liking. I liked to find women who were 43
emotionally unavailable because, really, it was me who was afraid, me who was unavailable. Cindy knew me too well.
“Yeah, but Cin, I mean, come on. She’s a fucking rock star, for Christ’s sake. That’s a whole new level of unattainable for me. What will I do, sit home and watch porn and hang out with the cat while she’s on tour in Japan, or Australia, or God knows where?”
She gave me the look all best friends have. The one that says, “I know the truth about you.” She lit a cigarette with a match. I found this endearing about her. Cindy was a woman who could afford Zippo lighters made out of gold if she wanted one, yet she was always rummaging through her purse to find a match. She was also constantly quitting smoking, but never quite managed to do it, like it was a project she kept putting off.
“The truth, kiddo, is you have strayed farther and farther from your true self ever since you ended things with Liz. That was nearly ten years ago, for God’s sake. I won’t say just get over it already because I know, I know it was the most painful thing you have ever been through. I know she was the only woman you ever really loved. But just because that didn’t work out doesn’t give you license to abandon the hope of ever being happy.”
I flinched when she mentioned Liz, still, after all those years. But it was true, that relationship ending changed me profoundly, and I still wasn’t over it. Or maybe I was, but it was easier to lament the past then face an uncertain future. The end of my one and only failed marriage proposal had come to be something that defined me, built in to my personality and carried into my other romantic relationships.
As if on cue, she said, “You have a chance here to not bring that memory with you. It’s a new day, my friend. And you’ve got to admit, no matter what happens, its damn exciting stuff. This is what we live for! I remember when you were someone who believed in that, fate and chance and the value of experience…what happened to you, Maggie?”
I’ve just become a cynical, emotionally shut down alcoholic , I thought to myself. “I don’t know Cin, I just don’t know.” I started to cry a little without any kind of internal warning.
44
Embarrassed, I excused myself and went to the restroom. I splashed some cold water on my face and took a long hard look in the mirror and thought, Jesus, what is happening to me? I knew the answer. Janine had really gotten to me, deep down under my skin. I didn’t know how, but I knew it had happened.
Yes, it could absolutely be fate, or a past life connection, or something equally esoteric. Whatever it was, I knew Cindy was right, and whatever was going to happen with Janine was like a runaway train, and there was no stopping it.
When I got back to the table Cindy hugged me. “You know, I know you’re right, and, in the end, someone will probably get hurt, maybe you, maybe her. But I also know you would spend the rest of your life wishing you’d taken the chance if you didn’t. Do this for yourself, Maggie. Stop pretending you have some pre-determined path of being alone forever. Fate is what we make it.”
We settled the bill and walked around the village for a while, stopped in Rebel Rebel to browse, then got some cappuccino on the way to the parking deck where Cindy’s Lexus looked out of place in the halogen lights of the dingy garage, like a high-class prostitute in a dive bar. I loved that Cindy didn’t allow her success or her money to turn her into someone else.
She was still genuinely kind, she gave a lot of her money away to various charities, and still volunteered at a domestic violence shelter twice a week. The only thing she didn’t have was the same as me, a partner with whom to share it all. But Cindy’s case was much different than mine. She had found her true love, Joe, on the last leg of her international flight coming home from Tibet. They had
emotionally unavailable because, really, it was me who was afraid, me who was unavailable. Cindy knew me too well.
“Yeah, but Cin, I mean, come on. She’s a fucking rock star, for Christ’s sake. That’s a whole new level of unattainable for me. What will I do, sit home and watch porn and hang out with the cat while she’s on tour in Japan, or Australia, or God knows where?”
She gave me the look all best friends have. The one that says, “I know the truth about you.” She lit a cigarette with a match. I found this endearing about her. Cindy was a woman who could afford Zippo lighters made out of gold if she wanted one, yet she was always rummaging through her purse to find a match. She was also constantly quitting smoking, but never quite managed to do it, like it was a project she kept putting off.
“The truth, kiddo, is you have strayed farther and farther from your true self ever since you ended things with Liz. That was nearly ten years ago, for God’s sake. I won’t say just get over it already because I know, I know it was the most painful thing you have ever been through. I know she was the only woman you ever really loved. But just because that didn’t work out doesn’t give you license to abandon the hope of ever being happy.”
I flinched when she mentioned Liz, still, after all those years. But it was true, that relationship ending changed me profoundly, and I still wasn’t over it. Or maybe I was, but it was easier to lament the past then face an uncertain future. The end of my one and only failed marriage proposal had come to be something that defined me, built in to my personality and carried into my other romantic relationships.
As if on cue, she said, “You have a chance here to not bring that memory with you. It’s a new day, my friend. And you’ve got to admit, no matter what happens, its damn exciting stuff. This is what we live for! I remember when you were someone who believed in that, fate and chance and the value of experience…what happened to you, Maggie?”
I’ve just become a cynical, emotionally shut down alcoholic , I thought to myself. “I don’t know Cin, I just don’t know.” I started to cry a little without any kind of internal warning.
44
Embarrassed, I excused myself and went to the restroom. I splashed some cold water on my face and took a long hard look in the mirror and thought, Jesus, what is happening to me? I knew the answer. Janine had really gotten to me, deep down under my skin. I didn’t know how, but I knew it had happened.
Yes, it could absolutely be fate, or a past life connection, or something equally esoteric. Whatever it was, I knew Cindy was right, and whatever was going to happen with Janine was like a runaway train, and there was no stopping it.
When I got back to the table Cindy hugged me. “You know, I know you’re right, and, in the end, someone will probably get hurt, maybe you, maybe her. But I also know you would spend the rest of your life wishing you’d taken the chance if you didn’t. Do this for yourself, Maggie. Stop pretending you have some pre-determined path of being alone forever. Fate is what we make it.”
We settled the bill and walked around the village for a while, stopped in Rebel Rebel to browse, then got some cappuccino on the way to the parking deck where Cindy’s Lexus looked out of place in the halogen lights of the dingy garage, like a high-class prostitute in a dive bar. I loved that Cindy didn’t allow her success or her money to turn her into someone else.
She was still genuinely kind, she gave a lot of her money away to various charities, and still volunteered at a domestic violence shelter twice a week. The only thing she didn’t have was the same as me, a partner with whom to share it all. But Cindy’s case was much different than mine. She had found her true love, Joe, on the last leg of her international flight coming home from Tibet. They had
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