The Nostalgia Effect

by EJ Valson

  I look back to check that Olivia is still safely sleeping. Bjorn walks over to me and gives me a big hug. "Thank you for everything, Jennifer. I had such a good time, and if you ever come to Sweden, we shall have a beer!" he says cheerfully, before getting on the bus.

  Michael hesitantly steps towards me. He's pressing his lips together firmly. Tears are beginning to fill my eyes. Michael sees this and pulls me close. "Don't cry," he whispers. I fight hard to hold them back. Once I let them go, I won't be able to stop.

  "We will always be in touch," he says. I nod, with my head buried in his shoulder.

  The shuttle driver lets out a honk, indicating it's time to go. I slowly pull away from Michael and look at him. "I'll miss you," I manage to say, before choking back tears.

  He nods and leans in to kiss my forehead. "Here," he says, handing me a folded square of paper. "Wait until I'm gone to read it," his voice strains.

  "I will," I sadly comply.

  He quickly reaches out for one last embrace, before hurrying on to the bus. I stand frozen in place and watch as he takes his seat. The shuttle pulls out of the parking lot and I follow it with my eyes as it moves down the road until I can no longer see it.

  I dash back to the car and quietly get in, careful not to wake Olivia. My fingers scramble to unfold the paper, anxious to see what he wrote. I take a deep breath and prepare to read his words.

  "Jen,

  When you read this I will probably not be around anymore. We have talked a lot these last few weeks and I feel that we really did connect on a different level. One higher than most people are fortunate enough to experience. If your eyes tear, wipe them away and smile. I will be thinking of you.

  Good friends are hard to come by and soul mates are like finding a needle in a haystack. But I was lucky enough to find you. We were meant to meet, but I don't know for what purpose yet. We will find out in time. Time always tells. And this won't be the last time we meet.

  Keep being the wonderful mother that you are. Olivia will see how lucky she is in time, maybe she already has.

  I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart-as a matter of fact, from the bottom of ME-for being my friend. You have changed me into someone better, someone more human.?Love, huh? Weird it is, yet we all want it. Thank you for your love. I love you back, madly. I've known you for three months and I leave you these pages of "I Love You," my kindred spirit.

  If you ever need anything at any time, I will be there for you. I will try my best to help you. We will always be in touch. Goodbye, my Jenni. Much love, many hugs, you are the best.

  Your soul mate forever,

  Michael"

  CHAPTER 70

  The night crawls by like molasses. I'm restless, but emotionally exhausted. After quietly crying in the car all the way home, I manage to pull it together to avoid worrying Olivia, who slept through the ordeal.

  After feeding her dinner, bathing her and putting her to bed, I sit quietly in the living room and try to release all of the tension and fear by telling myself it's all going to be OK. Stacy sent me a text message earlier asking how I was, but I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I simply wrote back, "Fine," and left it at that. I'm almost crawling out of my skin with the feeling of helplessness. He was just here?.and now he's gone. Tomorrow I'll go to work, and the desk he normally sits at will be empty. The space that he once filled will be a void. I will be a void.

  All of these emotions are almost making me physically ill, partly because they're uncomfortably familiar. It's like hearing a song you're sure that you know, but not remembering the words. I'm feeling frustrated by the desire to sing along, but afraid of singing the wrong lyrics.

  I'm still lying wide awake in bed after midnight, when my phone begins buzzing and lights up on the nightstand. I quickly grab it to avoid waking Olivia, who begged to sleep with me tonight. I didn't mind, since I was feeling lonely. I'm elated when seeing there's a message from Michael.

  "Layover in Chicago. I hope you're OK."

  I feel a rush of adrenaline race through my fingers as I try to reply. "I miss you already," I type.

  A few minutes pass until my phone buzzes with another text. "Me too. Did you find the gift I left you in your bag?" he writes.

  I'm confused by his question. The only thing he gave me was the note at the shuttle stop. I lean over to my duffle bag that remains on the floor unpacked. Using my cellphone to illuminate the inside of the bag, I dig through dirty clothes and toiletries. There's nothing in the main compartment, so I check the side pocket.

  My hands are hurriedly fumbling at the pocket when I feel something hard inside. It's cold, thin and sleek. I pull it out and realize it's his MP3 player. I power it on and scroll through the menu's, excited to have all of this music at my fingertips-most of it music that we both like. I come across the playlists. "For Jenni," one reads.

  My phone buzzes again. "Hello?.?" reads his text. I realize he's probably wondered why I haven't yet responded.

  "Sorry, I just found it. Thank you!" I write back quickly.

  A minute later my phone buzzes again. "Look at the back," he writes.

  I turn it over and see there is an inscription in the metal piece, but it is in Swedish. "?det leder den villige och sl?par den motvillige." I can't even pronounce half of the words in the engraving, let alone understand them.

  "What does it mean?" I write back.

  Another text pops up. "Fate leads the willing and drags the unwilling."

