by SJ Cavaletti
A million thoughts moved through my brain at light speed, so fast I couldn’t see a single one of them.
I clicked. And there it was. Plain as day. We were going to see each other. And at Uyu of all places.
It was a simple email, and knowing Liz, she would have considered those few lines for quite some time. There was no way in hell she felt as laid back about a reunion as the email suggested.
“Hope to see you there.”
She told me where she camped. Did she hope to see me or was she going to avoid me but didn’t want it to be totally awkward if we bumped into each other?
Liz had changed. In so many drastic ways, Liz had changed, but one thing that I could count on was straight shooting.
She hadn’t been afraid to throw us away after all. She could have stayed with me forever and I would have doted on her, but…
Okay, El, don’t think about the past. Be present. What are you going to write back?
Did I want to see her? Yes. Did I NOT want to see her? Yes.
I’d invited Liz to Uyu every year since the first year I bought us a pair of tickets. Six months before she broke up with me. I bought them as I’d heard it was a place of healing. Bonding. Openness. Self-discovery. I had thought, as a Hail Mary, it just might have brought us closer together again.
And then, I kept writing to her before or after Uyu. And inviting her. But in the past couple years, it was out of habit. Much like her Christmas and birthday emails I’d say something like “wish you could be here.”
But I never expected her to join me. Like offering someone the last bite of your dessert. They just never take it.
Now, here she was. She wanted to see me. She told me where she camped so I’d be able to find her. Hell, I was pretty sure I’d be able to find her, anyway. It wasn’t like she’d be inconspicuous.
Or maybe she told me this news so that if we happened upon each other it wouldn’t be an enormous surprise. Like a pre-emptive strike.
I rubbed the corners of my eyes with my thumbs. Then, slumped onto my elbow, my cheek on a balled up fist. What the hell was I supposed to make of this?
For the past five years I had spent a lot of time healing, but in the darkest nights, and in my drunkest moments, a melancholy would wash over me, crushing me like a tsunami. I’d wish she would call me up and tell me she meant it when she said there was nobody like me. That now she had been away from me, she knew it for sure. That she’d like to give it a go again.
But that mostly only happened when I’d been drinking. In any given sober moment, I would have settled for closure.
Still, I didn’t really want to do it at Uyu. That one week per year had become my solace. My home away from no home. Correction. The only home I had. My time to be purely me with people that felt like family. A singular soul going about its business. One that didn’t need another half to make it whole.
And now, as much as I wanted to see her, she kind of crashed my party. I thought when we got together again it would be over a dinner when she had some conference in town and finally decided we deserved more truth than this charade we’d been playing several times a year.
I buried my head in my hands and let out an audible, “Shhhhhiiiiit.”
Then I looked back up at the screen and read her email again. Not once. Not twice. But three times.
So what did she want? Did she want to see me? Or avoid an awkward run in? I read between those lines so many times looking for a clue but it wasn’t there. Liz was too clever. And had a poker face that belonged in Vegas.
I had to write something back. And I had little time to sit on the words because with Liz coming from Florida and all the logistics she probably had to deal with, I was certain she’d be leaving soon. I knew she was glued to her cell and a total workaholic, so yes, she would definitely read my email at some point, but I didn’t want to make her sweat.
Cool as that email was, I knew my Lizzie well. She would have agonized for hours writing those few short lines. And probably pissed herself between then and now. An over-thinker to the max.
I took a deep breath and a sip of my Sweet Dreams worthless nighttime tea and typed:
Hi Liz-
That’s so exciting! Finally!
I’m really happy for you and the experience you are about to have. It goes without saying that I’m a big fan of Uyu so I’m not worried at all about you being disappointed.
Although I know you’d never admit it, I’m sure you’re a bit nervous. I’ll pop over to Vertical Soul camp at six o’clock on the first night. Which for me is Sunday. You know I’m more than happy to show you the ropes or help with anything you need.
Phones aren’t really a thing at Uyu, and neither is time so if you aren’t there, I’ll see you the next night, same time, same place and so on and so forth until we collide.
Love,
No. Not love.
“Sincerely…”
No. Too formal.
“Xoxo?”
Too Gossip Girl.
“Looking forward to it, El.”
The next day was said Sunday. I didn’t sleep a wink. That was no different to most nights except during those, I sort of just let my mind wander, maybe read. But it had been years since I had experienced the level of deep pain, heart attack level anxiety.
The last time I felt this level of skin-flaying, drawn and quartered insomniac torture was for the eighteen months after the accident.
I looked forward to getting out of bed at five a.m. because staying in it was suffocating. Thank God I was seeing my people today.
I had a plane to catch to Reno, where I was going to meet Maeve and Drake. At first, it comforted me to think about hanging with my brother. But then anxiety struck again. I used to go alone with Drake.
Everything was changing.
This was my sixth Uyu and every year since gifting Liz’s ticket to Drake, I’d rolled down the road to get him from his place. Then I’d throw his two duffle bags in the car. And the entire way to the airport I’d talk about how unprepared he was and I’d feel awesome because I knew I’d save the day with my supplies. And he’d relax me, because Drake could relax anybody. He could talk an agoraphobic acrophobic person into skydiving. He had that soothing quality.
