II. The Interaction – the Journey
The feeling of discomfort and happiness battles for glory. The sadness in the air caresses the soft melody of important memories coming back to my resolve. I have never felt this way before, never too satisfied. But why? Why is she showing me this? Will Manhattan be ever joyous? Will Boston give a leeway for my never-ending journey? How will I ever deal with this? Questions that should have been asked a long time ago; questions that could have saved me from being banished to the world of failed commitment. Be my guide, My Savior.
I feel her heart’s beat, one after another, each beat telling me something I wanna hear. This has been felt so long, so much more than I could had just imagined out of fake disorder. Oh yes, I wanna talk to her, ask her mother about her, her name was Lisa, a name that resounds the beautiful name of my love. She sobbed, but managed to laugh, I can feel her tears running through my chest as it drew a wet silhouette on my shirt. It was warm, it has meaning, I was dying to ask her why and what, but what could I do? The moment was priceless; the same feeling she gave me. My essence was brought offshore, glaring like a diamond on a Sunday afternoon. She wiped her tears, got back to her feet, and looked at me:
“…Now, she will be free…”
The words hit me like a thunder. It’s starting to make sense. It made me feel that I am an important person in this house. It made me happy. Somehow. But there was so much more that I could show and do. It’s bringing it back:
“…sorry, this has been a mistake…. I can’t…. too much…”
Why would she say this? Is this a mere, shallow infatuation rooted from disbelief and discomfort? Darkness tried to bring back that feeling that I don’t ever wanna feel. The need of hearing it straight from her draws in more closely. I am dying to find out the truth.
Moments later, she offered me a seat, asked me if I wanted anything. I wanted to talk to your daughter. I told her I am fine. She sat right across the room from me, wiped out her discomfort, forced a smile, and looked at me in the eye. That look is so familiar; this feeling IS so familiar. She looked away, trying to find the words to finally speak up. She brought her look back to me, her mouth starts to utter some words.
“John… ah…uhm… how are you? How’s it been?”
A nice introduction and she really does sound like her, the feeling of making awkward moments to a joyous one. It is so like her.
“I am fine Lisa. How about you?”
“Well… everything is fine. Somehow I was able to manage.”
I forced a smile, was a bit surprised. Seems to me, everything is backwards now.
“Why? …Why oh why… is something wrong?...” ofcourse there is something wrong…
“You see, we have tried to fill this house with everything: things, feelings, mixed emotions; anything possible to make it easy for her. I know what has been going on between you and my daughter. Everything was very okay when you came into her life. But after what happened, which I believe was the biggest phase of her life, everything that we worked for, everything WE HOPED for, it all changed back to what were the worst days of our life. You, John, have helped us so much with her; you made things easier for us all. And most importantly, you made our daughter happy. We could not picture any sadness in her face when you were around. I really hope I can tell you everything. But it’s much better if you two talk. I am really trying my best to help her out, and I lover her so much that I could not stand any day that she draws near to giving up… I missed you John, as much as I miss my daughter who was happy, contented and strong; never wasting any day…”
That was the longest conversation she had with me; it was somehow unbearable. I saw light on her face, as it seems. I feel happy about it. But when she told me that we need to talk, it was then I felt my knees tremble. My heart pounded again, and I know she noticed. Lisa was able to understand this part, and she was able to comfort me with words of contentment. She made it easy for me. It was a long, long ride after all going here. Melancholic drive to success, illogical explanation of the means, concepts and theorems run through my mind, but what for? Unexplainable fear mixed with excited feeling of knowing the truth. Could this be everything that I ever thought of? Could this be the right moment? I stepped back. Cowardly. I figured that maybe this isn’t the right time for me to know everything. It could be fatal. Unbearable situations have already bled the life out of me. I felt like a walking dead. But if this is not the right time, when will it ever be? Will I be like those fools who only wait for the right moment not knowing the wrong one? Am I comparing an elephant to a car? Am I trying to mix illusion and reality? I paused. Breathed. Looked up to Lisa and gained strength to face everything with courage and determination. Confusing but doable. The lack of self control seems unending. But maybe that is why they call it love: if you can’t explain it, you will never know what’s ahead of you; the leap of faith.
“I guess I owe you an apology, Lisa. I am actually here to fix everything. I am also here to find out more about the truth, her truth.”
She smiled, and that feeling of happy contentment is on her face again. Invulnerable silence captured my mind and I was at ease. It was at that specific moment that I was determined fully to face truth, as it may hurt and bring me down bad, with everything that I had in my past: to clear everything from the mist of dissolution and make believe. Long conversation. Unexplainable thoughts and ideas. Words that I need to find to make everything right. Actions to fulfill to feel better. Excitement that seems to kill me. Captivating. Mild. Darkness came over me.
