Melanie's Awakening

by Michael Cross

  Daniel replied “Whatever” and then asked, “Melanie, why not a toast to the beautiful bride here? Come on, I will get you a drink!” I shook my head, “No thanks Daniel. You know I don’t drink.” Daniel glared at me, “Oh Melanie, still the prude aren’t you? Oh, wait a minute, prudes generally don’t run around naked for their teacher or…you know – other things.” If I had a gun, and it would not have caused Nicole grief, I would have blown his head off right there. I could feel the adrenaline in my system, the fight or flight response, but as much as I would have loved to fight this was not the time. I was not going to hurt Nicole on her wedding day so I looked at him and asked, “Please Daniel, I don’t think this is going anywhere. So can we stop this?” Daniel nodded, “That is absolutely correct – it won’t!”

  Daniel tried to pull Nicole away with him but Nicole resisted. She did not say a word but became stiff and looked down, hurt and probably confused. Nicole asked, “Daniel, can I have a few minutes alone with Melanie?” Daniel just glared at me and muttered something odd, “Sure, but can I trust you two alone?” Nicole’s mouth opened but she did not utter a word as she stared at the floor. Daniel repeated the phrase, “Whatever!” and walked off to join a group of young men. Nicole remained frozen in her pose. I could not understand why Daniel had been determined to cause a fight and to put me down. He had never been my favorite person, but I would not have expected this. Now I knew why Nicole had stopped contacting me, why I was shut out of her wedding, and why I was feeling so much like an unwelcome guest. For some reason Daniel had turned against me, but why?

  Nicole suddenly spoke, “I’m sorry Melanie – you didn’t deserve that. I just don’t know what to say right now.” I extended my hand to her and she quickly took my hand. I asked her to forgive me for not commenting on her wedding dress or paying more attention to her special day. Nicole squeezed my hand and a tear came to her eye, “Thank you Melanie. Thank you for being my friend.” At that moment Daniel returned and asked, “So, am I interrupting anything special?” I just looked at him and said nothing, “Okay, you two go right ahead and do whatever you wish.” He laughed in a condescending manner and took Nicole’s chin to direct her look towards his face, “I will be participating in our wedding reception.” He turned to look at me with an angry expression on his face, but said nothing. He then released her and walked back to his buddies.

  As soon as he had left Nicole asked if I would promise to keep in touch. I replied, “I will. And Nicole, I hope you get everything you ever wanted from this day forward.”

  She sighed and said, “Thank you Melanie – you too!” I asked her to wait while I drew her a note stating, “Redeem this for one special favor reserved for a woman who deserves the very best in the world! Love, Melanie.” I figured she deserved that more than the designer glass set I had bought for her as a present. As she read it she wept and said, “He’s not that way normally. Maybe I can tell you later why he is acting so strange. He’s still your friend too.” I nodded, “Sure, I believe you.”

  I never had the opportunity to talk to Nicole in person anymore that day – she and Daniel were taking off on a trip to New York for their honeymoon. I felt so out of place that I wished I could just walk through some portal and come out in my apartment in Seattle. I did not look forward to the bus trip at 10:30pm, or the wait for that matter. I would at least have time to think though – about what was going on and why Daniel had taken such a negative attitude towards me. Nicole had promised never to tell him about our brief time together – had she let him know I wondered? Maybe that was the reason he had attempted to keep us apart, and why he did not care to have me around anymore. I would ponder this question over and over in my head on my trip back to Seattle.

  Chapter 3

  When I arrived home in Seattle I was glad I had gone to the wedding. At least I knew that my old soul mate was still desirous of being my friend and that made me feel better. I wondered if we would ever have anything more than e-mail connection though.

  The next few weeks were busy as I had several projects and papers that were all coming due. I received a call from my mom wishing me a happy birthday – three weeks after the fact – and asking if I was coming down to Portland for the holidays. All I promised her was that I would be there for Christmas – I wanted to get a head start in two classes in which the professors had given me the assignments for the remainder of the academic year. I found it much more relaxing to complete projects early rather than hanging out with my mother.

  By Christmas Eve I had accomplished my tasks. I knew it would be an ordeal but I dutifully left Seattle after dinner to make the journey to her house. I arrived late and after the polite greetings I went to the spare bedroom and passed out. Of course Christmas day at my mom’s was the same as one could always expect – sitting around for a long time and waiting for the turkey to be done. There were chips and candy in the living room and Gerald watching football games on TV. He seemed to try to find things to talk about with me but we just never connected too much. I went into the kitchen after a while to see if my mom needed any help. She thanked me and asked how Nicole’s wedding was – I gave her the “Oh it was so beautiful” routine.

