The Nostalgia Effect

by EJ Valson

  CHAPTER 47

  My feet are killing me. Even the thick pad under the booth carpet isn't helping. It's already been a very busy day. Which is good, because time goes by faster. Unfortunately, I won't get to relax later, as we're having a large suite party tonight to celebrate a product release.

  Stacy has been in and out of meetings all day with Steve, so I've been left in the booth with Michael, Bjorn and two other Marketing reps, Jane and Roger.

  I'm on the opposite side of the booth, away from Michael-who is staffing a product station. Occasionally I'll glance over to watch him do a demonstration. It's odd observing my young future husband stumble over his words to explain a product I'm sure he'll one day understand better than I do. It's sort of endearing.

  From the corner of my eye, I notice a small boy approaching the booth. He looks at the stuffed animal that we promote as a give-away prize, and signs to his mother. I can tell that he wants to hold it. Michael sees the boy, walks over and crouches down to his level. I can't hear what Michael's saying, but the boy's mother is translating it into sign language for him.

  Quickly and with force, the warm sensation comes over me. Zap! Euphoria. It's clear. This has happened before. Michael will decide to give the stuffed animal to the little boy, who will in return give him a hug. This was the moment that my mind changed about Michael the first time around. This is the moment where I saw a side different of him, and when I decided to get to know him better. Finally, a rush of chills course through my body and then it settles down again. I take a deep breath and slow my breathing.

  "That was a cute little kid," Michael says, walking over to me with his hands casually in his dress pants pockets. I nod, though I'm feeling a bit tired from that recollection. Sometimes these occurrences make me feel physically exhausted.

  "Yeah, he is just a little younger than Olivia," I reply, smiling when recalling her sweet face.

  "How old is she, your daughter?" he inquires. It now occurs to me that Michael doesn't know much about her at this time. It's not as if I parade her around the office, or get the chance to talk about her much.

  The booth traffic has almost come to a halt, so we spend the next forty five minutes talking about me and my life, my child, and what my husband does for a living. He tells me about his family back home, his plans for college graduation and what he wants to do afterwards. As he speaks, hints of familiarity hit the pit of my stomach in a rush, then ease up before another one comes. It's almost like waves in the tide moving out, before pushing on shore again.

  A slight sadness fills my heart when he mentions how he wants to travel more, and maybe find a job in another European country. But he's supposed to be with me. This young man whom I'm so in love with, and almost certain I really had a life with at some time-still has no knowledge of that life or of the love we shared.

  "Are you OK?" he suddenly asks with concern. I realize I've drifted off in thought and now tears are pooling in my eyes. I'm immediately embarrassed.

  "Here," he says as he hands me a napkin left over from our lunch.

  I quickly take it and blot my face. "The air conditioning in the halls make my eyes water," I explain. Once again my body has failed me. I can only come up with so many excuses about my random tears.

  The show organizer announces that the hall is about to close. I'm grateful for the interruption and the excuse to move away from Michael and shut down the booth.

  "See you in an hour?" Michael asks, as he prepares to head back to his room.

  "Yep!" I say sounding overly cheerful.

  I make my way up to my room as quickly as possible. I can hardly breathe or speak. I'm feeling so emotional that I'm unable to see straight from the tears that are rapidly filling my eyes. My room key acts up as I try to unlock the door. I begin cursing at it just as Stacy opens the door from the other side.

  "Hey you!" she says, chipper. When she sees me, her facial expression quickly changes. She can tell I'm out of sorts.

  "What's wrong?" she asks, putting her arm around me as I enter our room. I slump on the side of my bed and fight back tears.

  "Oh, it's nothing. I'm just so tired," I lie.

  "These shows can take a lot out of a person," she says, comforting me.

  "Why don't you go take a quick shower and get ready? It will help," she suggests gently.

  I turn on the hot water and step into the hotel shower, which smells of bleach and cheap shampoo. I run my face under the water and wash my hair. And I cry. I'm miserable because Michael doesn't know who I am or what I was to him in another life. I'm beginning to wonder if we actually ever had the bond that pulls two people together. Maybe it was all one-sided. Could that be why he doesn't naturally gravitate towards me? Did I always love him more than he ever loved me?

  CHAPTER 48

  I fake a happier version of myself through our staff dinner. To avoid my emotions acting up again, I make sure to sit as far away from Michael as possible. After dinner, we begin setting up the suite for the party, which allows me to keep my distance.

  Stacy hooks her MP3 player up to speakers so we can have some music while we work. She turns on a song by one of my favorite bands. I'm minding my own business and humming to the music, when I hear someone else in the room quietly singing along. I turn around to see Michael in the corner, mouthing the words to the song as he fills up balloons with helium.

  Another flash comes and I stand motionless.

  It's a sunny day. Michael is driving and I'm in the passenger seat. I see green hills in the distance and low-hanging clouds in a big blue sky, but it's still a beautiful day. His hand is on my knee and he's singing along to the same song. I'm in Sweden visiting, and we are enjoying a drive in the country. I'm so happy. We are so happy. He looks over at me and says, "I love you, babe."

