A Study in International Relations, Part III: Downsizing
I'd been complacent with my exercise schedule for a few days. Working as a caterer, unlike most other jobs, comes with the added benefit of a half decent workout. I'm pretty sure that this is the reason I'm still in relatively good shape, compared to some of the people I went to high school with.
The nature of my job sometimes puts me into contact with this very crowd. Over the past year, I've bumped into two other dudes from my graduating class. In school, they were both fine specimens of the male species, with well defined muscles and an equally good sense of fashion. And now? Both of them have busted the seams on their hundred dollar jeans and blimped right up, as though a tiny gnome had inserted hoses into both of their rectums and turned on an air pump.
A girl whom I'd graduated with just started working with us, and one of my bosses sat down with her for lunch. When I came back from my post-meal cigarette, the first words out of his mouth were, 'Fez, were you really shy in high school??'
I motioned towards her and replied, 'Yup, and she's in the hizz. Couldn't talk to girls, or anyone really for that matter. Then I went to Thailand, hooked up with chicks, all that good stuff.'
In high school, I'd have considered myself lucky if the nerdy hottie sat down with me for lunch.
Now, I've got a lonely girl across an ocean wanting a little more than lunch.
Things have changed since then.
I hopped into the shower and recollected my thoughts. One thing was clear: this just wasn't going to work out, no matter what the storybooks, or Hollywood tells us. Nothing short of a $1400 plane ticket and a decision to change my life, that is.
I rang her up again, ready to dole out the straight dope. I couldn't afford any misunderstandings and I hoped they wouldn't rear their ugly head. 'Hello, Helena?'
She'd been crying for awhile, as I could hear those trademark quick breaths before every word. Eventually she'd gotten better and we were able to have a good exchange. 'How do you know that you still have feelings for me? It's been a long time.'
'I...I don't. But I've tried so hard not to think about these past years and I'm still haunted by it.'
'By me?'
'Well...you were my first love...'
'What about that guy you left behind when you came to Canada?'
'He loved me, or at least he said he did. But I didn't feel the same way about him. It was one of those romances where you don't know why you're with them. Is it really about companionship? Or are you just comfortable with it?'
I'd no idea I was her first. This would make what I had to do, even harder.
'Helena...
'What is it?'
'I know this is hard...it's hard even for me to say it.'
'Say it quickly. It will make it easier.'
God, I hope she's right.
'We will never be "Us" again. You're over there, and I'm still here, and even though I'm not seeing anyone right now, I'm not going to wait for you.'
'I thought you might say that.'
'Is there something you want to say?'
'No, I will listen. I think it will make things easier for you.'
Was she ever right.
'If you're still in love with me...then don't marry Bertrand. He deserves better than that; you both do. Even though I won't see you again, I won't forget you, either...I never forget a face.'
'How will you remember me, then?'
Good question.
'I'll always remember that you were the girl who thought that falafel balls were testicles, and that the weather was too cold in winter, and too hot in summer. The one who loved white tulips, waffle cones, and drinking beer late at night. The one who never let me get away without a good morning kiss, and always led me by the hand into her apartment. The one who hated to argue and loved to make up, usually by punching me hard, then kissing me as I rubbed the bruise.'
'Really? I did all of those things?'
'You'd better believe it.'
'Wow...'
'And...'
'And what?'
'You'll be the one who blew me three kisses at the airport, didn't cry or pledge to stay together, and left with both of our heads held high.'
And then there was that long, awkward silence.
'Thank you.'
'For what? What did I do?'
'This was easier than I thought it would be. It's heavy, but I'll manage.'
'What's heavy?'
'The rock on my finger...I will not need this, I think.'
'So, will you call it off?'
She said she would, and I'm pretty sure she will. I just don't know when.
'Well Helena, I guess this is it.'
'What?'
'You know, goodbye and all.'
'I hate the word, but it makes sense.'
So do I, so do I...
'Goodbye, Sweetheart. I'll always remember those things about you, even when you don't.'
'I'll be an old maid before I forget about those things.'
'Nah, I'm sure that with advances in medical technology, you'll be like a hundred before that happens.'
She let off a little laugh, just like on the morning of her nineteenth birthday. I couldn't help but smile, and I let a tear roll down my cheek. These tears are much better than their more bitter counterparts. 'I'll be a hundred years old before I forget?'
'No! You'll be a hundred before you're an old maid. You're beautiful, and there's a guy out there waiting to find you.'
'Thank you...goodbye, Jon. Maybe we will meet again one day?'
'I'll be at the King.'
I clicked off, let off a heavy sigh, and walked around the block for a cigarette.
Have I really changed since those school days? Back then, I would have fallen in love all over again, or done everything I could to keep it alive. It makes you do crazy things, it does. I guess that back then, I always had this idealized version of it, where everything was awash with fields of daisies and cascading rose petals.
I guess that I once was that awkward student, looking for a place to fit in for three years but never finding the notch.
Now, much less mercurial, more realistic, I let someone from my past slip away from me again, but not out of spite, or anger; I just cared too much to let her carry on that way.
Is that even a form of love?
Because if it is, I'm not sure I want to be right.
When I got back home, there was only one thing left to take care of.
The evidence. The last thing I wanted to do was pine for her after everything we'd just talked about.
'Are you sure you want to erase this call history?'
click
'Are you sure you want to erase this photo message?'
click
'Are you sure you want to completely forget about this girl?'
Okay, well that option never really existed, but if it did, it would be the above two functions, put into one. It would do it's damnedest to guilt you into saying 'No,' and then it'd have some spiel like:
'YOU WILL HAVE SHITTY SEX FOR THE NEXT SEVEN YEARS!'
after it was all said and done. But, it just confirmed that the messages had been erased, then went back to displaying a smiling anime girl, like always.
And that was that. It was now 7.30 AM, and three and a half hours after the whole thing began, I had to start getting ready for work.
After a rather uneventful day, I decided to just clear my head and walk around downtown. A lot of things reminded me of her; the spot where we kissed in between passing trains and almost got nailed for jaywalking tickets, the boutique where she dragged me in to look at new clothes, the pub we went to on Saturday nights.
And of course, the exact spot where my camera died and I felt hungry all at once.
I began to reminisce, then stopped before things got too heavy. She's not the only one with a slight case of heartache.
I decided to pay our old friend a visit. The shawarma at this joint is pretty decent, and you can't beat the price.
'What'll it be today? Beef shawarma, as usual?'
'I think I'll just take a falafel wrap, thanks.'
A familiar smile lit up his face.
'How's that girl that you took here so often? I haven't seen her in awhile. What was her name...Helen or something like that?'
'Her? Oh, she's just fine. How did you remember her?'
'I'm like you: I never forget a face.'
He gave me an extra piece of heart-shaped baklava and a wink as I paid for the meal.
She'll be fine, just fine.
And, so will I.