Day 08 - A moment, in great detail
There he said it. What if I had never gone away that weekend? The question I myself had riddled my brain with for the last twelve months.
There he said it. What if I had never gone away that weekend? The question I myself had riddled my brain with for the last twelve months. I had changed drastically in those twelve long months. I went from being hopelessly carefree and happy to completely destroyed. Slowly, I put myself back together and halfway between then and now I had buried my anger and found clarity in both my own misunderstanding and his torn feelings. Yet something still lingered. The question of all questions. And he just asked it.
The evening had started with curiosity and excitement. My friends had decided that we were going to get drunk. And drink we did. By six in the evening we were making drunken phone calls to my roommate back home. I behaved and drank cautiously while my friends let go and drank until we finally grabbed a late dinner at the pub around nine. I knew what the evening had in store for me and I wouldn’t let my friends spoil the evening by getting me plastered. The grilled ham and cheese absorbed most of the alcohol and my wits became my own again. When he texted me just after midnight we solidified our plans for our late night walk through the city.
Everyone was worried about how I would handle such a meeting. Late night walks had been our thing. That’s how we had first met. Halfway between his apartment and mine on a night when the city across the lake burned under a wildfire. Now, in another city, we were meeting again in a concrete city and no fire. At least there was no rain. Not like that would’ve stopped us.
A smile, a hello, a hug followed by awkward conversation, but only for a bit, until we found our old rhythm. Then we were talking about life, love and our passion, music. We tip-toed around the delicate story that was us, briefly touching it with related stories or fond memories. He bought us coffee and I thanked him kindly. Eventually we ended up in a small park that overlooked the ocean. We sat on a couple of swings and began to discuss our past. It was this point that I discovered a strength I’ve never felt before. Typically in a situation like this, I would have become lost in my own emotions but I spoke confidently, with certainty and maturity like I completely understood our feelings like it was a simple mathematical equation. And it all made sense. Why he walked away, why I fell apart, and why we both had a hard time letting go. Then he asked the question I had shied away from. What if I had never gone away?
It was only a second from when he asked and I answered but in that second a beam of joy flooded my heart. My residual feelings that exist in my heart, my mind and on my skin were shared. After spending the evening, listening and learning about his goals, his dreams, his travel plans and his happiness in the city, I knew it would do neither of us any good indulging in the question that still haunted me. Instead I told him that I had spent the last year tumbling with that question and the possible scenarios and it does us no good to speculate on what may have been. I turned to him with a smile that I hoped would reassure him and he agreed. In that moment, I realized my own partial vindication, but more importantly, that I wanted him to be happy. Derailing any of that for my own masochistic emotional pleasures would be selfish and unfair. Only two can tango when the time is right.
Our conversation went on for a while longer and eventually the combination of alcohol and swinging motion of the swing set turned my stomach around and we agreed that it was a good time to head back towards our respective beds. He walked me a good distance home and we ended the evening the same way it had begun. A smile, a big hug and a goodnight.
It had been twelve months since our last late night walk and we can both take a little solace in the fact that we both missed them so.
To see a list of the days click here.
There he said it. What if I had never gone away that weekend? The question I myself had riddled my brain with for the last twelve months. I had changed drastically in those twelve long months. I went from being hopelessly carefree and happy to completely destroyed. Slowly, I put myself back together and halfway between then and now I had buried my anger and found clarity in both my own misunderstanding and his torn feelings. Yet something still lingered. The question of all questions. And he just asked it.
The evening had started with curiosity and excitement. My friends had decided that we were going to get drunk. And drink we did. By six in the evening we were making drunken phone calls to my roommate back home. I behaved and drank cautiously while my friends let go and drank until we finally grabbed a late dinner at the pub around nine. I knew what the evening had in store for me and I wouldn’t let my friends spoil the evening by getting me plastered. The grilled ham and cheese absorbed most of the alcohol and my wits became my own again. When he texted me just after midnight we solidified our plans for our late night walk through the city.
Everyone was worried about how I would handle such a meeting. Late night walks had been our thing. That’s how we had first met. Halfway between his apartment and mine on a night when the city across the lake burned under a wildfire. Now, in another city, we were meeting again in a concrete city and no fire. At least there was no rain. Not like that would’ve stopped us.
A smile, a hello, a hug followed by awkward conversation, but only for a bit, until we found our old rhythm. Then we were talking about life, love and our passion, music. We tip-toed around the delicate story that was us, briefly touching it with related stories or fond memories. He bought us coffee and I thanked him kindly. Eventually we ended up in a small park that overlooked the ocean. We sat on a couple of swings and began to discuss our past. It was this point that I discovered a strength I’ve never felt before. Typically in a situation like this, I would have become lost in my own emotions but I spoke confidently, with certainty and maturity like I completely understood our feelings like it was a simple mathematical equation. And it all made sense. Why he walked away, why I fell apart, and why we both had a hard time letting go. Then he asked the question I had shied away from. What if I had never gone away?
It was only a second from when he asked and I answered but in that second a beam of joy flooded my heart. My residual feelings that exist in my heart, my mind and on my skin were shared. After spending the evening, listening and learning about his goals, his dreams, his travel plans and his happiness in the city, I knew it would do neither of us any good indulging in the question that still haunted me. Instead I told him that I had spent the last year tumbling with that question and the possible scenarios and it does us no good to speculate on what may have been. I turned to him with a smile that I hoped would reassure him and he agreed. In that moment, I realized my own partial vindication, but more importantly, that I wanted him to be happy. Derailing any of that for my own masochistic emotional pleasures would be selfish and unfair. Only two can tango when the time is right.
Our conversation went on for a while longer and eventually the combination of alcohol and swinging motion of the swing set turned my stomach around and we agreed that it was a good time to head back towards our respective beds. He walked me a good distance home and we ended the evening the same way it had begun. A smile, a big hug and a goodnight.
It had been twelve months since our last late night walk and we can both take a little solace in the fact that we both missed them so.
To see a list of the days click here.