by EJ Valson
Stacy and I are heading down to L.A. ahead of the others to set up the booth. Steve, Michael, Bjorn and two others will be flying in later that evening. From what I remember, it has been a while since I have been at this show. I’m nervous about how to behave around people I don’t know as well now in this present time as I believe I will later on in my “real” life.
The flight is only three hours long. Apparently, I know my way through the L.A. airport extremely well, and this also surprises Stacy, who believes this is the first time I have been here. “Just reading the signs,” I reply, when she asks how I figured out how to get to baggage claim so quickly. Within forty minutes we are on the shuttle and making our way to the hotel.
As I step out of the van and approach the lobby, I am hit with the Deja vu sensation again. I know this place all too well. The sports bar off to the right -- I’m having quick visions of good times there. To my left is the reception desk. I spot a grand piano displayed in the middle of the lobby, surrounded by overstuffed couches and chairs. I get a ping of excitement, as I recollect seeing someone famous play the piano there -- though I can’t recall exactly who it was and I believe Michael was with me. The surge of familiarity rejuvenates me, and I feel encouraged -- as if I’m right where I am supposed to be. After an easy check-in process, Stacy and I make it up to our double room and plop down on our beds.
“I love this weather,” she says. It is a pleasant seventy five degrees and sunny outside.
I get up and take a look out our window, which overlooks the pool area five stories down. My mind instantly flashes to a memory of Michael laughing in the middle of a group of people. Even though he can be hard to read at first, he does like to socialize. He has always been great at networking. I am immediately excited at the thought of being here with him all week. Even if we are sharing separate rooms or separate lives, at least we will be close to each other.
Stacy and I spend three hours setting up the large, island-style booth. She repeatedly comments on my ability to set up like a pro. Little does she know I have probably done this fifty or so times and now it’s “old hat” to me. After we finish setting up, we hit the gym, shower and get ready to go to the lobby bar and wait for everyone else to arrive.
While we sip our drinks, random people from the industry stop by to say hello to Stacy. As familiar people approach, I get waves of information in my head that tell me how I know them, their names and what they do. It’s an odd sensation. It’s like someone is telling me random facts through an earpiece so that I can keep playing along in this game of “which life is it today.”
Now that I’m halfway through my martini I am enjoying the relaxed feeling that is starting to flow through my mind and body. Stacy is chatting it up with a guy who I don’t really care to talk to, because I happen to recall that he is an ass.
In my midst of people watching I do a double take when I see the rest of our crew enter the lobby just outside of the bar entrance. Steve is leading the way towards the reception desk. Michael is wearing a long sleeve pale yellow dress shirt and jeans. I get a flash again of us on a dance floor and holding his hand for what I think might have been the first time. He is oblivious to the fact that I’m fondly watching him, as he looks bored waiting in the check-in line. He is also oblivious to the fact that I am deeply in love with him.
CHAPTER 47
My feet are killing me. Even the padded carpet in the booth isn’t helping. It has been a very busy morning. This is good, as the time goes by fast, but I know I will not get to relax tonight, as we are having a large suite party after dinner to celebrate a new product release.
Stacy has been in and out of meetings all day with Steve, so I have been alone 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. I occasionally glance over to watch him do a demonstration. It is so odd to watch my younger future husband stumbling over his words to explain a product that I am sure he will one day understand better than I do. I find it endearing.
I see a small boy approach the booth. He is looking at the stuffed animal that we give away as part of a drawing after the show. He is signing with his hands to his mother and smiling. I can tell he wants to hold it. Michael approaches and crouches down at his level.
I can’t hear what Michael is saying, but the boy’s mother is translating it into sign for him. I feel the wash come 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 from our past where I saw a side to him I didn’t expect, due to my assumptions about him back then. This was the moment where I decided to give him a chance and get to know him better as a person. I get a rush of chills all over my body, the warm sensation, and then I settle down again.
“That was a cute little kid,” Michael says, walking over to me with his hands casually in his dress pants pockets. I nod. I’m feeling a bit tired from that recollection. Sometimes it makes me feel physically exhausted when I have these occurrences.
“Yeah, he is just a little younger than Olivia,” I reply, smiling as I recall her sweet face.
“How old is she, your daughter?” he inquires. I realize Michael doesn’t know much about her at this time. It’s not as if I parade her around the office, or get a chance to talk about her a lot.
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, what my husband does. He tells me about his family back home, his plans for college graduation and what he wants to do afterwards. As he speaks, I get small waves of memories. Each hint of familiarity hits the pit of my stomach in a rush, then eases up before another one comes.
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 you’re supposed to be with me, I think, as he is telling me his plans. This young man whom I am so in love with, whom I’m almost certain I really had a life with somewhere, at some time -- has no knowledge of that life or of the love between us.
“Are you OK?” he abruptly asks, looking at me with concern. I realize I have drifted off in thought and somehow a tear fell from my eye and is falling down my cheek. 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 these halls make my eyes water,” I explain.
The show organizer announces over the loudspeaker 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 I can. I can’t breathe and I can’t speak. I’m feeling so emotional that I can hardly see straight. My room key acts up as I try to unlock the door, and I’m cursing at it just as Stacy opens the door from inside.
