22. Trying Again
Chapter twenty-two
Trying Again
The coffee shop was crowded, but Miko barely noticed anyone except Meca.
For the first several minutes, they talked about ordinary things.
Meca asked about the job applications Miko had submitted, and Miko asked about changes at the office.
They laughed about Jemika, the terrible coffee in the break room, and the people who still waited until Friday afternoon to create emergencies.
It felt familiar.
But it didn’t feel the same.
Before Miko’s sentence, their conversations moved without caution. Now both women seemed to measure their words before speaking, as if one wrong question might return them to an argument they had never completely resolved.
Miko stirred her coffee. “Why did you ask me here?”
Meca smiled. “I wanted to see you.”
“You’ve seen me.”
“Not like this.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means every time I’ve seen you since you came home, there was something to handle. Today, I wanted to sit down and talk without solving a problem.”
Miko looked at her. “Are we a problem?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Meca became quiet.
Miko leaned back. “There it is.”
“There what is?”
“That pause you do when you don’t want to tell me the truth.”
Meca laughed softly. “You’ve been paying attention.”
“I always paid attention.”
“No. You always noticed me. That’s different.”
Miko considered the distinction. Before her sentence, she had noticed when Meca entered a room, when she smiled, and when her attention shifted to someone else. But noticing Meca wasn’t the same as understanding what she needed.
“I’m paying attention now,” Miko said.
Meca looked at her. “I can see that.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“The truth is that I don’t know what we are.”
“Neither do I.”
“And you’re comfortable with that?”
“I’m learning to be.”
Meca took a sip of coffee. “That’s new.”
“A lot about me is new.”
“I know.”
Miko reached across the table and placed her hand over Meca’s. Meca looked down but didn’t pull away.
“I still have feelings for you,” Miko said.
Meca slowly lifted her eyes. “I still have feelings for you too.”
“Then why are we sitting here acting like strangers?”
“Because feelings don’t erase what happened.”
“I’m not asking you to erase it.”
“What are you asking?”
Miko squeezed her hand. “I’m asking whether we can try again.”
Meca stared at her.
The noise from the coffee shop seemed to fade around them.
“What would trying again look like?” Meca asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Miko.”
“I’m being honest. I don’t have a plan. I just know I don’t want fear to make the decision for me again.”
“What about Jayson?”
“I told him I’m not rebuilding our relationship.”
Meca pulled her hand back. “Because you chose me?”
“Because I chose not to return to something that wasn’t working.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m not choosing you because Jayson disappointed me. I’m asking to try again because what happened between us was real.”
Meca studied her face. “And what happens when you become uncomfortable again?”
“I talk to you.”
“What happens when somebody asks what we are?”
“I tell them it’s none of their business.”
“What happens when you start questioning what this means about you?”
Miko took a slow breath. “I remind myself that I don’t need a label to know how I feel.”
Meca looked toward the window.
Miko waited.
Finally, Meca said, “We take it slowly.”
Miko smiled. “How slowly?”
“Coffee.”
“We’re already having coffee.”
“Then we’re doing well.”
Miko laughed. “You get on my nerves.”
“You missed me.”
“I did.”
They began with coffee.
The following week, they had dinner. A few days later, they took a long walk and talked about everything they had been afraid to discuss before Miko’s sentence.
Miko apologized for expecting Meca to wait while she remained emotionally connected to Jayson. Meca admitted that she sometimes used distance to protect herself instead of explaining what she needed.
Neither woman blamed the other for the entire collapse of their relationship.
They had both contributed to it.
For the first time, they were honest without trying to win.
One evening, Meca drove Miko home after dinner. They sat in the car outside the house, neither making an effort to end the night.
“I had a good time,” Miko said.
“So did I.”
“You want to come inside?”
Meca looked at her. “Is that a good idea?”
“Probably not.”
Meca laughed. “At least you’re honest.”
“But I still want you to.”
Meca became quiet.
Miko reached over and touched her hand. “I’m not trying to rush anything.”
“It feels like you are.”
“Then we can sit here.”
“For how long?”
“Until you get tired of me.”
“That could take a while.”
Miko smiled. “Good.”
Meca leaned closer.
The kiss began slowly.
It wasn’t driven by curiosity or the excitement of doing something unexpected. It carried the weight of everything they had survived—the separation, the unanswered questions, and the feelings that remained despite the distance.
When they pulled apart, Miko rested her forehead against Meca’s.
“I missed that,” she whispered.
“So did I.”
For the next several weeks, they allowed themselves to believe they could build something new.
Meca stopped by after work. Miko cooked dinner when she could, and they spent evenings talking, laughing, and learning how to be close again. Some nights, Meca stayed late. Other nights, she left before either of them became too comfortable.
Miko began working a temporary position and saving money for an apartment. Rebuilding her life required patience, but she felt stronger each time she handled something without depending on someone else.
Meca supported her without taking control.
That difference mattered.
They didn’t announce their relationship. Miko wasn’t hiding Meca, but she also didn’t believe their private life required an explanation.
The rumors started anyway.
Jemika saw them together one Saturday afternoon at a restaurant. She walked over to their table with the same raised eyebrow she had worn a year earlier.
“Well, well, well.”
Miko looked up. “Jemika.”
“I knew it.”
Meca laughed. “Knew what?”
Jemika placed a hand on her hip. “Don’t play with me. I told Miko a long time ago that you liked her.”
“You told everybody,” Miko said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You probably did.”
Jemika smiled. “So y’all together now?”
Miko looked at Meca.