  I wondered why she did not make any comments about how she would set up my wedding someday. I decided to prod her for some commentary. I asked, “So how do you think my wedding will look, I mean, how would you suggest setting it up?” Her answer was not what one would expect, “Why worry about that now Melanie? Who knows, maybe you won’t even get married – there is nothing wrong with that you know.” I was thrown back by that, “Mom! Talk about a positive outlook!” She continued working on getting vegetables on the stove while explaining, “Melanie, I was married when I was 24 and divorced before 30. You may be asking the wrong person about these things.” I sighed, “So don’t you even look forward to grandkids?” to which she replied, “Not especially, I guess I am not like other women my age who wait around anxiously for their kids to have children – maybe it would make me feel old, I don’t know.”

  I was somewhat angry at this point. A daughter needs encouragement, not someone planting seeds of doubt. If this had not been so personal I would have brought up demographics or the positive things you derive from being a family but I decided to just go back to the living room and put up with Gerald’s attempts to explain football to me. A few moments after I sat down my mom came into the room with a book. She handed it to me – it was a book featuring photographs of nature in the Pacific Northwest. She commented, “This came in the mail last summer…sort of strange though, the envelope it came in had Japanese or Chinese writing on it and it was addressed to you.” I looked inside and then noticed writing on the inside cover. It read, “To my dearest Melanie! Merry Christmas! I look forward to the two of us enjoying these places together once that special date in June arrives. Love, Mark!” I was stunned! I asked in almost a whisper, “Mom! Where is the envelope?” She apologized, “I am not sure Melanie. I think it and the letter in it accidently wound up in the recycling box. Is it important?” I sat there turning the pages in slow motion and then replied, “No Mother, just don’t worry about it!”

  For the rest of the afternoon I was consumed with anger – anger at Mark for hurting me from beyond the grave like this as well as my mother’s idiocy for tossing out any clue as to who sent the book. I barely talked with her at dinner. I went to bed early and lost myself in a state of hatred for the world, for my mom and even for Mark. How could he have been so selfish to commit suicide and sentence me to such pain?

  The next morning I just wanted to get out of her house. I needed something to revitalize my spirits so I put on some symphonic metal music, turned the volume high, and embarked on a long drive to Eugene so I could visit the Cougar Hot Springs. It was a cold, clear day and, thankfully, the roads were free of snow. The mountains were white and glistened in the sunlight. As I drove the winding road I hoped there would be interesting people there to talk to – yet to my surprise the pools were v
acant. As I sat in the beauty and solitude I cherished so much I felt sad that I had nobody to share this moment with. I thought of the man who abandoned me – just like my father had so long in the past. I also resented my mother for not giving me at least one brother or sister who would have shared life with me. How could she have been so selfish? So as I sat there in the water I felt even more emptiness than usual; rather than feeling energized, depression took over. Finally I put my clothes on and left on the long journey back to Seattle. It seemed that I would spend the rest of the holidays doing what I had become accustomed to in recent years – buried in study.

  A few days later, just before the New Year’s holidays, I was in the library and busy tiring out my eyes on some sort of research data. A tall slender woman came over and sat her books down across the table from me. I thought that was odd since there were plenty of empty tables available – in fact, there was only us and a few Asian students scattered around the library. What caught my eye was her dyed black hair with green highlights. She was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt imprinted with a European heavy-metal band I actually listened to. Her arms were slender, but not muscular so I did not get the idea she was athletic.

  After a few minutes of silence she asked, “So, away from home for the holidays too?” I answered that I was and she commented, “I decided to stay here for the holidays rather than go back there.” I detected some sort of European accent so I asked, “So where is “there?” I mean, where are you from?” She introduced herself as Sara Bergman and said she was originally from Sweden but she was finishing her graduate degree in engineering here. We started talking and I mentioned that I had ancestors from Sweden, but they came over a long time ago. She asked what I knew of Sweden and the holidays and I told her I did not know much except for the Vikings.

  We wound up talking for what turned into a couple of hours. I really craved connection with someone at that moment, and was happy to relax that evening. She asked how people celebrated New Years in Seattle. She had actually not remained in the US for the holiday season until this time since she loved Swedish traditions and had always spent the season back with her family. She commented, “We always set off fireworks on New Years. Do people do that here?” I said it was not common. She was disappointed but then I proposed, “You know, I’ll bet we can buy fireworks at an Indian reservation – they are illegal to get here in Seattle. You do the driving and I will go with you if you want to check it out!” She replied, “Fantastic! Yes, I will drive.” We then looked at the internet and found that a large reservation existed east of Seattle – out in the desert. She said she had not really been in the country here and maybe we could make it an overnighter. I liked the idea and so we decided to give it a try the next day.

  After she picked me up in the morning I soon discovered she was quite hyper and she liked to talk and talk. We discussed American politics at length. I tried out my knowledge of Swedish politics as well since one of the forums I debated on had several Swedish members. Then religion came up – which would be an interesting topic of contention for us. She considered herself a Lutheran but she did not believe in God – which she said was quite common for her people. I on the other did believe – I just wanted nothing to do with religion in any formal sense. We touched on so many different areas in regards to any superior power – psychology, biology, physics…you name it; anything that even remotely dealt with God seemed fair game. In the end we merely agreed to disagree.

