Let Go

I tapped my pen on my desk, looking out into the Pittsburgh cityscape from my window. It’s been only three months since I’ve moved here and I still couldn’t get used to how sparse the city looked in comparison to New York. I had moved from Montreal back home when I was seventeen and never looked back.

There was a knock on my doorframe and I turned around to see Peter, an associate at the firm, standing there with a handful of manila folders. I exhaled deeply as he walked in and handed the cases to me.

“Traffic violations? Are you kidding me?” I asked, briefly flipping through the folders. Peter just shook his head and shrugged.

“You know Harry likes to test the waters with all the new attorneys. Don’t get strung up over it, you’re 23 years old and an associate at the firm. We have interns older than you.” He said with an encouraging smile as he walked to the door. I ran my hands over my face and leaned back in the chair.

“Dahlia?” I heard Peter call my name and I turned around curiously. “Your first client is here in the conference room. Big name, so you may not want to keep him waiting.” He said before finally walking out of my office.

I just rolled my eyes. Fantastic. The last thing I needed today was some diva superstar who felt like the laws didn’t apply to them. I grabbed the file and smoothed my white pencil skirt, listening to the click of my Christian Louboutins as they hit the wood floors of the hallway. I pushed through the conference room door, my eyes glued to the case file.

“I’m Dahlia Moreau, I’m going to be representing you, Mr..—“ I looked at the file for a last name, my eyes trying to process the words quickly.

“Dahlia?” He asked softly, his voice carrying a distinct Quebec accent. My vision focused in on his name.

Kristopher Letang.

I nearly dropped my papers as the rush of shock crept up my spine and my stomach flipped.

“Do you remember me?” I heard him ask and I could feel his eyes on me, watching my stupid, stupid reaction.

Of course I remembered him. Six of my life was wasted chasing him, thinking about him and finally trying to forget him.

---

I felt his hand around mine, my body pulled in tight against his as we walked from the school parking lot to his car. We were both seventeen, both graduating highschool early in order to pursue our very separate dreams. I was savoring the time we had left together, trying to push the reality of separation away from my mind.

I wasn’t a clingy girl, in fact, I would say I was just the opposite. I had pushed him away for so long in the beginning that you would have thought I wanted nothing to do with him. And that’s because at first, I didn’t. But when I had finally realized that I loved him, or thought I loved him anyways (we were seventeen and stupid, what did either of us know about love?), it felt like it was too late. Like I had wasted this time I had with him, wasted it on my stupid insecurities and

“You know I’m leaving in two months.” He said, his eyes drifting from the road to me as we drove back to my house. I just nodded and stared outside the window at the Montreal spring and tried not to think about it. But Kris was determined to have some sort of conversation about the fact that in just two months—not even that—he would be moving for hockey and I would be going back home to New York City with my mother to go to Columbia.

“So what are we going to do?” I heard him ask after a minute in silence and I turned away from the window. I didn’t want to talk about this, I didn’t want to think about this. I just wanted to live in the moment, to have him for the remainder of the time we had left. I just wanted him.

I tried to find the words to articulate this to him, but the car pulled to a stop and I just stared at him for a moment before opening the door and leaning over to kiss him.

“I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” I said in my imperfect French, grabbing my Birkin and hopping out of the car.

---

I couldn’t form a sentence.

I had a J.D from Columbia and I couldn’t make words, not when he was just sitting there from the opposite end of the glossy mahogany table in his jeans and backwards baseball cap, looking at me as if those twelve years hadn’t gone by between us.

I took a deep breath and nodded, regaining my composure. It wasn’t that big of a deal, a first love that had disintegrated from distance and time.

I smiled, brushing my dark hair behind my ear and taking my seat across from him at the table.

“It’s been awhile.” I managed to say politely and he just nodded. He looked as surprised as I had been a few moments ago.

“Yeah, it has. What are you doing in Pittsburgh?” he asked, the conversation slowly losing it’s awkward strain.

“Working, one of my professors at Columbia took over this firm and invited me to work here. What are you doing here?” I questioned “Besides you know, breaking the law.” I added with a soft smile and he laughed.

“I work here too. I play for the Penguins.” He said and I gave him a curious look. I had been here for two months and have never heard of any hockey team.

I flung his case file open again and took another hard look. “So, Kris.” I began and scanned down the police report again.

“It really wasn’t my fault. The guy rearended me.” He said, gesturing to his file. I crossed my legs and examined the document.

“You were in a no park zone.” I said with a shake of my head before shutting the file and standing up.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it. You aren’t looking at any jail time so I’ll just work on reducing th—“ I started, trying to hurry the meeting along.

“Do you want to go out and get a drink tonight?” He interrupted and I froze. Was this really happening again, more than a decade later after our initial relationship?

I placed a hand on the doorframe and stared at him for just a moment.

“I’ll call you when I’ve reached a settlement.” I said with a soft smile before walking out.