by EJ Valson
I want to thank her for everything she has done for me. For every moment she spent encouraging, supporting and befriending me. I want to tell her that I will forever look back and cherish the time we had together. But if I did this, she would probably think I was dying…or crazy. So I opt to let her pass without acknowledgement.
I sing along while doing my hair and makeup. I’m all abuzz with energy from the time I just got to spend alone with Michael. Within an hour both Stacy and I are ready to go. We do a final check to make sure we have our ID’s, room keys, money and most importantly, lip gloss.
We make our way to the lobby bar to meet Michael and Steve, as planned. They are already half finished with their pints when we arrive. Michael looks up from his barstool and his eyes meet mine. It’s as if we are sharing a secret with a look, and we are.
We walk a half block to the nearby pub. Upon entering, nostalgia immediately washes over me. I haven’t stepped foot in this particular pub in a few years. The dark paneled walls and burgundy carpet are welcoming. Old pictures of England and various artifacts adorn the walls. Well-worn, high back chairs and old wooden tables offer a cozy place to eat and drink.
Steve runs into some acquaintances at the bar, who ask us to join them at their table. We gladly accept and make our way to the back, to a table with large window seat bench that overlooks the garden. I take a seat next to Stacy and Michael quickly claims the spot on my other side.
We order dinner and make small talk with our “tradeshow” friends. Occasionally Michael slips his hand under the table and lightly squeezes my knee. A reminder of his affection for me. Each time he does it, I’m filled with warmth.
Stacy and I enjoy a few too many glasses of wine but clearly we don’t have to censor ourselves, as one of the men at our table likes to say “fuck” a lot, so we are in casual company. After dinner we decide to grab a taxi and head down to the clubs in the city center.
The sidewalk is filled with college-aged youth and brides-to-be enjoying their “girl” parties. I hang back and link arms with Stacy as we follow Michael and Steve down the busy walkway until we reach a pub that has dance music blaring out the door.
Though old in appearance the bar is large and features a real dance floor, which is packed. There is a DJ in the corner and strobe lights are lighting up half the room. We make our way straight to the bar, where the bartender is delighted by our American accents and serves us quickly.
Stacy and I make our way to the dance floor and start dancing. Steve and Michael hang back and drink their beers. The two of us have a way of entertaining ourselves without caring what people think, so we enjoy jumping around to an old eighties pop song with the rest of the crowd.
The fun continues through the evening, and I keep drinking to avoid feeling jetlagged. The drinks flow as we go club-to-club. We aren’t thinking about the next day, when we have to set up for our show. For now, we live in our youth in a time I haven’t lived in for years.
It’s 2:00 a.m. when we decide to call it a night and hit up a pizza cart for a snack on the way back to the hotel. Steve and Stacy are walking ahead, making fun of each other’s dancing, while Michael and I trail behind, and laugh at them imitating each other.
Even though it’s about a twenty minute walk, we don’t mind. The weather is decent and we could use the refreshment of the night air before going to bed. As the night progressed, Michael stopped worrying about what Steve might think and made his way onto the dance floor with me. Even if Steve thought something was going on, he wouldn’t care. He didn’t the first time.
Michael stops briefly at a trash can on the sidewalk to throw his pizza scraps away and wipe off his hands before tossing the napkin in the garbage. A moment later he loosely wraps his arm around me and pulls me in closer, while I juggle the task of walking and eating.
“I had a lot of fun tonight. And a lot of fun earlier today,” he bashfully admits.
“Me too,” I reply with a slight grin.
As we continue walking, I recall the times we have done this before. In my other life I have had the pleasure of coming to England four times, three of them with Michael. The trips were full of long days of exhibiting and business socializing, and longer nights at various pubs and clubs on the main strip. I have hopes for the same type of trip again. Especially, if it happens to be my last.
I look up at that starry night sky over Birmingham. I will steal these last moments with Michael like a greedy thief. I will sink into this experience with abandon. Even if I get back to my future life, I will never get the chance to live this night or this moment again.
CHAPTER 79
The week passes by faster than I prefer. I had forgotten how taxing this particular show can be, with the eight-hour demonstrations, receptions, dinners and the big party we always throw on the last night. The party is fun, but requires us to work harder than usual, as this hotel isn’t able to provide the liquor, snacks or even the ice that we need. This means we have to do the shopping, setup, bartending, hosting and clean up. Something that I both love AND hate.
Tonight we get to dress up though, and I’m looking forward to it. The men are wearing dress slacks, shirts and ties, and Stacy and I have bought party dresses for the occasion. I am taken aback by Stacy as she exits the bathroom in her strapless retro style black shift dress and red pumps.
“Pearls or silver necklace,” she asks me.
I smile at her impeccable sense of class. “Pearls,” I say.