Morning came and I opened my eyes. Sunlight struck my eye that it hurt so much. I had a dream, and that dream hurt me more. I finally opened both my mind and my heart together, trying to feel and remember. I couldn’t. I just could not. But what am I trying to remember? Was it yesterday’s conversation? Was it the courage I felt and how I gained it? Or was it the pain? It could be one of them or perhaps, it could be all. I wrapped myself with linen, tried to make sure everything is okay. I keep convincing myself that everything happened for a reason. My mind’s reason just won’t allow that to happen. Maybe I need something to live by to make sure, just to make sure everything is real. Oh yes! Everything is real alright. I am fully awake. I felt pain, I fell and I fell hard. Maybe Sir John Duns Scotus was right about emotions: it’s all surreal and illogical. You may be able to tell how you felt emotions but can never explain it fully. It also supports St. Augustine’s Amicitia ex Amores: Friendship out of Love, but it’s still unexplainable. Emotions are meant not to be fully understood because if it was, then everybody can fool around love; we cannot deceive what we cannot understand. All these thoughts seem to make me strong, somehow. And when I finally convinced myself to face everything head on, I got up from bed. I got to the bathroom, didn’t look at my self at the mirror, fixed everything and got down to the kitchen where Lisa was calling me. We talked the usual conversation. She prepared pancakes and juice for my breakfast. The usual and favorite breakfast we both loved. The meal was great and was very meaningful. I was quite surprised why we had not talked about her. Maybe Lisa was just very cautious about something. Hmmmm. What could that be? It was surreal and accommodating at the same time. When we were finished, I helped her clean up, she got me my coffee and finally talked about something that I should know:
“When you get there, do not make hasty judgments. The situation might affect you, but you gotta atleast try to get to the point where you two wanted to reach…please…”
Her words made me feel discomfort, but in a way that it also made me cautious. One thing that came into my mind was my fault of escaping my problems; the way I hadn’t talked to her. She laid her eyes on me for a couple of minutes as if she’s trying to tell me to hold on and for me not to let go right away. She paused, looked outside and smiled:
“Please, bring back my daughter, my lovely daughter”
“Yes Lisa, I will. As soon as I hear her side and find out how she is, then I will bring her back. I promise...”
As soon as I got off from the table, I packed my things up and started my way to her house. It was a 30-minute drive and during that time I was still struggling for words to say. As I got closer and closer to her house, her mother’s words kept reminding me. It was as bloody as hell thinking what could be seen there. I brushed all thoughts that were running through my mind and was able to make me feel at ease, somehow. But I never let my guard down to what may happen. Then again, I am facing this head on collision. After I made a left from next town from Lisa’s, I found a white house with a blue rooftop. It has 4 windows, a lovely porch and a maple wood door. It was how we exactly pictured our house during those long, night talks when we were together. I got a little fuzzed about it. I parked my car upfront, gathered all the strength that I could get from every point of my body (and mind, probably), got off the car, headed to the door. As I was there, I was looking at the door knob and was thinking: “what could possibly go wrong?”
Knock…knock….knock
My head is spinning, heart pumping so, so fast…
Somebody touches the knob on the other side…
The door opened ajar…
“What could possibly go wrong?”…
A little girl showed up. Smiling. Accommodating. Relaxing…
Sighs…
The little girl somehow resembles her smile; her long, red hair compliments her eyes: Those eyes that stare at you as if it’s bringing you to another dimension or something. It’s a common feeling I can’t simply define. I knew I’ve seen those eyes before, I wasn’t able to tell who and where I’ve experienced this same feeling. Maybe I was just really thinking about how she would react. I was blinded by the fact that something may go wrong after all. She just stood there, looking at me, still, smiling and accommodating me. Another person came after her, panting. It was her nanny, I think. The little girl, was around 3 years old and she talks like 4, A really brilliant kid. I was not surprised and I didn’t know why.
“Hi…”
“Hello…my name is Sasha… what can I do for ‘ya?...”
The accent, the way she talks to people. Really resembles someone... hmmm….
“Ah yeah, is this the house of Reisa Smith...?”
Just mentioning her name made me fell dizzy. Discomfort is beginning to bring me down again. My heart is pumping faster and faster. Breathe in, breathe out... Help!
“Certainly! Lemme just go and call her, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you…”
As the girl closed the door, I heard running footsteps headed upstairs. I looked away and turned my back against the door. I was trying to gather everything to gain strength. My sweaty hands were shaking again, I held the strap of my bag so tight as if I was juicing out an apple (and yes, it’s an apple, not the usual orange). I heard footsteps again, this time, running towards the door. I faced the door again, the door opens, and it’s the girl again. Sighs.
