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One of my latest writings, not sure if I posted it yet. -Bill
UNCOUPLING
The moment has ghosted me for years.
Everything about her does.
This day was gorgeous. The sun buttered over the landscape. Torrid, yet enjoyable. I wallowed off the bus, continuing down the sidewalk towards the University of Arizona Mall, deep in thought, considering several tasks I had to finish that afternoon.
Someone excitedly called my name.
“BILL!”
There she was rolling towards me on a bike. Melting smile. Moving like a dream.
Have you ever had something with somebody, be it a friendship or whatever, when you and this person only have to see each other and you both burst out the biggest cheesiest grins?
That is what I did.
That is what we did.
Then I called her name back to her.
______________
We had this one class together. I wrote this essay about a gorgeous young woman on the bus. Someone I had seen around for about a year, but was always too shy to talk with. She always wore headphones, which made it even more difficult for me to approach.
This girl in my essay was exotic. Sexy. I poured my heart into this essay. Not for the headphone girl. More for the entertainment of the story. The humor in it. I portray myself as a bumbling wannabe Lothario, too shy, sweet and inept to get the girl. (mostly dead on)
It is a story about taking chances.
About going for something you want no matter what.
It is a story that is meant to teach these lessons.
_____________
I think I told her she looked gorgeous. Something like that. I have before. Just a few days before that I told her in class she looked pretty. She got this look on her face. Just for an instant.
I had whispered in her in ear: “I just wanted to tell you, you look really pretty today.”
When she paused and got that look, I for some reason thought she might get mad or something. It was harrowing. She looked amazing. Ineffable. Then she broke out into the biggest smile in the history of the world, which, of course, I am exaggerating, except it was and has been to me.
The instant before that smile is my favorite memory of her. Maybe my favorite moment ever in the whole history of the world. Certainly the most pivotal. Think back. Caesar had nothing on her. Not for that moment. In that moment she shamed the accomplishments of Alexander the Great. She belittled the assassinations of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, Lincoln and JFK.
She was like some great Greek tragedy.
She was like Christ on the Cross.
However this time on the Mall, she was every bit as spectacular. For a longer duration. Sure, nothing beat her in that instant days before, but she certainly was on her game. We talked for a short time. About class. About what we were up to that day.
The words were meaningless.
The smiles were not.
We talked about our writing. My latest column in the paper. Her latest article in the paper. Our latest essays. I remember thinking: “Of all people. I was just thinking about her.”
I may have even told her that.
One problem I have from a few years of running this over in my mind, wondering what I should have done, analyzing what I did say, giving myself props for the good and so on, is that I almost cannot differentiate from what I really said and the do-overs I wish I said.
I think I told her she looked gorgeous. I think I said: “Wow, look at that smile,” I think I said I was thinking about her.
I do not know for sure.
It’s all like a dream to me. A haze. I both remember it fondly and remember it with contempt.
The thing is, we both totally charmed the hell out of each other. She was easy to approach. My normal nervousness was not a problem with her. It became one the last time I saw her, but not usually. She once mentioned my charm in an email, and this was after we long since stopped speaking. This day I was totally on. That short time. Such a seminal event in the history of mankind. Like that one instant, this earth shaking event lasted only a few minutes.
Why?
I said I was in a hurry and had to get going. I was not in all that much of one. My notion was to quit while I was ahead. I mentioned something about getting a haircut, having only one week left to smooth talk her number out of her etc. Joking. Laughing. Blah Blah Blah.
Then I walked away.
She acted like she wanted to stay and talk.
After about fifteen seconds, I thought: “Stop, turn around and go after her. Get coffee. Anything. Just do not let this woman go.”
I looked back.
“Chase after her.”
It was feasible. Possible. Even likely.
I did not do it.
In my mind, I have chased after her a million times. I never let her go. I did not walk away.
A week later she was the one walking away.
I did not stop her.
I have never seen her again.
_____________
No way could I ever describe the anguish this has caused me. I have not even fully recovered to this day. I have not given another woman a fair chance with me. One in particular deserved the fair chance I never gave her. I am selfish in my lamentation. In my loneliness. In my heartache.
It is because I am haunted. Her memory wisps around me all the time. I long to hold what I never held. It eats at me. Not all the time. It has gotten better over the years. Yet sometimes it is there.
I walk by the spot every day. The exact square of concrete where we talked. I stand there. At the crossing where I stopped to look back at her, I relive that moment every single day. Because I am there. I have to be. The moment when I never took that chance. When I kept hurrying to someplace I never needed to be. Quitting when I was not that far ahead.
There I am, wallowing along the sidewalk. Knowing I should turn around. Knowing I should run back the other way, calling her name. Rush up and wrap my arms around her. All the pain in the world would melt away. For once, I will not wait. I will not dream. I will not lament or regret something I never did.
I turn around, glassing the immediate landscape for her.
Everyday she is gone.
Long gone.
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