  "Where do you want the napkins," Jane asks, interrupting my vision. I feel the warmth leave, as my mind and body release the memory.

  "Uh, on the bar counter and end tables," I say, still recovering.

  She walks away and I take a minute to compose myself without anyone noticing. I look up and instantly meet Michael's eyes from across the room. He smiles at me as he ties a string to a balloon and lets it float to the ceiling.

  I'm immediately grateful for the memory. It's almost like a sign. I realize that the song now playing is one of our songs. We have sung it together a hundred times. And even if he won't tell me he loves me now, at least I can recall hearing those words come from his mouth at one point.

  My mood picks up as the party begins and I head behind the suite bar to help Stacy serve beer and wine. I'm remembering doing this with her on several occasions. It's a chore I always looked forward to at these shows. Everyone loves the person who gives them free booze!

  Michael occasionally heads back to get bottles of beer for the front room and passes them around. The energy is good and we're all having fun. I can tell that he's enjoying entertaining and networking. I have a sense this is something I've seen him do on several occasions.

  The party is loud with a sea of laughter and talking voices. There are too many to actually hone in on and decipher exactly what one conversation is about, but it's going well. This is familiar and I believe that I'm in my element. I'm genuinely happy.

  "Hey, I need to go out there for a bit," Stacy shouts to me over the crowd. "I'll send someone else back."

  I nod at her. Deja vu kicks in for a moment and I know that Michael is about to walk in. We're going to tend bar together. This has happened before.

  The small door into the back of the wet bar opens from the hall and Michael enters on cue. "Hi. Did you miss me?" he jokes while moving next to me behind the bar.

  I give a sarcastic laugh and for a brief moment we lock eyes. I feel a flutter of hope in my heart.

  I smile back. "More than you know," I playfully reply.

  CHAPTER 49

  On the way home from the airport, I am still in the afterglow of my time with Michael. Though I'm happy that I
get to see Olivia, I am equally sad that I won't be able to spend as much time with him. Since I have the rest of the weekend off before I head back to work on Tuesday, I'm trying to focus on spending time with her to avoid missing him.

  It's late when Stacy drops me off at home. I graciously thank her and walk softly with my suitcase up the driveway attempting not to wake Joe and Olivia. When approaching the front door, I notice that lights are still on in the house. I now can hear people talking and music playing from inside.

  "Hello?" I call out, hesitantly opening the door. There's male voices coming from the kitchen and they're laughing loudly. Joe comes around the corner. I can immediately tell he's been drinking.

  "Hey, babe. You're back!" he says, surprised to see me.

  I'm a little confused and annoyed by the small party of his four friends standing in our kitchen drinking this late, especially after I've just gotten home from a long business trip.

  "Yeah, I am. What's going on here?" I say, trying to conceal my irritation.

  "Oh, we're just hanging out. I sent Olivia to my parents' for the night, so the guys came over and we've had a few," he says, grinning. "You want a beer?" he offers, handing me his before I reply.

  He then heads back to the kitchen and I hear a bottle cap drop to the floor. His work friend Jason peeks around the corner at me. "Hey, Jen!" he says, and gives a quick wave before returning to the conversation he was having.

  I drop my bag and purse on the floor and survey the condition of my house. Pizza boxes, empty beer bottles and dirty work boots adorn my living room. Couch pillows are strewn about and Olivia's toys are still out.

  I can feel my irritation growing, and heat begins to rise in my face. I'm exhausted, mentally and physically. My child, who I've missed terribly, is not here for me to tuck in. I head back to our bedroom, only to encounter ruffled sheets and towels on the floor. The house is in shambles.

  I want to yell, but I don't in order to avoid an embarrassing scene. I'm now feeling a sense of disappointment towards Joe that I haven't felt since we were married the first time around. I'm both offended and saddened that he wouldn't think about my needs after I've been gone all week-that he would think I would want to come home to this. I don't believe Michael would ever do that to me.

  I angrily throw the towels in the hamper and make the bed, cursing the entire time. The bedroom door opens, interrupting my mini tantrum.

  "Whatcha doin, babe?" Joe asks, beer in hand.

  While turning around to face him, I hold my tongue for a moment and wonder if he'll even absorb what I'm about to say.

  "Well, babe," I begin, caustically. "I just got home from a long work trip to find a group of guys drinking in my kitchen past midnight, stuff all over the house and my child gone."

  Joe looks at me like I'm ridiculous. "So? We're just having a few drinks and then they're leaving. You don't have to get up early tomorrow anyway?..I do though," he says, before taking another swig of beer.

  "That doesn't mean that I wouldn't like to come home to a clean house, see my family and go to bed in peace!" I retort, my voice rising. "And what do you mean you're getting up early tomorrow?" I ask, referring to his hanging comment.

  "I'm going hiking with Ray," he casually replies.