Meca looked back at her but allowed Miko to answer.
“We’re having lunch,” Miko said.
“I can see that.”
“Then why are you asking questions?”
Jemika laughed. “You still defensive.”
“And you still messy.”
“I’m happy to see you too.”
Jemika hugged Miko and spoke with them for several minutes before returning to her own table.
After she left, Meca looked at Miko. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
Miko smiled. “Yes.”
“You didn’t answer her question.”
“I didn’t owe her an answer.”
“That’s true.”
“But if you’re asking whether I’m ashamed to be here with you, I’m not.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You thought it.”
Meca took a sip of water. “Maybe I did.”
Miko reached across the table. “I’m here because I want to be.”
Meca took her hand.
Across the restaurant, Jemika noticed.
By Monday morning, people at Meca’s office had begun asking questions.
Jemika insisted she hadn’t said anything, but Meca knew how quickly workplace conversations traveled. Someone mentioned seeing Miko and Meca together. Someone else asked whether they had always been more than friends.
When Meca told Miko about the rumors, Miko became irritated.
“Why are people worried about us?”
“Because people are curious.”
“They need to be curious about their own lives.”
Meca laughed. “I agree.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That my personal life is personal.”
“Good.”
Meca paused. “One person asked whether you were gay.”
Miko became quiet.
“What did you say?”
“I told her to ask you if she was brave enough.”
Miko laughed, but the question stayed with her.
Later that evening, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror thinking about the word.
Gay.
It didn’t offend her.
It simply didn’t feel like the complete truth.
Miko had loved Jayson. Her attraction to him had been real. Her feelings for Meca were real too. She no longer believed one relationship had to erase the other.
When she told Meca about the question, Meca listened without interrupting.
“Do you want to answer it?” Meca asked.
“I don’t know what answer they want.”
“They want something simple.”
“My life isn’t simple.”
“No one’s is.”
Miko looked at her. “What would you call me?”
“Miko.”
“That’s what you said before.”
“And it’s still my answer.”
“What if people think I’m confused?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then let them think whatever they want.”
Miko sat beside her. “I know I love you.”
Meca’s expression changed.
It was the first time Miko had used the word so directly.
“You love me?” Meca asked.
“Yes.”
Meca looked down.
Miko touched her face. “Why do you look scared?”
“Because I’ve wanted to hear you say that for a long time.”
“And now that I said it?”
“Now I have to trust it.”
“You can.”
“I’m trying.”
Miko leaned forward and kissed her.
For a while, love felt like enough.
But as the months passed, the differences between them began appearing again.
Miko was rebuilding from the beginning. She was focused on finding permanent work, securing housing, and regaining the stability she had lost. Some days, she needed Meca close. Other days, she pulled inward because accepting help made her feel dependent.
Meca had spent the year becoming more independent. She had learned not to organize her life around waiting for Miko’s calls or decisions. She cared deeply for Miko, but she no longer wanted to become her entire emotional foundation.
“You don’t have to handle everything alone,” Meca told her one evening.
“I know.”
“Then why do you shut me out when something goes wrong?”
“Because I need to know I can handle my own life.”
“I’m not trying to handle it for you.”
“It feels like it sometimes.”
Meca looked hurt. “That’s not fair.”
“I didn’t say you were doing anything wrong.”
“You don’t have to.”
Miko sighed. “I don’t want to argue.”
“Neither do I.”
But avoiding arguments didn’t resolve the differences between them.
They loved each other.
They enjoyed being together.
They still made each other laugh, remembered the smallest details, and knew when something was wrong before either woman spoke.
Yet the relationship no longer carried the ease it once had.
Miko sometimes felt that Meca expected her to prove she wouldn’t become uncertain again.
Meca sometimes felt that Miko expected the support she received during incarceration to continue without limits.
They were trying to build a new relationship while still reacting to injuries from the old one.
One night, Miko and Meca sat in the car outside Miko’s new apartment. It was the first place Miko had secured on her own since coming home.
“You should be proud of yourself,” Meca said.
“I am.”
“You don’t sound proud.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’ve been tired a lot lately.”
“I’m rebuilding my life.”
“I know.”
Miko looked at her. “You say that like you’re upset with me.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Then what is it?”
Meca stared through the windshield. “Sometimes I don’t know where I fit anymore.”
Miko’s heart tightened. “You’re doing this again.”
“Doing what?”
“Asking me to define everything.”
“No. I’m telling you how I feel.”
“You fit wherever you want to fit.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Miko looked away.
Meca continued, “Before you left, I wanted you to choose me. While you were gone, I learned how to choose myself. Now I’m trying to figure out whether loving you requires me to stop doing that.”
“I never asked you to stop.”
“I know.”
“Then why would you say that?”
“Because neither of us is doing anything wrong, Miko. But something still doesn’t feel right.”
Silence filled the car.
Miko wanted to argue, but she understood what Meca meant.
They had tried to rekindle the relationship because the feelings were still there.
The feelings were real.
The love was real.
But they were no longer the same women who had first found safety in late-night conversations and quiet moments at work.
They had spent so much time trying to recover what they lost that neither of them had asked whether what they recovered still belonged in the lives they were building.
Miko reached for Meca’s hand.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” she said.
Meca squeezed her hand. “Maybe we need to stop treating every change like a loss.”
Miko looked at her.
Neither woman said the relationship was over.
Neither woman was ready to walk away.
But for the first time since trying again, they admitted what both had begun to feel.
Love had brought them back together.
It might not be enough to keep them in the same place.