"to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. That is to have succeed.”
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)
"We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey no one can take for us or spare us.”
(Marcel Proust)
The tension is thick, that much is true. A chance collision led to a planned "get-together" at a public diner. Few words are said, just glances back and forth. Our eyes pass each other, but they seldom meet. What does one say to a past lover? The topics are the usual chit-chat: "How are you", "How is school", "How is life treating you?" Yet nothing serious is said. I smoke a cigarette, Camel Lights, and she drinks her coffee, black with melting ice cubes. The looks I give are neither ill-intended nor loving, just blank stares into the eyes of the one I once lived for, the one person I can say I actually loved.
I took the chance to actually stare at her. She is beautiful. As I hone in on those amazing brown eyes, I soak up her form, remembering what it was like to hold her in my arms as we lay in bed together. I'd be lying if I said I still didn't have feelings for her. What kind of love would it have been if it is so easily forgotten? She cut her hair, it looks good on her, short, controlled. I stare behind her eyes, into her soul. At one point in time, that had been where I hid. Even if she wasn't around, I'd close my eyes and bring up the memory of the warmth I felt when I was around her. Now it is cold and unrevealing of her thoughts. Does she feel the same as I? My cigarette is finished, slowly burnt to ashes as I was staring. Damn, was I in there that long? I don't know.
Longing for something to do besides rap my fingers on the table, I light another cigarette. Only nine left, I'll have to stop off at Mobil on the way home. She gives me a dirty look, as she never approved of my addiction, but I pay no attention.
"Another one," she asks, breaking the long silence. She sounds like my mom when she lectures me on the dangers of smoking.
Who the hell are you to care anymore? The words sound dangerous so I merely reply with a shrug of my shoulders and a weak smile as I inhale.
"Are you ever gonna quit?"
"Not until I want to, and I don't yet." A cold answer to a fairly innocent question, but I know her better than that. She's attempting to control the conversation by asking all the questions, so I make a move. "Why does it bother you that I smoke? Do you not like that fact that I'm slowly killing myself, or does the aroma hurt your sensitive nostrils?" That came out more harsh than I wanted, but I can't take it back now.
"I guess a little of both. My nostrils aren't that sensitive, I just thought you'd have quit by now." Her voice is calm and quiet, but there is a strange look in her eyes: rage? caring? What ever it is, I am not prepared for it.
"Well, I always have had a problem of letting go," was my reply. In my head a voice said "Ha, take that!"
Stunned by my attack on our past, she reminds me, "You were the one who broke it off, not me."
I guess I deserved that one, she is correct… but I had my reasons. We weren't the same anymore. Who she is was not the one I loved, and who I am is not the person she said she loved, and since we were still in love with the people we were, why keep going? It would only hurt more when we came to the realization that we were no longer compatible. So it did make sense.
The break-up happened over the phone. I was at school, she was home. Our last time seeing each other was rocky, and we almost broke up then, but she said something that made me think. "If you want to break up, then alright. If you don't want to break up, then that's o.k. also. All that matters to me is that I want you to be happy." How can you not be with someone who feels like that?
Well, I soon realized that I wasn't happy, and it was the distance that caused it. Four hundred miles puts a damper on things, especially when we're both physical people. Talking is never enough. Sight, and touch are the senses my relationships depend on. Not just sex in particular, although that's never a bad thing, but holding hands, or wrapping my arms around her. So when she called, I simply stated how I felt. She felt the same, pretty much, so it went over better than I planned, but is that a bad thing? I guess not.
Little did I know that things weren't over. When I came home for break, I went to see her. Why, I don't know, but I did. We started off well, her sitting on her bed, me sitting in her chair across the room, but one thing led to another, and, I wound up getting laid that night.
That was not planned. That caused my feelings for her to reignite, as I am not usually one to just have sex with someone. But she insisted on our love-making as being a "good-bye fuck." I left confused, but I remembered that I'll be at school again soon, and attempting to get back together with her is not an option.
So here I am, sitting at a booth, with my once past love sitting across from me. The look in her eyes is inquisitive. "What are you thinking about?"
That's my question. I always asked her that, and now she's using it, on me nonetheless. "Wait a minute, it's just a question," I remind myself. "How can I be mad at that?"
With that thought I decide to answer her question honestly. "I was remembering how we were. I had a lot of fun when we were together. There is nothing that I regret about our relationship. All that happened meant something at the time, and to regret that would be to throw away that chunk of my life that I spent loving you. No, I am content with our relationship. Besides, its over now, I have moved on. But remember, you still hold a part of me where ever you go. That I can not deny."
"Wow, I don't know what to say. All this time I sat here thinking you were mad at me or something. I guess I should thank you. You know I can't ever forget you, but you're right. What we had is in the past, and we have to move on, especially if we are to be friends."
Well, god damn. Now what? The tension has lessened by a great amount. "So, how do we go about doing that?" Hey, it's all I could think of. "I'm as new at this as you are. Every other girlfriend I've had kind of hated me after we broke up, and it was them who broke it off."
"I guess what we do now is just talk, I guess, you know, like all other friends."
"What, do you mean like, telling each other everything?" Trust me, I'm usually not this stupid, but I'm attempting to be honest with her. It's a new concept for me, and I'm doing my best.
"yeah, but at first we'll probably be a little reserved with certain things."
When the hell did she get so much insight about relationships? I was usually the one to dominate the intellectual side of our relationship, and now she's in charge? I guess things have changed.
Well, the rest of the conversation is boring chit-chat again, but at least now it's a little more comfortable to talk. Soon, she mumbles something about having to wake up early tomorrow and says her good-byes. She tells me she'll call, drops a dollar on the table for the check, and walks out. I watch as she opens her car door, and drives out of the parking lot.
I sit at the table, light a sixth or seventh cigarette, and replay the whole meeting in my mind. I guess things aren't so bad, but in the back of my mind, I get the feeling I will never really talk to her again. I don't mind so much. She has definitely turned into a person I would usually shy away form. Her walk has become arrogant, and superficial. She's lost in a world where direction is what keeps you alive. She doesn't know who she is, and I sort of feel sorry for her. She's just now realizing what life has to offer, and in a way, it's too late. |