“Hey you!” she says, chipper. I look at her and her facial expression quickly changes. She can tell something is wrong.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, putting her arm around me as I enter our room. I sit on the side of my bed and hold back tears.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just so tired,” I lie.
“These shows can take a lot out of us,” 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 am miserable because Michael doesn’t know who I am or what I was to him in another life. I begin to wonder if we actually ever had the bond that pulls two people together. I wonder if it is all one
-sided. What if I love him more than he loves me? What if that is why he doesn’t long for me too?
CHAPTER 48
I fake happiness through our staff dinner. I make sure to sit as far away from Michael as I can to avoid my emotions acting up again. I’m too busy setting up the suite for the party after dinner to talk with Michael very much. 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 am humming along to the familiar song when I hear someone else in the room quietly singing along too. 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. I freeze.
It’s sunny. Michael is driving. I’m in the passenger seat. I see green hills and low-hanging clouds in a big blue sky, but it’s a beautiful day. His hand is on my knee and he is singing along to this same song. I feel so happy. We are so happy. I’m in Sweden visiting. He turns to me. “I love you, Babe,” he says.
“Where do you want the napkins,” Jane asks, interrupting my vision. I feel calm and warm 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 collect myself. I look up and meet Michael’s eyes across the room. He smiles at me as he ties a string to a balloon.
I’m grateful for that memory. I almost take it as 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 time.
My mood picks up as the party begins and I head behind the suite bar to help Stacy serve beer and wine. I remember doing this with her on several occasions. It is a chore I always look forward to at these shows. Everyone loves a 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 are all having fun. I can tell that he is enjoying entertaining and networking. I have a sense this is something I have 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 is going well. I’m happy. This is familiar and I am in my element.
“Hey, I need to go out there for a bit,” Stacy shouts to me over the crowd. “I will 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 are 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. “Hi. Did you miss me?” he jokes as moves 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
As we make our way home from the airport I am still in the afterglow of my time with Michael on our work trip. I’m happy that I get to see Olivia, but saddened that I won’t be able to spend as much time with him. I have the rest of the weekend off before I head back to work on Tuesday, so I am trying to focus on spending time with her and not missing him.
It’s late when Stacy drops me off at home. I graciously thank her and walk softly up the driveway in an attempt to not wake Joe and Olivia. As I approach the front door, I notice that lights are still on in the house. As I get closer I can hear people talking and music playing inside.
“Hello?” I call out as I enter. I hear male voices coming from the kitchen and they are laughing loudly. Joe comes around the corner. I can tell he has been drinking.
“Hey, Babe. You’re back!” he says, surprised to see me.
I’m a little confused and slightly annoyed by the small party of his four friends standing in our kitchen drinking this late, especially after I have 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, but hands me his before I reply.
He heads back to the kitchen. 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 head. I am exhausted, mentally and physically. My child, who I have missed, 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 feel a sense of disappointment towards Joe that I haven’t felt since we were married. I am both offended and saddened that he wouldn’t think about my needs after I have 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.
“Whatcha doin, Babe?” Joe asks, beer in hand. I turn to face him. I hold my tongue for a moment, wondering if he will even absorb this in his state.
“Well, Babe,” I begin in a caustic tone, “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.”
He looks at me like I’m ridiculous. “So, we are just having a few drinks and then they are leaving. You don’t have to get up early tomorrow anyway. I do though,” he says, taking a swig of beer.
“That doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t like to come home to a clean house and to my family or go to bed in peace!” I retort, my voice rising. “And what do you mean you are getting up early tomorrow?” I ask.
“I’m going hiking with Ray,” he responds.
Here we go. It’s happening again. It took 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. What he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. In his mind, as long as he worked hard and brought home a paycheck he should be able to come and go as he pleases.
He didn’t cheat, he didn’t lie, but he didn’t consider Olivia or me in his plans either. I am almost certain that Michael and I always ran our plans by each other. We communicated. We were thoughtful of each other.
I take a deep breath. “You know Joe, you are a good guy, but sometimes you are a real asshole,” I say with little emotion. He doesn’t respond. “Are any of the guys out there sober?” I ask.
“Why,” he asks, in a cocky tone. I keep 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 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 and calm. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he opens a drawer, grabs some clothing and leaves the room. I feel a pang of disappointment, but my body relaxes a little. I know how this story goes. Even if I can’t remember my future with Michael in detail, I remember my past with Joe.
He always leaves. He would rather walk away then try to find the words to express himself and fix things. Though it is a way to avoid a big fight, it is also the best way to build up resentment. And that is what ultimately made me leave h
im 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 a truck engine starts. I hear the truck shift gears and then get more distant. I wait a few minutes to hear any sign of life in the house. It is quiet.
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 is gone. The cleanup is a small gesture on his part, but not enough to solve the problem.
I sit down on the couch. I hear only the ticking of the clock. It is 12:30 a.m. Joe is gone, Olivia is gone and for the first time I am all 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 to it, nothing that represents who I believe I later become.
