Not Over Yet by Upasna Barath
After hitting it off, Tyla wanted to date, but Jerome wanted to wait.
“Is timing everything? The couple in Upasna Barath’s honest, real love story ask the same question as they open themselves up to love’s first and second chances.” — Clara, founder of Hmm That’s Interesting
The music still echoed in Tyla’s ears as she walked in the direction of the bar. She double-checked both the map and her messages in case Jerome texted. She was only a little nervous. Thankfully, they’d have something to talk about over dinner and drinks. She’d just come from a Billie Eilish listening party, and Jerome was a musician.
Over a year ago, she downloaded Hinge after the end of a four-year relationship. It had been one of those “over before it ended” kind of breakups. Then she matched with Jerome. This led to a sparky, fun first date where they bonded over food, music, and a few shared vices. Perhaps she had talked too much, but she found herself on a second date with him anyway.
Tyla racked her brain as she approached the Brooklyn bar, where she would be meeting him tonight. She considered what details from their second date were important. They had both spent too much time on their phones, she remembered with a wince. She had shown up to that date feeling distracted, still in the midst of a very non-linear healing process. She was in her “messy era,” as she liked to call it.
They’d kissed at the park at some point, which made things feel salvageable, but then Jerome said he needed a break from dating. She had to remind herself (more than once) not to take his hiatus personally. The way he asked for space was so sincere and admirable — the fact that he knew what he needed made him more attractive. He would be hard to forget.
It had been six months since they last met. There was no question of whether or not Tyla was into him. During those six months, she’d been the one sending DMs, listening to his music, liking his photos. Even amid three dysfunctional “casual” relationships, her soul feeling plucked from her body, Jerome was always in the back of her mind. The question now was whether this was more than a fling. Tyla decided to be realistic. Chemistry online didn’t always translate to real life, even if they’d kissed. Even if she’d played his songs over and over again.
She thought about how much she’d talked on the first date, her awkwardness and lack of presence on the second.
Maybe I’m too much for him.
Tyla’s easy to talk to, he reminded himself. He kept checking the door to see if she had arrived. The bar was dimly lit, filled with people both seated and standing, the fireplace crackling across the room. He looked over the menu while he waited, hungry after a long shift.
He hadn’t seen Tyla since their last date, so naturally his nerves were dancing. But, after six months of singledom and serious introspection, tonight felt like a small celebration. He needed somewhere safe to land, a low-pressure interaction to ease him back into the dating world. Tyla felt like the right person.
On their first date, he’d mentioned being gluten-free. She hadn’t batted an eye, ordering mussels, octopus carpaccio, caviar pearls. They shared a love of eating. They had a lot in common, actually, but she was also very different. Smarter than him, maybe one of the smartest people he’d ever met. An encyclopedia of a person. She’d told him all about her work in obstetrics, her thoughts on internet and pop culture. A lot of people were talkative. Very few were actually fascinating. Tyla was one of those rare people: beautiful and interesting, inside and out. He remembered showing his friends her Hinge photos, still in disbelief that they’d matched.
Before he downloaded Hinge and met Tyla, he had gone through two intense breakups, one after the other. He hadn’t known if he was ready to start dating again, but he did anyway. Only by meeting new people did he realize just how destabilized he felt. He was forced to confront himself: his difficulty expressing his boundaries, his inability to communicate his intentions. In a strange sense, his break from romance was a chance to start anew.
Even during his self-imposed soul search, she had remained in his thoughts. The messages she sent, the videos she posted. He remembered the ones she took from the J train. The sun setting behind the bridge, some song playing in the background. One time, it was his song. His heart had swelled.
When Tyla entered the crowded bar, they hugged. He felt something unusual within himself: steadiness. Weird, he thought. Weird but good.
He seems different, Tyla noticed. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was clear Jerome’s break had done him good. As he pointed to the menu and suggested what they might order (she hadn’t forgotten about his gluten allergy), she noticed he was still a little shy. He glanced away whenever he spoke.