“She said I should let you in. She’s taking care of my cousin. It’s kinda weird but, yeah I should let you in…”
A cute little voice. She had a hard time explaining but she was just brilliant. Really resembles someone.
“Oh! Well, okay.”
And I was inside their house. It was well furnished with a hallway behind the door from outside. To the left was the living room, and at the back of it was their kitchen with a rose, maple wood table with 4 chairs. At the right side was the entertainment and library. When I saw it, the first thing that came into my mind was Reisa. She really loved reading and by the way, she was a psychologist and a writer herself. I stand there in awe. In that same room was a table with a masculine touch. I would assume it was a little office because of all the paper works around it. I followed the little girl and she was headed to the back door. I was at the backyard, and I heard noises: children laughing, people laughing actually, music in the background. It was just how we pictured ourselves 10-15 years while we were still together. It hurts me a lot! As the girl dashed her way through that door, light covered my eye! Another girl who looks exactly the same as Sasha took a picture of me. She laughed and ran back outside and I followed through. As I got outside, the first thing I saw was the playground where Sasha ran to, dragging along with her the girl who looked exactly like her. I looked over to the right, and there she was: those long blonde hair, the body made from heaven, those hands, and when she looked over towards me, the memories came back before I could look at her eye: The park, the cigarettes, her ex-boyfriend, the keyboard, my things at the office, and darkness. Everything was dark and unclear. Suddenly, somebody shook me, and she was right in front of me. Smiling, looking straight at me. I was in awe; I could not believe she was prettier than before! My heaven, my rest, my solitude, my destiny.
Awkward feelings wrap my conscience, blinded by the fact that I was not able to talk to her for so long. The feeling of discomfort and the need to shout as loud as the sirens continue to grow. I was not able to understand everything but still I should, not because I need to but simply because, I want to. This feeling has been in my shell waiting to come out and express all out. Inwardly, it has been a battle: I may have won sometimes, but the war rages on.
“Hi John! It’s so good to see you. How are you?”
Now this is really awkward. How can she smile just like that?
“Oh, hi Reisa, so good to see you. I…I…I’ve been great. Things have been well for me.
This is really awkward now that it was my time to talk to her.
“Come, come have lunch with us. This is really awesome. So nice to finally meet you again!”
There is something wrong. I can’t tell what or why, but there is really something wrong
She offered me a seat to their maple-wood table with 5 people. They seem to be friends coz they are still young, around mid 30’s to 40’s. They were sharing some good old stories, probably, this is a weekend reunion. I am not so familiar with their faces probably from her high school friends. They served barbeques, sausages, ham and a lot of stuff. But what really struck me was the favorite dish we used to cook together: sausage omelet with beans and mozzarella cheese. We made that dish together during those times that we were alone in my place, figuring out things to do to fight boredom. It made me smile. It made me feel I am important. It made me believe, still. It made me feel disappointed. I could’ve done something more and more for her; this could be our time cooking barbeque for the kids and neighbors, friends and relatives too. Oh how I long to turn back time, lest the gods permit me. If only there had been more action that reaction; more thoughts than irrationality; correct me if I am wrong but times like these, it seems thoughts are prerequisites to feelings so regret won’t follow. As my thoughts went on for a bit, we all had our lunch, had little talks about the basketball game last weekend. I was able to join in because I myself is a big fan of the teams across the states. When afternoon reached us, we all ended up fixing the things we all used, gave our goodbyes to Reisa’s friends, and we finally got the chance to talk.
“How’s it been Reisa? It had been so long since we talked again. Well, you were kinda busy earlier so, maybe this time was the right time.”
“Oh John, you know, I’ve been busy, so busy that I’ve diverted everything to actually forget everything. You know?”
Forget everything? What? Why?
“Reisa, listen, I was here for one important reason: I wanna talk to you about the last time…”
She stopped me by hugging me, pulling me in and pressing my body against her so hard. I was surprised; I don’t know how to react. She started sobbing and I can feel her tears run down.
“I am so sorry John. There should have been so much more things I could’ve told you…but I was so afraid, I didn’t know what to do. It was so nice to think that you went all the way down here to see me, but I think this is too much for you to understand, too much for you to handle…”
Too much to understand? Too much to handle?
I tapped her back and hugged her back, embraced her the way I imagined to hug her for not seeing her for so, so long. Tears started to run down my face. And we both stopped for a while, without words to speak, without time to wait, we just held on there and felt the essence of the time being. It was priceless.
And the conversation followed. Surreal. Unbelievable. The words are slowly filled with memories...
“Sorry…. I can’t…… too much…… deny… …. Like any other… …. Goodbye…..”
What could those words mean?.... now
....
the Interaction: epsiode 2 The Journey
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