The Same Deep Water by Lisa Swallow

usual spot, and looks around as I approach. I pull up a chair and sit too. He’s pale, eyes less bright than usual, and wearing a smart shirt and jeans. His hair is different, buzz cut around the back and sides, shorter on top
    “Image change?” I ask.
    “My hair was annoying me. Thanks for coming.”
    “That’s okay. Sounds like you need someone to talk to. You helped me when I needed it.” I move to take his hand, but stop myself.
    “Ah, but I only spoke to you when you needed because you were on my list.” He smiles weakly.
    “Way to make a girl feel special.”
    He smirks, but doesn’t apologise.
    “Why were you really there that night?” I ask in a low voice. “Was that true about the flowers?”
    Guy rubs his lips together and watches me. “Omnia causa fiunt.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Look it up.” He picks up his cup. “Tell me about your Prince Charming.”
    I blink at his subject change. “I don’t have one.”
    “So you weren’t going on a date?”
    “I was, but it was the first.”
    “Oh. Shit. Sorry I spoilt things for you.”
    “It’s fine, we’ve re-arranged. Ticked an item off my list though, I asked him.”
    I expect Guy to laugh in agreement; but instead, he focuses on the cup in his hands. “Good. I hope he’s a nice guy.”
    “I came here to talk about you, not me.”
    Guy drains his coffee. “Yeah. Let me buy these.”
    This Guy’s manner is different to usual. He hovers back from the counter, letting others in front of him, hands in pockets. The confidence is missing. He avoids my eyes when he returns and sits and pushes the cup to me.
    “You always drink the same, which is why I never asked,” he says.
    “I wasn’t going to say anything. It’s fine.”
    Guy takes his time opening a sachet of sugar and tipping the contents into his cup. Do I ask him? Wait for him to say?
    “You said you’d been sick. Are you okay now?”
    “Yeah. Had to go to hospital for a couple of weeks.”
    “Oh. That’s not good. Are you...?”
    He continues to focus on stirring his coffee. “I’m alright. A weekly check-up is all I need for now.”
    I relax. “You still have time, don’t you? To do what you want.”
    Guy looks up. “Yes. For now.”
    I can’t go on with this friendship unless I understand what’s happening. If we have a friendship and Guy needs my support, he needs to let me know what’s wrong with him.
    “Your illness. Is it something that will stop you physically first? I mean, do you only have a certain amount of time before you can’t walk or something?”
    “That’s blunt.”
    “I don’t know how else to ask. You won’t tell me what’s wrong with you.”
    “You never asked again.”
    “What’s wrong with you?”
    “I’d rather not say.”
    I place my hands under the table and he watches. “I don’t have something contagious, so don’t worry your pretty head about that. Whatever we decide to do together, I won’t give this to you. It’s all inside me and isn’t coming out.”
    Cancer? Why does he keep avoiding my eyes? He behaves like any other normal person whenever I see him; and I understand this is something he may not want to talk about, but I’m fed up with trying to figure this out. How can this man with his infectious nature who embraces everything life has to offer him be dying? And why won’t he tell me?
    We drink coffee in silence as dusk sets in. Groups chatter around us, meeting for coffees, and preparing for their own nights out. Several couples sit close together, touching and connecting.
    The conversation about our almost kiss obviously isn’t happening. I wish I were more clued up on body language; he seems guarded, which makes sense. How bigheaded of me to think he hadn’t contacted me because I’d rejected him when the obvious answer was illness.
    The way Guy held me when he danced, the feel of his arms around me sticks though, and the desire to have this again was behind my asking Ross on a date. If I could find