Part I: As we break through the clouds
THEN. I
"You ever think about the Priority Queues at the airport? What if, one day, everyone gets the Priority pass to get in early? Like – everyone! And then you're left with no one waiting at the regular queue. They're all priority. So how do you prioritize? Is there really a point for it? You buy the pass but you need to wait with everyone. Maybe they let you in - first come, first served. Or maybe they move you in an alphabetical order. Or by the number of your seat. Wouldn't you feel ripped off? I would! I'd like to get my money back. Move me to the regular queue. It's the exact damn thing. Or maybe you turn things around. If it's just a couple of regular queuers and the rest are priority - get the regulars in first, and then the priority queuers. That'd be karma for being an arrogant prick trying to outplay the system. What's the point, anyway? They're all getting in the same damn plane, it's not leaving without you. You know what, I would never go for the pass."
I heard her say all that but I couldn't follow. Couldn't process. She noticed immediately:
"Where are you right now?"
"Huh?" Suddenly I was back.
"You were SO far away. You couldn't hear a word I said."
I blinked a couple of times. I looked back at her in confusion. She was smiling, staring at me lovingly, probably trying to identify any signs of intelligence on my face. That was Nat alright, always giving me the benefit of the doubt.
"Not THAT far away. I was following you along with your stories…from…eh…work!"
"Yeah, sure!"
"For real! Just ask me a question from what you just said."
"Forget it, guy, we're not playing that game again. You're only going to get embarrassed. I win this one. No question what-so-ever!"
"Now that's just unfair," I said, standing up from our breakfast table. She giggled. She was right, though. "You eating that?" She nodded so I picked up her plate and dropped it in the sink
I drifted off again, while I was slowly cleaning up the plates.
"So where were you?"
To this day, I couldn't tell you what was going on with me that morning. It wasn't the sort of thing that I did regularly.
"God, you just did it again! My guy, is everything alright?"
I tried to snap out of it:
"Everything's fine. I'm just tired I guess…"
"Yeah, you are," she smiled as she groped my butt. I threw her one of my flirty looks. She backed off, hands up:
"Down boy, we have work to do today. I just showered. You're not getting me in there again," she nodded towards the bedroom.
"You have work to do. I'm just tagging along," I replied, biting my lip sensually (my word, not hers).
She giggled and dashed from the room.
Me and Nat. At that point we'd been together for three years or so. We were happy, we were cool. We were in a comfortable zone. Happy home. Decent sex. Decent jobs. Fairly healthy. You know…just a couple of 30-something year olds trying their best to be happy.
Mean people would jump to say that we were vanilla, basic, mundane. That would be so mean. We were so much more than that. Or…you know what, screw that. Maybe we were vanilla and kind of boring but regardless, we were happy…and for that moment, it was enough.
Shortly after, things would end up turning to complete and utter shit. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
We were happy. We had loved spending time together from day one. We still loved doing that. And we were always looking for new stuff to do together. Did we have our issues? For sure. We weren't aliens. We were, you know, vanilla. Just happy vanilla. Satisfied vanilla. Contented vanilla. We were ok.
You're reading this and probably wondering: what's this guy about? There's definitely something there. He's so full of shit. They were not great. They were not even fine. He's cracking. Lies are coming out.
The truth is I genuinely thought we were ok. Great, whatever. As I was doing those dishes, that's what I really believed. I also think, as Nat left the kitchen, (post groping my butt, may I remind you) that she was of the same opinion.
But then this weird thing happened that turned everything upside down. Everything that we thought we knew about anything. This was not the kind of thing that all people go through at one point or another. Hell no. And I want to think that whatever it was, it would have shaken the foundation of any couple, regardless of how solid they might have been before.
What I'm trying to say is this: while the whole ordeal was unfortunate, kind of depressing and left both of us with a bitter taste, it still wasn't the be all end all of our lives. Living proof of that is you reading these lines: me being content and at peace with myself and being able to not only tell the story (as it happened) but also remembering and analyzing everything we went through. Not with regret and resentment but rather with an increased feeling of wisdom. And Nat? I think Nat's great too. As you're reading this, she's probably the happiest she's ever been. We're both at peace with it, I think.
