Wonderland

“Going through a rough time period.” That should give him a better idea of the mess I was in.

“Well, you know what they say: ‘poetry can be the best form of therapy’.” Preston winked at me.

He was right. It was the main reason I was standing outside of his classroom. I needed help, to free my mind, and I wasn't the type to consult a therapist. Poetry had been my best option, and so far, it’d been great.

“I have to agree with you again, Preston. That’s why I’m here.”

He smiled and looked at his watch. “What do you say we go across the street and grab a coffee?”

“Sure, why not? Caffeine sounds good.”

The weather was brisk and windy while we walked to the coffee shop. I felt the cold seep into my bones. Fall was my favorite season, but it also meant that winter was coming. It was the season I hated the most: the snow, grey skies, and icy wind. I disliked everything about winter.

Preston and I found a free table in an isolated corner of the restaurant, took off our jackets, and put them on the backs of our chairs. I still had shivers running down my spine, so I kept my scarf wrapped tight around my neck to keep what little warmth I had inside.

We went to the counter to order our coffee. There were so many different types that I didn't know which one to pick. They had a huge variety to choose from: cappuccino, chai latte, mocha latte, ice coffee, and espresso. I wanted something sweet, maybe caramel. I opted for a mocha latte with caramel syrup and a piece of chocolate marble cheesecake. I love cheesecake and am never able to refuse the dessert. It’s always too tempting.

Preston got straight to the point, still in teacher mode. “So, what’s your story, Lucas? What brought you to my poetry class?” I didn't know what to expect from him, but so far, he seemed like a great guy.

“My story is complicated. This isn’t where I saw myself ending up, but you have to take what life gives you, right?” I felt my throat tighten as the emotions swirled around inside my mind.

“You’re going through a rough time, I can tell.” Preston wanted to know more, his eyes told me as much, and I felt like he wouldn't give up unless he knew what I was hiding. There was something in the way that he looked at me, like he could already see the real me and needed more. The connection we shared made me feel like I had known him for years already.

“After two years together, my boyfriend broke up with me, so I had to move out. There was no way for me to stay in the same city as him and face all the memories we had created there. Just felt like the best thing for me to do was leave. I quit my job, packed my things, and now here I am, living with my older brother in a small, shitty apartment in New York. I'm sick and tired. Your poetry class and my brother are pretty much all I have right now.” I couldn't look at Preston; I didn't want him to see the tears I struggled to hold back.

Be strong, Lucas, be strong. I kept repeating that mantra to myself to keep it together, to control my emotions.

Though I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel Preston watching me, speechless and taking in everything I had just blurted out. “I hope my class brings you joy and liberation, Lucas. I feel like you have a lot in your heart and on your mind right now. Just do your best and let it go.”

Preston’s voice was soft and low. He felt different; he wasn’t like anyone else I had met in my life.  I felt like I had been meant to meet him. Sitting right across the table, he was offering me his support after just fifteen minutes of conversation. He would become a good friend, of that I was certain.

“I know. I just miss him. We were good together. At least, that’s what I thought. I guess I’m naïve.” Like an open book, I was telling my story to a perfect stranger. While I didn't understand why, it felt good to have someone to confess my secrets to.

“I'm single, too. Been there, done that, so I know how it is. I thought he was the one, too. We can't always be right. We all have to learn, and life will put every obstacle possible in your way. Believe me; I know what I’m talking about.”

Preston was right — again. I couldn't help but smile, probably my first smile in weeks.

We drank our coffee and ate our dessert. I even ordered a second coffee to help me stay awake. The two of us talked and laughed for hours. In fact, we stayed at the cafe until the owner kicked us out at closing time. Preston was the only good thing fate had brought to my life over the last month.

We made plans for the next day. The weather was supposed to be warmer, and I wanted to enjoy the multi-colored leaves that filled the trees of Central Park. I had come to appreciate the urban park. It was huge and beautiful. Kids ran around while adults read or talked. There was something about the ambiance that drew me in, made me feel happy. When I was there, I felt alive.

~*~*~

The next morning I sat on my bed, holding my laptop. I had dreamt of poetry I wanted to write and thoughts I wanted to express. Over and over, I typed my words, only to erase them and try again until they made sense. Finally, they reached the exactitude of the message I had to deliver — that I needed to deliver.

For the first time in my life, it felt good to write out my emotions and fears. I didn't know if I had talent, and to be honest, I didn't care. Poetry helped me face the future, and right then, it was my only form of therapy.

An hour later, I found myself sitting by the Alice in Wonderland sculpture. Preston was supposed to meet me there, but he had warned me that he was often late. At least I knew so I didn't expect him to be on time. I had nowhere else to be anyway, so I sat and looked around. I took deep breaths, as deep as I could, and smiled at the little kids jumping and running around me. They had a certain innocence about them that I envied.

“Hey, Lucas. Sorry I’m late — though I did warn you.” Preston handed me a warm cup of coffee. “I thought that if I brought you a treat, maybe you’d forgive my tardiness.”

“You had me at coffee. You’re forgiven, Preston.”

We laughed and walked away from the statue. I took a sip of the warm, sweet coffee. He’d added caramel; he’d remembered.

Good! I thought. He cared.

Preston and I walked in silence. I knew he wanted to ask questions, but with our friendship being in its beginning stages, I assumed he didn't know if he could.

“I’m sick.” My voice was low, not more than a whisper. “I'm not doing well, and I don't really want to talk about it yet. I just want to embrace the day, if that's okay with you?”

Preston nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “Where did you live before you moved here?”

“Boston. I lived there for five great years, and I loved every moment of it—or almost, anyway. I loved the people, the restaurants, and the city. It was my home, you know? I couldn't stay there after Matt, my ex, left me. There were too many traces of us there. I didn't have any other choice but to move here with my brother.”

“I’ve lived here my whole life. Different parts of the city, of course, but always in New York. I like it here.”

“You probably know all the good places, the best restaurants and everything.” Perhaps Preston could help me plan my days. I wanted to do as much as I could since my time was now limited.

“I can be your tour guide, if you’d like,” he offered with a beautiful smile.

The sun reflected in the blue of his eyes, which were stunning. I had never noticed them before, how deep and pure they were. I couldn’t look away even if I tried.

“I would love that,” I said, accepting his offer.

Preston and I were going to have a good time. I felt bad that he didn't know what he was in for, but I would tell him when the time was right.