I slip on my black sling back, peep-toe heels with silver piping and quickly put on my black and white polka dot spaghetti strap dress. It hangs just right on my frame. The ruching in the front conceals any bit of tummy I might have, and the sweetheart neckline accentuates my cleavage appropriately. The thin layer of tulle over the dress adds dimension and character. It’s classy, fun and makes me feel feminine.
“I just love that dress on you!” Stacy exclaims. I can only hope to get the same reaction from Michael.
Before we leave, I make a quick call to Joe to check in on Olivia, who should be getting ready to go to daycare. I listen to her tell me how much fun she is having with her dad, and how she made me a present. I fight back tears as I hear her sweet voice. It makes me long for her to stay that age, but at the same time I ache to hear Stella’s voice.
After hanging up, I do one more make-up and hair check, grab my clutch and put on a smile. As we make our way down the old hotel corridor, Stacy chatters on about Lewis and how much she misses him.
When we turn the corner, I almost smack directly into Michael -- who is equally startled. “Whoa! Sorry!” he says, while placing his hand on his chest. “Steve asked that I come and find you guys. The delivery truck just pulled up,” he explains.
“Oh, no problem. I’ll hurry down there,” Stacy says and heads off. This leaves Michael and me alone in the hall. He looks down and takes in what I am wearing.
“You look very nice,” he says, smiling. I know that he genuinely means it. Michael doesn’t try to flatter people. His compliments are sincere.
“So do you,” I reply. He offers me his arm to link with mine so he can escort me. I find this uncharacteristically charming, but I accept.
As we get closer, we part ways and get to work on the party. Stacy and I end up staffing the large tables that we have turned into a bar. Michael takes his place as the “networker” he naturally is and makes his way through the hundred or so people who have shown up for free booze. I get to see him occasionally when he stops by to get guests drinks and make sure I’m OK.
After a couple of hours, we open up the bar for self-serve and go out to join everyone else on the small, makeshift dance floor. Michael and I float around the room, making small talk with our guests. Occasionally we touch base and sneak around a corner to steal a kiss, and then return to our separate duties. It’s like a well-rehearsed dance, one that we still do in our future life when we are at parties or events. Will we ever do this dance again?
By midnight, most every
one but a few stragglers have left the party. We clean up as fast as possible and head back to our rooms. Stacy is exhausted and hurrying ahead to our room. Steve has already gone to bed and Michael and I slowly shuffle down the hall, drained from an unforgettable and wonderful week.
I have resigned to walking barefoot, as my feet can’t handle high heels after standing all day. Michael keeps his pace with mine. He walks so close to me we could trip over each other at any misstep.
“You tired?” he asks in a hushed tone. I am, but I don’t want that to stop me from spending the night with him. The last night with him.
“Not enough to sleep,” I answer flirtatiously. “I’ll be back soon,” I tell him as I leave him by his door. I follow Stacy, who has already flopped in her bed, still dressed, but barefoot.
“Goodnight,” she says, yawning. Moments later I hear her breathing deeply.
I grab my toothbrush, a change of clothes and my phone, then slip out of the room just as I have each night before. My heart is racing as I quietly make my way back to Michael’s room. I lightly tap on the door with my knuckle and seconds later it opens.
“Hi,” he says, then immediately proceeds to pull me in and kiss me before the door is even closed.
I take it all in and embrace the moment. I let go of my fears, reservations and everything that has ever stopped me from being in the moment with Michael in all the years we have been together. This could be it. This could be the last night that I ever get with him and I’m not going to waste it on fear or any other ridiculous thoughts that could take this moment away from me. Tonight I am jumping in and swimming in it.
CHAPTER 80
I hear rain tapping on the window. It is early, but I can’t tell what time. I try to turn over, but I am tangled in the sheets and entangled with Michael’s body. I manage to sit up enough to see the clock on the bedside table. It’s only 6:30 a.m. We have three hours until we have to get up and get ready to leave.
I rest my head back on his chest and listen to his heart beating. I get lost in the rhythm of his deep, restful breathing. I wonder if he is dreaming, and if so, what he is dreaming about.
I couldn’t sleep as well as I had hoped. Even after a wonderful night at the party and spending the night with Michael, I’m restless with worry. All I can do is stare above at the grayish-white ceiling and mentally search for answers on what to do next.
Images from the previous night flash through my head. The gentle way he held me. The way he took his time to kiss me softly. Nothing was rushed, but nothing was left unsaid between us physically.
Within twenty-four hours I will be back in the States. I will prepare to face what could be the end of my life, or a dim continuation of another. Fear consumes me while hope battles with it to lift me up, but I’m not sure which one will win.
I feel Michael’s hand brush the side of my face as he turns towards me. “You’re awake early,” he whispers.
“Can’t sleep,” I respond, careful not to expose my anguish.