Yeah, I can already see you. I can almost hear you scoff. All you self-assured, smug people. You've already started. You're judging me. Judging us. You think you're so cool, bragging with your double-digit years of loving relationships? And your kids? We could have had that too, you know. We were, maybe, very close to having that.
There's another percentage of you that may feel like this is going the romantic dramedy direction. You're rolling your eyes thinking: here we go, I got tricked into reading what's basically a Woodie Allen film. You couldn't be more wrong. But I've digressed enough. Back to the story.
That morning. THAT morning. That god-awful morning, we were supposed to meet up with some girlfriends of Nat and help choose and transport some wedding paraphernalia. One of the girlfriends (I forget which and for the sake of the story it is irrelevant) was getting married in a couple of weeks (It was Marie! I'm pretty sure it was Marie. Screw you and your wedding, Marie!).
So that was the plan. Nat, as the good friend that she was, decided to form the female posse (her words, not mine) for this noble quest (that bitch, Marie, I never liked her. She never liked me either). I was tagging along because the whole premise sounded hilarious and it was such a good occasion to have a laugh and make fun of the whole thing... that I wouldn't miss it.
Don't know if you know this about me, you may not, how can you(?), but I like to be quippy. I tell jokes. Great jokes. Funny jokes. You know…jokes! So, there we were…
I washed the dishes, dressed up, fed the cat. Nat was just finishing up her make up. We were both ready. We got out of the house, got into the car and…
…and for the sake of the story I could exaggerate the next part. I could make it epic like…
Just at that moment, the War started and explosions went off everywhere. As we got into the car, a chopper flew above us just moments before getting hit by a missile turning it into a burning fire demon that was crashing down on top of us.
How does that sound? Sounds cool? Or maybe this one…
As we left the house, a black cat crossed our path. We got into the car and the same cat, or a different cat crossed our path again. A deja-vu! Then a bald man dressed in leather, wearing round sunglasses approached and told us: "Come with me down the rabbit hole, James!"
You don't like that one? Too derivative? I thought so too… Oh! Oh! Listen to this:
As we approached the car, we could suddenly hear a hum. And slowly but surely, that hum turned into a choir, like in a church. We were kind of taken aback by the whole thing, wondering what's going on? Where's the music coming from? Was Christmas early this year?
Then we saw this weird guy dressed in white walking towards us. He smiled and with a soft voice told us that it was time. And then…bam!
You know, I'm not there with you as you're reading this, but I have the strangest feeling that you're really not buying it. At all. Ok. Ok. I know what you want. You want it to be simple, awful, realistic. Gritty. Right? Yeah, ok. I'll give it to you, but know this. You're no fun.
We got into the car. I backed out from our alleyway and then out of nowhere something big hit us hard. We spun out of control. Everything turned into a blur. And that's how it started.
**
I thought it would be a NO from the both of us. Well, in all fairness, when it came to me, it was a hard no. Jamie had always been more open and naively honest. Yes, I wasn't too surprised. I wouldn't have tried forbidding him, of course. It is his story just as much. But me doing it with him? Telling my side? I wasn't too excited about that prospect. I wasn't even willing.
I didn't really see the appeal. It was painful enough to have lived through it at the time, why dig it up? Who's going to buy the story? Who's NOT going to call us crazy? Deranged? Unhinged? Or just full of shit? The whole story is like that.
And yes, it really did happen. It's all true. We couldn't explain it at the time and years later, we still can't do it. But sure, I'll tell my side of it. Hopefully it will balance nicely with his version.
So where do I start? I guess I have to go back to that morning. May, 12th. 2024. Late morning.
We were having breakfast. I was just rambling about random stuff, nothing special. But halfway through I could see Jamie was out of it. He wasn't listening. I didn't mind. He did this from time to time. It was one of those things you learn to live with.