  CHAPTER 71

  The following week moves at a snail's pace. I'm doing my best not to appear depressed or agitated, but it's been challenging. On Wednesday night I leave Joe at the house to have his dinner date with Olivia and I head to Astrid's. I need her guidance on what to do next.

  For the first half an hour we talk about Michael leaving. She tells me the images she saw of him going. She is spot on. When she asks about him proclaiming something to me, I hand her the letter.

  When she's finished reading, she looks at me sadly and a tear runs down her cheek. "I have read a lot of love stories in my time, but never one so real. I'm very sorry that he's gone," she says sympathetically.

  She then reaches down beside her foot and grabs a roll of yarn from a basket and begins to knit. "Sorry," she says. "I do this when I need to calm myself down. I can't fix anything for you right now and that frustrates me," she explains.

  "I know," I say. I reach over and gently touch the soft, purple yarn. "What are you making?" I ask.

  "Oh, just a scarf. I make booties and hats, too. Let me show you," she says, getting up off the couch.

  I follow her to her spare room, which is full of boxes of books and a desk with more yarn and knitting tools piled on top of it. She reaches into a box and starts pulling out bundles of finished scarves and hats.

  I laugh. "Wow, Astrid, there are tons of things here."

  "I made all of this since I met you. I actually hadn't knitted in years until you came along," she says chuckling. I look at her, surprised.

  "Well, you have been a bit of a frustrating client," she jokes.

  I understand what she means. She hasn't been able to offer me any solutions. Her nature is to help people, to guide them. And without being able to clearly see much about me, she's felt agitated and useless. Apparently very much so, according to the twenty plus scarves and dozens of hats.

  "I'm sorry," I say with remorse.

  "How is this your fault, dear? It's not like you did this. You are going through this. I'm just the lousy psychic," she says, making fun of herself. We both laugh. I again feel safe, sheltered and understood.

  Her phone rings, startling us out of our pity party. "It's John!" Astrid exclaims and runs from the room. I quickly follow her into the kitchen, where she picks up the phone.

  "Hi, John," she says urgently. She listens, and looks at me in a way that confirms it's him. My heart begins pounding quickly. Every call from him matters. Every bit of news is an offering of hope and a possible
answer.

  "OK. Uh, huh. OK?.and where is this?" she asks him. I remain still, while trying to listen in on what he's saying, but my heart's thumping so loudly that I can hear nothing else but my pulse.

  "OK, sounds good. Talk to you then," she says, hanging up. I stare at her, eager to hear the details. Astrid stares at the ground for a moment, saying nothing about the conversation. Suddenly her eyes meet mine and the stoic expression on her face melts away and is replaced with a look of optimism.

  "John's coming back next month?.and he thinks he has the answer."

  CHAPTER 72

  The weekend finally approaches and it's my turn to take Olivia. I'm grateful for this, as we'll be able to relax and I won't be under any pressure to put on a happy face for anyone. I've received one email from Michael since his return to Sweden. He wanted to thank me again for spending time with him and assure me that he wants to stay in touch.

  Sadly, these are not the words I want to hear. I want him to say that he wants to be with me, that he wants to come back. I want to hear more of what he wrote in his letter. Every bone in my body resists the current situation. It feels unnatural and I'm restless as a result.

  On Saturday afternoon I decide to take Olivia to the movies. I figure a couple hours of confining myself in a room with entertainment, where I have to shut off my cell phone and have no access to internet, is a good thing and the best way to avoid feeling disappointed from his lack of contact.

  When the movie is over, we pick up dinner to eat at home. Olivia is the perfect distraction from my blue mood. She is smiley and happy and showering me with affection, which is difficult not to relish in.

  After dinner Olivia wants to play outside. When she brings out the big pink ball that Michael gave her, my heart sinks, but I shake it off. The sun is setting in the west, so I know it is preparing to rise in the east?.where Michael is.

  I imagine him asleep somewhere-dreaming, unaware of me and my sadness over his absence. I see him, eyes closed, shirt off, sleeping on his stomach, his strong arms peeking out from beneath the sheets. Light freckles gracing the tops of his shoulders. Morning light sweeping across his face. I wonder what he will do when he wakes up. Where he will go, who he will be with. Will he think of me?

  Olivia kicks the ball back and forth with me while I'm distracted by my thoughts. She doesn't seem to notice. After a half an hour, I take her in and bathe her. At 8:00 p.m. she passes out on the couch while watching cartoons. I carefully carry her to her room and tuck her into bed.

 

  The house is quiet, the night is still. I take a blanket from the couch and sit outside to watch the sun fade away. I find it strange how fast life goes by. How a moment is literally a flash in time. It was only one week ago that I was with Michael. We were enjoying ourselves on a night just like this one. Having our first kiss. And tonight he feels farther away than ever before.

  When stars start to appear in the night sky I decide to head inside and get ready for an early bedtime. What's the point of staying up and exhausting myself further with this mental and emotional anguish anyway?

