i remember everything about that night. the way the airport smelled like mcdonald's chicken nuggets. how the loudspeaker cracked every fifteen seconds. that half of the florida keys was nearly destroyed by another hurricane.
the way his hair smelled of dove shampoo. the perfect crease on his perfect black slacks. his baby-blue sweater that brought out the gray-blue of his soul-searching, mystifying, trust-me-but-i'll-break-your-heart eyes. eyes that i came to know so well. eyes that could hurt me so, tear me into tiny pieces, make me beg on my hands and knees forgetting dignity, courage, stupidity, fucking weak femininity and neediness, and mend me whole again.
two years, five months, eight days, four hours and twenty-six minutes exactly. i had loved him so much. i love him so much. he knew it. he always knew everything.
"you going to be okay, kiddo?"
i used to think it was so patronizing how he called me kiddo. like i was some twelve-year-old. immature, naive. but it grew on me. it was endearing. it was sweet. like his kisses. like his touch.
"i'll be okay. it's not too bad. just five hours and i'll be in new york".
i shifted the weight of my briefcase to my other hand. i heard the loudspeaker crack again. final call for flight 573 to JFK.
"i better go".
"yeah. he safe. call me when you arrive, let me know you're okay."
we both leaned ever so subtly into each other. it was the moment, i felt it in the core of my bones, i saw it in his slight shortness of breath. it was now, or never.
i remembered the time he attempted to serve his own hand-picked oysters from the wharf to me in bed. how he added way too much vinegar to his minionette sauce. the way his eyes dropped when i spit out the oyster on his brand new cashmere sweater. the laughter that followed.
how is it that someone can make you feel so whole, but yet so incredibly alone? the heart's a damn tricky organ, you know. makes you feel vulnerable, but at moments like these, stronger than you'd ever think. i thought i couldn't live without him, but i've come to realize that i'm strong enough to know i'm not completely alone. it's hell, i'll cry, i'll beg my girlfriends to let me go back to him, i'll max out all three of my credit cards, but in the end, i'll come out bruised, shaken, ripped to pieces, but alive. myself. even stronger than before.
i never told him or thanked him for the greatest gift he could have ever given me.
the strength to walk away. the power he knew was vested in me. the ability to make myself whole again.
"why do you close yourself off to the world so much?" we were in the middle of green, under the huge oak tree, overlooking the robert mondavi miles' of vineyards.
"you're just scared". he brushed the hair out of my eyes. he held his fingers to my lips preventing me from objecting. "shhh...let's just enjoy this".
he was right. he read me. but he couldn't understand me. he couldn't understand that perhaps i just wasn't understandable. and that angered him, hurt him.
"why are we together if you feel that i'll never understand you? why the fuck are you so difficult? why can't you just let go of your reservations, stop holding back, fucking intimacy, kiddo, what the hell happened to that?"
he had both his hands in his pockets. i dropped my briefcase and nestled up against him. he held me close. and we stood there, captured in this moment, in the middle of the american airlines terminal in LAX, not caring we were in the middle of the exiting traffic.
i felt his lips against mine. the faint taste of cigarette ash. i closed my eyes and remembered. and fought back tears.
and forgot.
the hardest thing about moving forward...is never looking back.
the way his hair smelled of dove shampoo. the perfect crease on his perfect black slacks. his baby-blue sweater that brought out the gray-blue of his soul-searching, mystifying, trust-me-but-i'll-break-your-heart eyes. eyes that i came to know so well. eyes that could hurt me so, tear me into tiny pieces, make me beg on my hands and knees forgetting dignity, courage, stupidity, fucking weak femininity and neediness, and mend me whole again.
two years, five months, eight days, four hours and twenty-six minutes exactly. i had loved him so much. i love him so much. he knew it. he always knew everything.
"you going to be okay, kiddo?"
i used to think it was so patronizing how he called me kiddo. like i was some twelve-year-old. immature, naive. but it grew on me. it was endearing. it was sweet. like his kisses. like his touch.
"i'll be okay. it's not too bad. just five hours and i'll be in new york".
i shifted the weight of my briefcase to my other hand. i heard the loudspeaker crack again. final call for flight 573 to JFK.
"i better go".
"yeah. he safe. call me when you arrive, let me know you're okay."
we both leaned ever so subtly into each other. it was the moment, i felt it in the core of my bones, i saw it in his slight shortness of breath. it was now, or never.
i remembered the time he attempted to serve his own hand-picked oysters from the wharf to me in bed. how he added way too much vinegar to his minionette sauce. the way his eyes dropped when i spit out the oyster on his brand new cashmere sweater. the laughter that followed.
how is it that someone can make you feel so whole, but yet so incredibly alone? the heart's a damn tricky organ, you know. makes you feel vulnerable, but at moments like these, stronger than you'd ever think. i thought i couldn't live without him, but i've come to realize that i'm strong enough to know i'm not completely alone. it's hell, i'll cry, i'll beg my girlfriends to let me go back to him, i'll max out all three of my credit cards, but in the end, i'll come out bruised, shaken, ripped to pieces, but alive. myself. even stronger than before.
i never told him or thanked him for the greatest gift he could have ever given me.
the strength to walk away. the power he knew was vested in me. the ability to make myself whole again.
"why do you close yourself off to the world so much?" we were in the middle of green, under the huge oak tree, overlooking the robert mondavi miles' of vineyards.
"you're just scared". he brushed the hair out of my eyes. he held his fingers to my lips preventing me from objecting. "shhh...let's just enjoy this".
he was right. he read me. but he couldn't understand me. he couldn't understand that perhaps i just wasn't understandable. and that angered him, hurt him.
"why are we together if you feel that i'll never understand you? why the fuck are you so difficult? why can't you just let go of your reservations, stop holding back, fucking intimacy, kiddo, what the hell happened to that?"
he had both his hands in his pockets. i dropped my briefcase and nestled up against him. he held me close. and we stood there, captured in this moment, in the middle of the american airlines terminal in LAX, not caring we were in the middle of the exiting traffic.
i felt his lips against mine. the faint taste of cigarette ash. i closed my eyes and remembered. and fought back tears.
and forgot.
the hardest thing about moving forward...is never looking back.