He pulls me into him and I fold instinctively. “What’s wrong?” he asks, giving me a soft peck on the neck. I shrug. I can’t speak.
He reaches over my body and nudges me to indicate he wants me to turn over and face him. I know there are things that must be said. I know this is the last chance I may get to tell him everything I feel but I have to be cautious in my approach. I worry that I will scare him.
I look into his eyes. My husband’s eyes. He looks at me as if I am new to him, but his are the eyes that I used to see every day. The same ones that lock with mine briefly when we kiss hello, goodbye or goodnight. And today may be the last time I ever look into them. I close my eyes and fight back the tears that are sure to come. I’m grateful for the lack of light in the room so he cannot see that I am emotional.
I place my hand on the side of his face. “I need you to listen, OK?” I whisper. He furrows his brow. He appears to be confused, but he remains still -- with his eyes locked on mine. I think back to the first time I met him in my real life. I recall how easy it was to be around him, even though I wasn’t interested in pursuing any type of relationship. Within the first few moments that we met, we were naturally comfortable with each other. I just didn’t want to give him a chance. I smile a bit when I think back to how my feelings changed so drastically.
“When you came into my life, you were everything I didn’t expect, and you became everything I ever wanted. You were every dream I ever had, every prayer answered. You saved me,” I say, pausing to fight back tears.
“Hey…” he interrupts.
“Wait...let me finish. I don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow, or the next day or any day, for that matter. And this may not make sense to you, but I just need to say these things in case I don’t get a chance to later.”
He reluctantly nods in compliance and lets me continue. “I want you to know that there is no one else in this world that I will EVER feel for in the way I feel about you. I know this seems really sudden considering how long we have known each other, but you need to know this,” I explain.
He looks at me in silence. I can see his younger mind trying to process my words. It is a large proclamation on my part, and I imagine it frightens him in some way. But if I don’t make my way back and I drift away, he will at least know how I feel.
“In every part of my soul, I know that we are supposed to be together. I know that we were supposed to find each other, and I believe that I was put on this earth specifically for you…and you for me. We were born separated, by age, time and distance, but managed to find each other anyway. That is miraculous to me.” I swallow hard to choke back my tears.
My jaw aches with tension, but I force myself to continue. “No matter what happens, no matter where we end up, I just want you to know, Michael, that I love you. And I can’t ever thank you enough for every gift you ever gave me by being a part of my life.”
I think of Stella in that moment. I think of how he has been a good step-father to Olivia. I remember all the sacrifices he made to be with me. The life he started with me, and how I selfishly took it for granted. I take a deep breath and exhale completely. There is nothing more to be said and I meant every bit of what I told him.
Michael remains quiet, but still facing me. I am beginning to feel self-conscious at his lack of response. I worry that he regrets the time he has spent with me. I am scared that he thinks I’m crazy or jumping in too soon. Instead he pulls me in close and hugs me tightly. I’m taken aback by his gesture, as I awkwardly hang on to him, almost suffocating in his hold.
“I have to tell you something,” he says, with his head buried in my neck. I pull away in hopes of him revealing his feelings for me. He is looking down, searching for the right words. He swallows hard and takes a breath. “I’m moving,” he states nervously.
“What?” I ask, confused and disappointed.
“I was offered a job. It’s in New Zealand, and I start next month,” he answers.
My heart sinks, it breaks, it burns. I can feel blood rushing to my head and away from my body. If I weren’t already lying down, I would probably faint. He can tell I’m in shock.
“Jen, you have to understand, I didn’t think we would get so serious so fast. I didn’t think I would get a job offer, but I have a friend who just moved there and he helped me get the position,” he explains. “I would be stupid to pass it up.”
Though moving for a job isn’t the worst thing he could have told me, the fact that he has taken his life in a different direction from what he did in his life before makes me doubt that we would have ended up together at all. What changed?
I nod in agreement. He would be a fool to not take this opportunity. He just turned twenty-three years old. His whole life is ahead of him, and now I know it’s a life that most likely wouldn’t include me after all. Even though I’m a little heartbroken at the realization that our fate would have been different, I am even more certain that deciding to try and go back is absolutely crucial. “You wou
ld,” I say.
He takes my hand and I can see the pleading in his eyes. “Please don’t be upset with me. Please don’t stop speaking with me. I love you too, Jen. I still want you to be a part of my life,” he assures me, as he takes my hand.
His life. He has no idea what his life actually was almost a year ago. There have been so many moments where the distance between Michael and me has been physically vast during our relationship. Yet now, in this moment, it is painfully obvious that even though we still managed to find each other again and proclaim that we have feelings for each other, we aren’t just hours and miles away from each other anymore. We are literally an entire realm away. That gap must be closed.
I place my hand on the side of his cheek and lean in to kiss him gently on his forehead. “I’m always going to be a part of your life.”
CHAPTER 81