  Here we go. It's happening again. It's taken almost a year, but I'm seeing it come to fruition. This is the Joe I remember. This is why I couldn't stay with him. He came first in his world. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. In his mind, as long as he worked hard and brought home a paycheck he should be able to come and go as he pleased. He didn't cheat, he didn't lie, but he didn't consider Olivia or me in most of his plans either. I'm almost certain that Michael and I always ran our plans by each other. We communicated and were thoughtful of each other.

  I take a deep breath. "You know Joe, most of the time you're a good guy, but sometimes you're a real asshole," I flatly state. He doesn't respond, but instead blinks as if he's processing what I've just said.

  "Are any of the guys out there sober?" I ask.

  "Why?" he asks, in a cockier tone.

  I remain calm. "Because you might want to go home with one of them tonight, sober up, go hiking tomorrow and maybe we can talk when you get back," I reply.

  He continues to stare straight at me. He then walks over to the dresser, puts his beer on top of it and stands for a minute with his hands on his hips, head down, thinking.

  I wait. I'm not going to push him, I can be patient. He still doesn't say anything. Instead, he opens a drawer, grabs some clothing and leaves the room. After he exits, I feel a pang of disappointment before my body relaxes a little. I know how this story goes. Even if I can't remember the details of my future with Michael, I remember the past with Joe so clearly.

  He always leaves. He would rather walk away then try to find the words to express himself and fix things. Though it's a way to avoid a big fight, it's also the best way to build up resentment. And that's what ultimately made me leave him before.

  I hear the voices quiet down from the front of the house. A few minutes later the front door opens and closes and then an engine starts outside. I hear a truck shift gears before driving away into the distance. I wait in the bedroom a few more minutes, listening for any sign of life in the house. It's silent.

  I open the door and make my way back to the living room. The pizza boxes have been removed and there are no beer bottles in the kitchen, but Joe's gone. The cleanup is a small gesture on his part, but not enough to solve the problem.

  I sit down on the couch, hearing only the ticking of the clock. It's now half past midnight. Joe is gone, Olivia is gone and for the first time I'm alone for a night in a house that I don't remember moving into. I look around the room and wonder why I wanted to live here. I feel no draw or connection to this place. There's nothing that represents who I really am inside.

  This is not my home.

  CHAPTER 50

  Saying Goodbye

  It's been over two hours since Michael left-maybe for good. I've sent Olivia to my dad's for a while so I can sit and cry without worrying her. The phone is now ringing and I dread answering it, as I'm in no mood to talk. Finally, conceding to its relentless sound, I reach over and grab the receiver.

  "Hello?" I say, trying to sound normal.

  "Hey, it's me," Michael softly replies. I didn't expect him to contact me so soon. In truth, I didn't know if he really ever would. Airport noises in the background tell me he's calling from a payphone.

  "Are you OK?" he asks, sorrowfully.

  "Yeah," I lie, forcing back more tears. For a moment, we remain silent, unsure of what to say next.

  "I want to try this," he says with a sigh.

  "You do?" I ask, stunned by his admission.

  "I think we can do this. I will if you will," he commits. My heart lifts with elation. Quietly I begin to cry.

  "Don't be sad?.please," he says, his voice cracking.

  I collect myself. "I'm not. I am relieved," I explain.

  I have no doubt in my mind about the love we have between us or whether we can make this work. We'll figure it out as we go along. The details aren't important, only the way that we feel about each other is.

  CHAPTER 51

  I wake up at 10:00 a.m. to the house phone ringing. I'm startled out of a dream-memory. Still in the grogginess of heavy sleep, I manage to answer it. Joe's mom is wanting to know when I plan to pick up Olivia. I arrange a time before hanging up, and then reach over to look at my cell phone screen. I still haven't heard from Joe and to my knowledge, he hasn't come home.

  The sun is already shining brightly outside. I feel like the world is going on without me and I missed most of the day by waking up so late. I really don't feel like doing anything at all. Unfortunately I don't have that luxury.

 

  After starting the coffee maker, I make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower and opt to be lazy about my appearance today. I lightly dust on my makeup, put my hair up in a w
et, messy bun and throw on jeans and a sweater. When I go back to the kitchen to get my coffee and breakfast, I notice how sparse the cupboards and fridge are. I instantly get angry with Joe again.

  I pour my coffee into a travel mug, grab my purse and head out to the store. After realizing that I have a couple of hours before picking up Olivia, I decide to postpone grocery shopping and head to the waterfront to take a walk. This isn't something I'd normally do, but I need to breathe and think.

  Downtown is quiet on this Sunday morning. It's chilly, but the sun is out-typical for March. I park and head to the newly-installed fountains. There are big rocks placed around the area for people to sit on and watch their kids play. Today there is no one here.

  With my coffee in hand, I sit down and listen to the hum of semi-trucks crossing over the bridge and the sound of the river flowing through town. Occasionally a car will drive down the narrow street, but mostly I'm alone.