I really wished I didn’t have so many hours between now and seeing my bro. And the rest of my family, too. Koa and Jasmine, they’d calm me right down with one of their songs and dances. Take me away on a Polynesian holiday instead of this drizzly hell hole of a mind I wallowed in.
Now, because my drama broke in to the one and only drama-free zone in the world, my head was in a tailspin.
I took a deep breath and for a minute wished I smoked weed.
Thank God I had left nothing until the last minute. All I had to do was shower, get in the car, and get my dazed and confused butt to the valet parking at Sea-Tac. And hopefully sleep on that flight.
5
Liz
Present Day
In Flight
* * *
It was a long flight. I should have enjoyed my first ever experience in first class. We sat with only a handful of other people in comfortable, luxuriously large recliners facing one another.
Simone had taken care of details like an absolute rock star from start to finish. I don’t know who she got to pay for our upgrade, maybe it was her. She rolled like that. Shame I couldn’t take advantage of unlimited Prosecco. I didn’t feel much like putting anything in my stomach.
So flipping annoying. I might never have another cross-country flight in this kind of style again, and I couldn’t even take advantage of the bubbles. The comfort. I should have been watching a movie, or popping on an eye mask in the comfort of a subtle red wine haze. But instead, my nerves sizzled and my heart pounded inside my tight chest like it was dying to get out of there.
Simone had fallen asleep watching back episodes of Empire. She knew them all anyway. I stared at the pages of one of the two books I brought. I hadn’t bothered bringing my Kindle. I d
idn’t want to ruin any electronics that didn’t have to be there. Now I was halfway through one of my only two reads. Except, really, I wasn’t sure I had processed a single word.
All I could think about was El.
Chest pains settled in like they might not go away. A sharp stab that I wished was heartburn but knew was anxiety. Shit. How long was Simone going to sleep?
I needed to talk to someone, even though I wouldn’t talk about this. Most likely not. But I’d happily waffle about something insignificant.
I didn’t like talking about my problems. Not since I was a little girl. I’m not sure what my parents did to mess me up (unfortunately my therapist had told me I was totally responsible for what I do here and now). But I had always been an optimist. And in the moments of being down, I’d fake it till I made it and it had always seemed to work. Why did I think this was being messed up? Because I wouldn’t just let myself have a moment.
And everyone needed a moment now and again.
My body ruined itself right now. I even started sweating rings under my arms. The only way out of this feeling was a Xanax or a shoulder to cry on.
Just then, the plane jolted with turbulence and a flight attendant walking by bumped knees with Simone, who rustled from her sleep.
Her eyes popped open, and she took an audible breath in through her nose.
“Dang. How long was I out?”
“Like a couple hours or something,” I said, still holding on to the armrests, even though the plane had leveled out.
“What’s with you?” She asked. “I thought you like roller coasters.”
“I do. Just feeling. I don’t know. Excited I guess?”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
She eyed me. Simone’s eyes were beautiful and huge. And if she looked at you like that, the way she looked at me right now, you knew there was no point in lying because they saw all.
“Just a bit of anxiety, I guess,” I conceded. I hoped she’d ask what was wrong. I was desperate for her to segue.
Even though I wasn’t good at talking about emotions unless they were positive, or belonged to someone else, I had to push myself to offload. No antacid was going to cure this horrible feeling behind my sternum. The only way out for this pain was through my mouth.
“Are you worried about Uyu?” Simone asked. “I promise Liz I wouldn’t take you there unless I knew I had everything set.”
“No. It’s not that.”
“I was going to say. It’s not like you to worry about that kind of stuff. You like adventures.”
“Yeah.”
I loosened my vice grip and tried to look casual as I formalized the words that would make up this conversation. But Simone and I, though we were technically work colleagues, had grown together through our work and I really knew I could count on her. I knew she would care.
She wasn’t very good with advice, but she was a skilled listener. “So what’s the problem then?”
“You know El, right?”
“Your ex? Yeah. I don’t know him but I know of him.”
“He’s going to be at Uyu.”
Simone picked up her water and took a drink. “That’s nice. I thought you guys are friends. So why do I feel you’re going to tell me otherwise?”
“We’re supposed to be friends. I just haven’t seen him in years and…”
“You worried he’s going to have another girl there? You’re the jealous type, aren’t you? I know you are. You have that bunny boiler thing about you,” she joked.
I cocked an eyebrow. I hadn’t even thought of that. What if El did have a girlfriend I didn’t know about? It’s not like he was some prolific social media man who spilled his life all over the internet. And it wasn’t the kind of thing we would have shared in our polite email updates. At least I had never told him about my three-month stint with Dave.
“I’m not the jealous type,” I said.
Yes, I was. I was definitely the jealous type. Or at least the type that didn’t want to see my old man with someone new.
