Reflection Question

It was a rainy evening in the city. It was the middle of October and the air had a crisp bite, as the rain fell softly. It was dusk, but the sky was dark with clouds, so it felt darker, and colder. I stood outside the restaurant door. People walking past me opening the door, coming and going. The air smelled good as it wafted out of the restaurant. I could feel the warm air of inside for a brief moment before the crisp October wind swept it away. I shivered in my coat, my shoulders hunched over as if it would keep me protected from the rain.

I was here to do an interview. My questions already jotted down on a piece of paper that I held clenched tightly in my fist, shoved in my coat pocket. I wanted to cancel the meeting. I was tired, cold and not really sure if I wanted to know the answers to my questions. I took another deep breath. My mind floated to my friend Rich. He had sent me a message letting me know the meeting had been set up. I didn't want to let him down. I knew he would want to ask about it, even if he didn't. I wanted to be able to tell him I went through with it.

I knew my interviewee was already inside the restaurant. Even though she acted carelessly most of the time, she was always worried about the judgment of being late, and not knowing how to get somewhere, where to park, what to say, where to sit.

I shook off the cold and opened the door to the restaurant. I stepped inside, and was greeted with warm air, the smell of bread, and a hint of old alcohol from the bar. I looked around at the tables to see if I could see anyone sitting alone. I spotted her towards the back of the room. She was of course facing the door. She was always paranoid, thinking people were following her, thinking she was seeing shadow figures, dead people, she thought most men were serial killers.

There I was 20 years younger sitting at the table waiting for me to arrive. My stomach turned, I could feel my heart racing, all of the sudden it felt really hot. I closed my eyes and took a step towards her. What the fuck is wrong with me!? The words echoed in my head. I am not going to let a damn 17 year old intimidate me. I pulled my shoulders back, and walked down to the table.

Hi, I said to my 17yo self. I guess I don't have to introduce myself. I chuckled uncomfortably as I sat down in the booth. I looked across the booth at my younger self. We sat there and stared at each other. Thoughts were zooming through my head. So many emotions. I felt anger rising in my throat as tears started to sting my eyes. She stared back at me, she had a startled look on her face. I could see the confusion in her eyes.

I took another deep breath, and pulled out my crinkled piece of paper from my coat pocket. I slowly uncurled it, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of it, then I unfolded it. I stared at the paper. It was blank. My questions were gone. I looked up at 17yo me. "Ummmm....ok, I guess I am just going to you whatever questions come up." I said to her. "Ok" she replied with a shrug. "Of course she doesn't care", I think to my self. My mind floats back to Rich, and the message he sent me...I wasn't supposed to think about the questions ..it was whatever came up first. If I am remembering it right.

I look up again at 17yo me.
 Why do you want to be a criminal profiler? what are you going to do if you fail? why cant you be more realistic with your goals? Why didn't you study more? Why do ruin my future? Why cant you be normal? Why cant you just leave men alone? Don't you know its a useless endeavor? Why do you think you will ever get married? Why are your expectations so ridiculous? Why cant you just plan for something more realistic? why do you have to be so grandiose? Why doesn't anyone love you? What are you doing wrong? Why cant you figure it out sooner? Why does it take you so long to to do anything?

I stopped for a moment to catch my breath.

"Do you have anything you want to say to me?" I asked.

"I'm sorry." She replied.
"Me too" I said. "I thought we were going to be so much more than what we are."
"Where do we go wrong?" she asked.
"I don't know, I guess life is planned differently than we expected it to." I said.
"I thought we were the makers of our own destiny?!" She replied.
I sighed, and looked down at my hands. I didn't really know what to tell her.
She asked "Wait...I don't get into the FBI?"
I shook my head. "No, we become a nurse."
Now 17yo me has tears welling up in her eyes. I can see the anger starting to flash through them. Her voice gets a little louder and her words become sharper. "This is your fault! You are future me, what the fuck did you do?! You ruined our dream? Why?"
I felt the hot sting of tears run down my cheeks, I had no answers for her. I stared down at the blank paper in front of me.
I look up at 17yo me. She got up from the table, and walked out the door.
At least my interview was finally over.