The funny thing is that he would always argue with me saying that he was actually paying attention. He would dare me to quiz him on what I had just said. Some stuff he would guess, others would actually be dead wrong. Like not even close. But he was so cute and funny while doing it, that I couldn't resist. He would throw me that look of his, trying to be excessively delightful, with his messy hair. Yes, he was MY guy, you bet he was. It was just a fun thing we did. Needless to say, a fair number of these quizzes ended up in us having sex. Yes, he was a charmer like that. To be fair, he still is.
As a predictable (but very lovable) male specimen, taking into consideration past experiences, he tried to pull me into his game again. And as adorable as he was, that morning we had other important things to do. I could see him pout, his lower lip pushed forward like a toddler's. Trying to make me feel guilty. I laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Of course, he was very crafty that morning. As my lips came off his cheek, I could feel his hand softly squeezing my breast. Smooth!
As he was doing the dishes, I tried resuming the conversation. He was far away.
"Babe, is everything alright?"
He mumbled something about being tired, but I couldn't really discern it. That was my dear Jamie. I ruffled his hair and gave him another kiss. You're not going to believe it, but he was touching my breast again. Unbelievable.
This is the second time I'm mentioning the hair, right? Yeah, I bet. So, THE HAIR. When I first met him, the hair was kind of pissing me off. It was so messy and aesthetically-pleasing at the same time, that it made him look like such a douchebag. He really wasn't. Not even close. But it was just that first impression that hit me at the time. After we started dating, I grew to love it, of course. It is such an integral part of his personality; you have no idea. He would spend a fair amount of time making it look like that. So, it isn't as casual and unintentional as he might have you believe. He did mention the hair, already, didn't he? I'm sure he did.
Sorry, I drifted off into a rant. Where were we? Oh, yes! He was grabbing my breast. Again. What were his intentions? Take a guess.
"Down boy, we have work to do today. I just showered. You're not getting me in there again."
He bit his lower lip, trying to be sensual and goofy at the same time:
"You have work to do. I'm just tagging along."
I laughed and got out of there. There's only so much a girl can resist.
It was kind of true. Emily was getting married in two weeks. She needed help choosing a couple of girl stuff for the ceremony (something new, something blue, something to have an excuse to get out of the house) so she had asked myself and Marie to join. I thought Jamie could drive us there, hang out, help us with the baggage…you know, be the helpful boyfriend that I knew he was. I had to insist a bit but fortunately he never could resist my sweet and endearing cries for help.
The girls were happy for the company as well. They liked him. Most people did. He was likeable like that. Between me and you? Back when she went through a phase, Marie offered to join myself and Jamie for a threesome. But don't tell him that. He would KILL me for having denied him that. I think he fancied Marie too, enough to go for it. But that's another story.
As he was finishing the dishes, I put on some clothes and fed the cat. As she was tearing through her bowl of food, I called out at Jamie asking not feed her again (hopefully he had heard me). The sneaky thing would always beg for more. And Jamie, as the kinder, more merciful part of our duo, would always give up and comply.
Now comes the hard part, right? How it happened. To be honest I have no idea. Actually, WE have no idea. I hope no one buys any of that Sci-Fi crap. I wonder what he'll say this time? The Matrix? Angels? Superheroes? Have you heard the one with the superheroes?
The truth of the matter is that, to this day, we have no idea what happened. We got out of the house, locked the door. Said hello to the neighbors and walked to our car. We got into the car and then everything turned into a blur.
I realize now that I never actually gave the reason, right? Why did I change my mind? It's hard to say. I guess in part it's because I never had the time to process what we lost that day. And I want this to be my memoir - of the life we had before. I am 100% happy with where I am today, and I honestly think that Jamie's good too. But later it dawned on me: it would be unfair not to acknowledge and mourn what we had lost. Denying it, trivializing it, making it seem inconsequential - it couldn't be farther from the truth. Because it really was a beautiful part of our existence that for some reason or another, got lost forever.