Everyone has something that changed their lives forever.
Mine was in the form of a seventeen year old boy named Andrew with a soul irreparably damaged from his past but a heart so full of compassion that nothing could cause it to beat any less resolutely. At the time, Andy was a scrawny kid who stood at roughly six feet tall. He had dark, curly hair and eyes so blue you could get lost at sea just looking into them. His smile, along with the dimples in his chubby cheeks, was the most captivating smile I had ever seen, although he would often cover it with his hand because he was insecure of the small but noticeable gap between his two front teeth. He was my first love.
  Andrew seems like a distant memory now. It’s been about six years since I saw him last, the last day of school our junior year before he moved. I’m 23 now, and while I don’t have a boyfriend, I have a great job as an intern for one of the biggest journalists in the city and an even greater apartment with my best friend. I often catch myself wondering how Andy’s doing from time to time. Is he married? Does he have a job? Is he still living with his mom or did he move in with a friend like I have? Each time I imagine a new scenario of what his life must be like, maybe he’s married with two kids with a successful business career or maybe he’s jobless and living on the streets. If only I knew I would soon have the chance to have all my questions answered.
There’s a coffee shop down the street from the apartment that I go to before work sometimes in the mornings, it’s my absolute favorite. I walk in prepared to order my usual medium caramel macchiato, but I’m stopped by the scent of a very familiar cologne I could never forget. My jaw drops and my eyes widen, like a deer seeing the headlights of an oncoming car, as I glance to my left and see Andrew across the room, slouching just like he did in high school. His shaggy hair no longer hangs in front of his eyes, it’s neatly buzzed revealing his sharp, defined jawline and now protruding cheek bones. His body, which used to be so skinny you could see each individual vertebrae on his spine, is filled out and muscular. He looks up at the cashier and smiles as she hands him his coffee, the same smile that entranced me six long years ago. As I debate approaching him, my mind flashes back to my fondest memory of Andy and I.
    We were both young and dumb, but hopelessly in love. It was a chilly spring night, only a few months into our relationship. We were laying on top of an old, rusted, abandoned bus under the subway station. It was our favorite spot. We’d lay there for hours and talk, watching the trains go by above us. We clutched each other tightly as the bus shook underneath us and adrenaline ran through our bodies from the thrill. That night was different though. Andy was obviously nervous. He had sweat running down his pale face, falling faster as he quivered from the cold.
    “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.
    “What is it?” I asked curiously, as I suddenly felt nervous myself.
    “It’s just… I... “ he stuttered. He fumbled with his fingers like he always did, after he wiped the sweat off his forehead and fixed his shaggy hair. He looked up at me, his blue eyes stared intently into my green ones as he uttered the words, “I love you.”
    Joy and surprise filled my body, and I trembled from excitement.
    “I love you too, Andy.” I stammered. We both started laughing, we always did when things were too serious for too long. The rumblings of an oncoming train are approaching, and we embrace once again.
Standing in the coffee shop, I smile to myself. We had so much fun together. There were the long, late night drives where we talked for hours about anything and everything, the bonfires with our friends, and the nights we stayed in to binge watch shows on Netflix. Some of my best memories during my junior year were with him, but then I realized so were the worst. My smile fades away, as I recall our worst fight.
    In the middle of a harsh winter, temperatures were at an all time low while the inches of snow on the ground were at an all time high. Andy and I were cozied up together on the couch in front of the fireplace at my parents’ house. His body was rigid next to mine, I could tell something was off.
    We had been fighting constantly for the past couple weeks, I guess it was safe to say the “honeymoon” stage of our relationship was over. We had finally hit the defining moment of our relationship, the big fight every couple has that decides if they break up or keep trying.
    “What’s wrong?” I inquired when I finally had the courage.
    “Nothing.” he said, after a few moments of hesitation.
    “You’ve hardly said a word all night, are you sure?” I asked.
    “Yes, I’m positive. Leave it alone.” he responded harshly. I felt my eyebrows furrow as I angrily sat up and forced my eyes to meet his.
    “Don’t be a jerk, I was just making sure you’re okay.” I said, intending my words to sting with attitude.
    “I’m always a jerk, aren’t I?” he rhetorically asked, followed by a short sarcastic laugh. The fight continued to escalate. He used my flaws as knives and I did the same, violently throwing them at each other and each one hitting directly in the heart. Tears flowed from both of our eyes as we made laps around the living room of my parents’ house from pacing while we argued and screamed.
    I honestly thought that fight was the end of us.
Snapping back to reality, I find myself feeling torn. Andy was my first love. I’ve never felt a connection with anyone else like the one I had with him, but he was also the person who caused me the most pain. He was the best and worst thing that ever happened to me at the same time, and that’s the beauty of our relationship. It was a romantic tragedy doomed from the start, and, I realize, that’s all our love was. It was just a story, and it was a story that’s over.
So I left.
I turned around quickly, weaving through the line of people. I walked out the door and left, letting go Andrew and the past behind me as I went. He never even knew I was there.