The Conversation
We're finally going to have THE conversation.It's been nearly fifty years since we split. Fifty years of reaching out to her to apologize for my barbaric behavior. Fifty years of my snail mails, voice mails, emails and even smoke signals, all unanswered. Not that she'd understand the smoke signals but hopefully at least recognize my need to apologize to her. Fifty years without her to brighten my day with a smile, excite me with a simple kiss or enrage me like me like an uneaten apple, ripped from the tree too early and then tossed aside as though sour and unappealing.
Tomorrow, thank heavens, we'll have that conversation I've sought for so many decades.
I wish that she might freely express her anger and justifiably yell and scream at me, hopefully to forgive me after. Or that maybe the night we split was more a terror in my mind than in hers. In the best of situations, maybe we'd meet for coffee and explore whether there was enough of our love left to try and rebuild what once was an amazing life of shared travels and experiences. Along with together exploring several continents and each other, we learned of some of the most beautiful and amazing things available in life. Unfortunately, we also learned about some of the worst. I'm not sure if the horrors of this place come from maturity or reality.
What I hadn't expected as her response was silence.
The problem with her silence was that I couldn't be sure she ever received what I'd sent. Did I have the numbers and/or addresses correct? Were there problems with the post office being unable to decipher my horrible writing? Was her mail intercepted by someone who didn't want us to communicate like her new companion, lover, child or someone else, something else needing to prevent us from talking?
Maybe she rightfully hated me. I certainly wouldn't blame her. All she had to do to release me from my self-induced torture was to say there was no absolution for my sins, no chance of rekindling that love we once shared, no sense in continuing to annoy her and intrude into her life. Just a simple phrase like "Go Away!" or simply, "Piss off"
Thankfully, tomorrow is my chance to have a conversation with her to explain exactly why I turned into the animal that I did and how that eventually led me to slay the dragons that lurked inside my heart.
We met through a mutual friend during junior high school and although we had similar interests in music, school subjects, politics, it took the longest time for me to build up the courage to call her. When she said she'd be happy to meet with me, I made the eight mile walk to her house so quickly, even I was amazed at the hidden speed I'd discovered.
Her father immediately disliked me although his concern about my lower social standing seemed idiotic since he came from coal country and had only recently purchased his first new vehicle. But at that time in history, it was almost expected that father's would fear losing their daughters to someone unworthy. Her mother wasn't much happier until she realized that I knew the Dewey Decimal system better than most librarians and could recite William Blake, Robert Frost and her personal favorite, William Ernest Henley. It now seems humorous to remember "I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul" and realizing that it couldn't be further from the truth. I am a servant to memory, a captive of history and a slave to her time in my life.
Those few years we dated and lived together seemed almost like a fairy tale and I suppose that's as close to reality as I saw life. Through a flaw in my upbringing, I managed to turn her against me no matter how much she fought it. If only I'd been born in a different place or time in a more civilized environment, I might have treated her as she deserved rather than as how I imagined I treated her.
To this day, I find myself attracted to women just like her. The ones with the biggest brains, the biggest heart and the smallest stature. I want a woman who reinforces my innate belief in fairies, pixies and the other amazing creatures who intelligently avoid humans. I mean as a life form, we're violent, possessive, self-absorbed who appear to care little for our own planet, let alone all the other life forms besides humans. And back then, I was an excellent example of that.
I'm glad that all of this will be explained to her tomorrow. It's too late at this stage in our lives but still merits saying. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
It used to be a desperate fantasy that somehow or other, I could expect someone who understood and appreciated when I called her a callipygian sylph to understand how sorry I was for any heartache I'd caused. After a decade or so, I lost that dream but still hoped to adequately apologize so that I could go to my grave with somewhat of a clear conscience. It may be that I'm not even a memory any more after living life for decades without me.
And every few years, I'd be blessed to find another companion that was similar enough to her for me to know I had found someone else to fawn over. Another elvish charm that allowed me to see signs of spring whenever she walked into the room. To hear music and birds with every call or meeting.
Unfortunately, none seemed to last. I'm not sure if I failed to pay as much attention as I should or if I paid too much. It's tough to get the right balance between hugging without smothering and I'm afraid I've lost partners to both.
So tomorrow, I'll see her and spill the years of tears and fears out of my heart. I'll finally have a chance to stand in judgement in front of her and see if there is one iota of forgiveness. I know what I did was horrific, inexcusable and so undeserved that even I can't forgive myself. Knowing how it changed me as a person makes my crime sometimes seem more a misdemeanor than a felony but a crime is still a crime and I don't get to judge the severity. She's not aware of how long I've spent agonizing over my behavior and making sure it didn't happen again. She's not aware of how that event changed my life so dramatically and I hope for the better.
I think that given our advanced years, those who might most object to my presence have long ago met their respective gods. I've made note of when her parents, siblings and others we knew back then have died. I can't imagine anyone other than her remembering me. And if they do, I shan't be there long enough to cause anyone undue stress. I'll simply go through the receiving line and mention we knew each other well in high school and then pause long enough at the casket to pass along my unending love and sorrow.