  On our way to the reservation I acted somewhat like a tour guide. I still found it unbelievable that she had been attending college in Seattle for so long yet had never ventured out into the wilderness areas. She said she had done some travel after she graduated from high school but it seemed the destinations she mentioned did not involve roughing it. I was rather surprised when she said she had taken two years off after high school. I asked how old she was and she responded she was twenty six, which I suppose was fairly typical for grad school.

  I asked if she might like exploring some hiking trails and, while not exactly enthusiastic, she said she was open to it. I figured that maybe we could check out something after we arrived in our destination. Upon entering the main town on the reservation I asked where we could get the fireworks, and it was not long before we were loading up a sack with our illegal play things. I suggested we look around and maybe find an interesting area for nature exploration after lunch. We settled on a trail by the river – which to me was more a glorified bike path although she said it felt rugged to her.

  While Sara was wearing a jacket that looked warm she soon complained about how cold she was. So we returned to the town and looked for a place to eat. She wanted something a bit fancier than a hamburger joint, which was hard to find, but we discovered something to her liking at a rustic hotel – the place we wound up spending the evening.

  I liked the intellectual discussions I could have with Sara. That evening and the next day it was sort of like an informal seminar whether we were in our room, eating, or in travel. Once we returned to Seattle Sara asked if I would like to go out for some drinks with her. I told her I did not drink but would be happy to keep her company – she was amazed when I informed her I had never even tasted alcohol, but she would encourage me many times in the future to give it a try.

  I cannot say I enjoyed the atmosphere of the nightclub she took me to that evening. I found the smell of alcohol repulsive and the behaviour of the patrons to be pathetic – drug induced sociability was not something I admired. Yet I did enjoy Sara’s company. When she suggested we get celebrate New Years Eve in a Swedish manner – setting off fireworks while drinking I said I would very much enjoy the fireworks, but I would stick to soda. She seemed okay with that.

  At least I would not have a lonely New Years. That afternoon, while waiting for Sara, I checked my e-mails and noticed I had a mail from Nicole. She had not sent anything for Christmas but she did send me a New Year’s greeting, “Let this year be unique and filled with joy! Your ever – loving friend, Nicole.” I was happy to receive her card, but for some reason I wondered if she was happy. I sent a card in reply and shut off the computer.

  I prepared a dinner for Sara and she showed up with the fireworks, a box of candy and a bottle of wine. Apparently in Sweden when you go to someone’s house you take an offering – and I at least liked candy. We had a good time that evening waiting for the ushering in of the new year and setting off fireworks in the vacant field behind my apartment complex. I suggested she stay over since she had pretty much finished off the wine, and so the next day we were able to just hang out. It seemed I was not getting as much work done as I had hoped, but it was worth it if I could make a new friend. And I was learning a great deal about Sara’s culture.

  She and I would see each other quite a bit before school started and then afterwards as well. By the end of January I could say she was, in all senses of the word, a friend. We liked to talk on the phone, or in person, but often we were engaged in debate. To a casual observer one might be temped to say we were antagonists. After all, aside from debating all the time she was more a city girl, me more outdoorsy; she was more conventional while I enjoyed the esoteric. For some reason however we still hit it off and enjoyed each other’s company immensely.

  In mid February Sara asked if I would like to take the weekend off and go up to British Columbia. I had not been to Canada before so I told her I would love to. I was so happy to have someone to share things and hang out with. Sure, she was basically allergic to hiking boots but I had a friend and that overshadowed any “flaw” such as that.

  It was a short drive and ferry ride up to BC and we decided to spend Friday evening in China Town. Sara, or course, found a bar that served food so we ate there. While we dined she browsed through a local travel brochure and suggested we try out a nightclub. I shrugged my shoulders, smiled and said I would give it a try.

  When we arrived Sara seemed really excited about the club – I found it interesting to observe the people there yet the tec
hno music was so loud I excused myself momentarily. I headed to the bathroom and placed some compacted toilet paper in my ears – it was still loud, just not deafening. The light show and music was quite spectacular though. We sat at a table and Sara finished off a drink while I was content with my soda. Suddenly Sara took my hand and asked me to dance with her.

  I was not one into dancing – in fact I had never even been to a dance, well, maybe in middle school where I had the opportunity to stand alone against the wall and watch other people on the floor. Even in my younger years dances were merely another human activity to analyze – a sort of fertility ritual I had concluded. Yet here I was being yanked out onto the floor by Sara to probably make a fool of myself. She was encouraging though – I just tried to copy the movements of her body.

  After a while the beat of the music seemed to be sending me into a semi-hypnotic state. It was then I recalled reading about how Incan girls would dance for hours before being sacrificed by a priest. The soon-to-be-sacrificed virgins would merely look on and patiently wait for their turn to have their head removed by a long blade while moving to the beat of the drums. I was not quite there but I could sort of understand the state of mind now.