“Anyway, it’s normal not to want to see people move on,” I said. “I don’t think that makes a person ‘the jealous type.’” I made air quotes.
“Yeah. That’s probably true,” she said, so relaxed compared to me. The juxtaposition just made me feel like I was falling further into last place.
“Anyway, that’s not it,” I continued, pushing myself to keep talking, “But thanks for putting an additional problem in my head.”
She stretched her arms up, pushing some energy from her core to the ends of her fingers.
“What’s the other problem?” She asked.
I looked over my shoulder for the flight attendant. “Do you think it’s okay to ask for some bubbles?”
“Course it is. You can’t get on a plane drunk but you can get drunk on a plane.”
But I didn’t call anyone over. I still didn’t want a drink. I was stalling. I especially didn’t want anything bubbly that might further agitate the wash cycle in my stomach.
“Okay,” I took a deep breath. “El and I were actually engaged.”
“Oh. Wow. You made it out to be nonchalant. Like you just dated. Why…”
I interrupted.
“I know. I don’t like talking about it. Or I didn’t. At the time that I told you about him, it was still pretty fresh. I had only just moved back from Seattle and I just wanted to leave it all behind. You know?”
Simone had been one of the first people I met after moving back to Florida from Seattle. After the breakup. After I broke both our hearts.
“And,” I continued, “I just never brought it up again because I didn’t want to dwell. But basically, El was a big deal to me. And… he was involved in my accident.”
“Oooo-kay.”
Her wide eyes narrowed, and apart from the occasional blink, she waited patiently. There go those expert listening skills.
How to explain? Well, I didn’t. More of verbal vomit than an explanation.
“Okay, so he was involved in the accident and then I broke up with him after that. Sort of left him high and dry and just saying let’s be friends and almost forcing him to accept it… Let’s just say… we never had closure. He was too nice to push and fight with me. I was in a bad way, after all. And I’m pissing my pants thinking about having to face him again. Like, what if he’s been harboring five years of anger and it all comes out in the desert?”
“When you’re supposed to be having a good time?”
“Yeah. And research. I’m supposed to be doing research.”
“Yeah.” she eyed me up and down, watching me grow more upset by the second. “Research.”
She let me speak and speak I did. It was like years of pent up pressure ached to get out. “And worse than possibly facing a total telling off. Which maybe I deserve, is that I haven’t really gotten over it all. I mean, I didn’t break up with him because I didn’t love him anymore. It was so complicated. But I know I broke his heart and I never really told him the whole of my feelings and I probably needed to do that because he deserved it. And I still feel kind of guilty for raking him over the coals, you know? I mean, I’m totally happy now. And I’m sure he is, too, it’s just you know, we never really talked about the accident either and I’ve had all this therapy but what if I messed him up?”
Simone leaned over from her chair and touched my knee.
“Girl. Calm down. Take a deep breath. Even I’m getting arrhythmia over here.”
Simone called the flight attendant over.
“I don’t actually want any alcohol, Simone.”
The attendant arrived. “Could my friend here have a water and some herbal tea? Chamomile?”
The attendant nodded his head.
“Thanks, hon,” I said to Simone. “I’m sure I’m just making a huge deal of this.”
“Maybe. Honestly? In my experience, I find we all sort of build things up and imagine other people are wallowing and thinking about us and our evil deeds twenty
-four seven but most people just move on. I doubt he’s been holding this over your head the way you’ve been building it up. It’s been five years.”
Brilliant listener exit stage right. Cue terrible advice.
“Yeah. It just wasn’t a normal breakup,” I muttered.
“What’s a normal breakup, anyway?”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on. You know. Top three.”
I put up my index finger.
“One. Cheating.”
Another finger.
“Two. You hate their family and friends.”
Another finger.
“Three. You don’t actually have a connection. Never did or just grew apart.”
Simone thought about my top three and considered whether she wanted to add something to the list. She didn’t.
“So, you and El didn’t fall into any of those categories?”
“Nope.”
“So you decided to marry a guy. He never cheated on you. You like his family and friends and you didn’t grow apart?”
“Yup.”
“And you broke up with him, anyway? You are going to tell me that story, right?”
My tea and water arrived. I thanked the flight attendant and tried a sip. “Ah. Hot.”
“Yeah. Duh. Use some ice.”
I put an ice cube in, stirred and watched the ice melt. Wondering how long it would last. Wondering if it preferred to be hot or cold. I never asked El what he wanted. I never gave him a chance to speak.
Not that he couldn’t have. Sometimes I wondered why he hadn’t fought harder for me to stay. Though he had made it clear at the time that he didn’t want to break up… why hadn’t he fought harder?
Then again, I was one stubborn chick. He knew that. He knew there was never any changing my mind about anything. Is that why?
Or was there a part of him that knew us breaking up was for the best?
Was it even for the best?
As I stirred the tea, the lack of sleep and high cortisol zoned me out and I fell into a vortex of questions and memories. Like a tornado picked up all the shit in my mind labelled “El” and now I swirled around in the storm, trying to make sense of each tattered object.