They had tried to meet up once before, but he’d gotten a gnarly injury at work. Now, Tyla asked to see his finger. He held it out, and she studied the scar. “I’m back in commission,” he’d texted her. It had been a funny thing to say, but it was also sweet.
Of course, she’d had her sights set on him from the beginning. She had been disappointed enough by their pause to poke him on social media here and there. Maybe she had herself to thank for being able to see Jerome again. For knowing what she wanted and, in her own way, going after it.
They ordered deviled eggs, bread and butter, and an assortment of cocktails. She told him that she wanted to take him to a few spots tonight, maybe meet up with friends, maybe run into others. He didn’t seem to mind.
Jerome liked observing Tyla. He didn’t mind the idea of going bar to bar, watching her be out in the world. Tyla was one of the warmest people he’d ever met. Now at a different bar, their second location of the night, surrounded by tiki statues and sipping some tropical cocktail, he watched her banter with an acquaintance. She turned back to him with a grin.
She is so good at being herself, he thought. He smiled at her.
“What?” she asked, laughing.
He shook his head, deciding to share what he was thinking later — that she had a way of charming other people, turning them from strangers into friends so easily. She’d done that with him, after all.
He hadn’t set any intentions for the night. Just to be present, to enjoy. But now something in him was sharpening. The fog in his mind was clearing, parting for something that looked like understanding.
Now, as he listened to Tyla talk, he realized: I could listen to her talk forever.
I’m yapping way too much, Tyla noted. But it had been a long time since she felt this comfortable on a date. Her past relationships left her in a state that could be best described as despair. It was the kind that left one hopeless, best prepared for disaster, and nothing else. She could sense her skepticism, driven by that hopelessness, tugging at her as she played pool with Jerome.
It was easier to choose cynicism. But she did not want to turn bitter and distrusting after those other relationships. What she loved most about herself was her heart, which she was determined to keep open. Those experiences, somewhat ironically, had been helpful. They allowed her to get closer to herself.
He handed her the pool stick. She took a shot. As the ball snapped and knocked around the table, she allowed herself to imagine that darkness rolling out of her body.
She thought about her first kiss with Jerome again, at the park. Can I kiss you? he’d said. No one had ever asked her that before. At the time she was still raw, still susceptible to those patterns she knew she needed to escape. She had thought the question was a bit silly, maybe unnecessary.
Jerome took his shot and won a point. She watched him walk around the table, change his angle.
Tyla realized the question had not been silly. Perhaps she had to get used to the goodness that existed in this world, the goodness that Jerome had shown her.
Jerome pocketed another ball. Two in a row. Tyla’s jaw dropped. He liked impressing her with his pool skills, especially since she was much better than he was. The steadiness he felt within himself was translating to the game, like a beam of focus magnifying what mattered.
He was still hesitant. Both in pool and in life. He missed the shot and handed Tyla the stick. His hesitation, he knew, was simply the ghost of everything he’d ever experienced before.
He had been hurt. He knew it had held him back. Playing games, being withholding — none of that had ever felt right to him. Now he was sure of what did.
He thought about how time had passed, how things changed so quietly and incrementally, until he found himself at this point. How, during those six months, he witnessed the true power of time. It could present itself as an obstacle, but ultimately, it was a compass. It was meant to be followed, surrendered to.
What’s right for you will find you. He’d heard that statement before. These things would always fall into place, as long as you were patient. Having witnessed this for himself, he felt very wise.
Tyla scored a point. Nearly all of her stripes were pocketed. He still had a few solids left. They sipped their drinks and discussed their next move — where they would go, who they might run into.
Jerome turned back to the pool table, wondering how long the rest of the game would take. They could always forfeit, finish the last of their drinks, and carry on to the next place.
Instead, Tyla kissed him.
He kissed her back.
The game wasn’t going anywhere. They could always pick back up where they left off.
Upasna Barath is a Brooklyn-based writer and performer. A former Steppenwolf Theatre Literary Fellow, she writes plays that explore identity, humor, and the absurdity of intimacy. She co-wrote and starred in the short film “Little Slut,” and her debut novel, “Comedic Timing,” was released by 831 Stories in January 2025.