  After locking up the house, I quietly make my way to the bathroom. I hear a soft clicking sound and realize I've left my laptop on, so I head over to the table to shut it off. The screen has gone to sleep after being dormant for so many hours. I hit the spacebar to awaken it.

  I'm surprised when I see a flashing window minimized on the taskbar. I open my instant messenger program and almost yell with excitement. Michael wrote me a message sometime while we were away at the movies.

  "Hey? You there?" he wrote. Then about ten minutes pass until the next message. "Well, you must be gone. I just wanted to say hello. Maybe we can talk tomorrow. Bye".

  I deflate. I can't believe I missed this message. WHY??? I'm frustrated with myself for not checking this earlier. But by the time we got home, it would have been 2:00 a.m. his time anyway. I decide I better write back so he knows I received his message.

  "Hi there. I'm so sorry I missed this. I was at the movies and didn't check my computer until now. I'll be around tomorrow. Maybe we can talk then?bye," I write.

  I sigh and prepare to shut the computer down when I hear the incoming message chime. Michael has responded. "Wait!" he writes.

  I quickly grab the laptop and move to the couch so I can sit and talk to him. "Hi! I'm here!" I write back, then wait to see the messenger indicate that he's typing.

  "Hello! What are you up to?" he asks.

  "I was going to bed, but I think I can stay up for a bit," I reply.

  For the next two hours we talk over instant messenger. I sit, smiling, with my tired eyes burning, but unwilling to sleep. He explains that he still hasn't turned his hours around and isn't sleeping well and that's why he was up so early. We talk about him arriving back home and how nice it was to see his friends and family. He asks me how work is, how Olivia is doing, and most importantly, when we will see each other again. I pray it will be soon, but logistically, I can't see how.

  Even though we're not in the same town, time zone or continent, I'll take what I can get. He is still here in his own way. Reaching out to me, wanting to spend time with me. I'm hopeful this is a sign that something more will come from this.

  CHAPTER 73

  June comes quickly and work has been busy with preparations for an important tradeshow in England. I'm a little sad because everyone from Marketing is going but me. Instead, I'll be left alone in a quiet office, constantly reminded of what's missing in my life.

  On the bright side, Michael and I have been chatting about three times a week, and I'm sure he can preoccupy me. Occasionally he will message me while I'm at work, but with the time difference, and him having to finish school and starting a new summer job, it's been hard to talk. Though we don't get too deep into emotional discussions, we tease each other about what we would do if we were able to hang out together.

  He tells me about places he would take me in the city where he lives and the friends he would introduce me to. He talks about Seattle and how he wishes we had more time there. He promises that if he comes back, we'll go there again. Right now all this talk is wishful thinking, but I'm hopeful it will fruition into reality.

  Joe and I have finally gotten into a rhythm with Olivia and her schedule. We're getting along well and I see a bounce in his step when we cross paths. I assume it has to do with a new found love interest, but I don't pry, even though the curiosity is killing me to know if it's that Sara girl.

  Astrid heard from John, who is preparing for his journey home, which could take some time. I don't know the details, but his travels involve a bus, a train and then a short flight back to Washington. He's also revealed that he's bringing back some supplies and doing his best not to get held up in Customs. This peaks my curiosity, but is the least of my worries right now.

  For now the biggest weight upon my shoulders is the time that I feel I'm losing and the progress that isn't being made. Every day I pray that Michael will not forget me. That he will not decide I'm a lost cause and a path not worth travelling.

  The odds of a guy his age, with his whole future and world of opportunity at his feet, leaving all of that to come to this small town and be with a divorced single mom are pretty unlikely. Though I have to remind myself, he did take the chance before-didn't he?

  I worry that the outcome won't be the same. I'm certain that before he left in my other life we actually solidified our relationship and decided to try the long distance thing. But this time, he left without us deciding on anything. How will I bridge the gap before he gets bored and puts me in the "friend" zone?

  In the meantime, I cherish the moments I have with him through our instant message chats. When we're not chatting I occupy my time with Olivia and Stacy. That is, when she isn't busy smooching all over Lewis. They're practically living together now and it's been hard to get any friend time with her. But she's happy and I'm happy for her.

  On Friday afternoon, Steve comes out of his office aft
er having a closed door meeting with Roger and Jane. He looks stressed and heads immediately to the Operations department. Seconds later I hear a door close from down the hall. Uh, oh.

  Jane and Roger walk back to their desks and quietly sit down, not saying a word. From the awkward glances they give each other, I take it the meeting went sour. I open my instant messenger and message Stacy, who is in her office.

  "Hey, did you see that?" I ask.

  "Yeah. I could hear their voices and the tone sounded negative," she types.

  A few minutes later Steve walks back into the office and tells Jane and Roger they can go to Human Resources if their letters are ready. They quickly get out of their seats, grab pieces of paper from their desk printers and leave the area.

  I sit in shock over what's taking place. All I can gather is there's been some sort of discrepancy or issue and they are in trouble.