When Noah met me at the shop after school, I could see his chin dragging on the ground and I knew he was suffering a letdown from Brian departure. I was experiencing my own withdrawal symptoms, but not so anyone would notice, I hoped. For Noah's sake, I tried to act chipper and upbeat, but wasn't able to lift my son' s spirits very much. Noah's conversation kept wandering back to Brian all afternoon and right through dinner while I struggled to change the topic. Noah lamnented that until he had a computer he couldn't keep in touch with Brian by e-mail and would have to resort to plain old letters, handwritten no less. I promised him that handwritten letters were still great and he could even enclose some of his fabulous drawings. This comforted Noah somewhat. Each time thought he Brian topic was exhausted, Noah checked the time, wondering if Brian was back in New York and what he might be doing
"He must have gone straight to his offce," Noah projected. "You know, for his emergency. I agreed with him, then offered a choice of tempting dessert items. Finally the Brian talk seem to die down and I thought Noah was finally coming out of it. Then, as I tucked him into bed, he asked, "Do you think Brian will really send me that surprise, like he promised, Mom?"
"A Surprise? What surprise?" I was coufused.
"You know, when I won the Brain Quest game and Brian said he'd send me a prize when he got back to New York."
"Oh...sure." I recalled the moment now. He had promised, hadn't he? Impulsively, perhap, "Well, I began slowly, "Brian is a very busy person, Noah. Very busy," I repeated. "I'm sure he'll send it it he remembers.. but to tell the truth, I said softly, "he may not get around to it right away, you know?"
"Oh, sure. I know that, Noah nodded. "I's not like I expect him to just run right into a toy store or something as soon as he gets back home. I mean, it may take a while. Like maybe next week I'll get it, right?"
Maybe, I said weakly. "It will come.....soon."
Who was it that once told me soon means sometime during the next year to adults, but to children it means within the next five minutes? I stroked his hair. Gee, I hoped to heaven Brian did remember. If he didn't, my son's heart would really be broken. I knew that, for Noah, it wasn't even the surprise-the actual gift-it was just the acknowledgment that Brian had remembered his promise and really cared..Would he remember, I wondered? Only time would tell.. and it was going to be a heck of a long wait for me, as well. Especially if Noah didn't stop talking about Brian. I thought it was going to be hard enough to try to forget him, but with Noah chattering about the guy nonstop, as if Brian was Some superhero, well...forgetting my elusive, one-time me lover was going to be absolutely impossible.
The first night after Brian left, I cried in my pillow. Long, heart-wrenching sobs. I didn t mean to, but when I got into bed and rolled on my side, I breathed in the faint scent of his cologne and that was my undoing.
The days passed, and Noah spoke of Brian less and less. Perhaps he was coming to terms with the harsh reality of such a sudden intimacy and separation, Brian and Naoh bone easily and now it must be very painful for my son to let go. I thought. Perhaps Noah was coming to see that maybe Brian would not keep his promises. I kept myself busy as a bumblebees, Or tried to. I went to the shop earlier and stayed later, I cleaned out closets and drawers and hidden nooks and crannies that hadn't been cleaned out for years.
At night, after dinner, I worked in my garden weeding and digging until it grew very dark and felt my arms and legs ache. Still, even with all hard work, I would need a hot bath to help me sleep...and just getting in or out of the tub would remind me of Brian. Everything and anything, it seemed, reminded me of him. I used to eat my lunch at the café every day, but since I'd left, I'd avoided the place, and brown-bagged it. Even my writing did not prove to be a complete distraction and escape for me. I had begun a new novel, another fantasy dragon story . But each time I sat down to work on it, I soon found myself staring blankly at the empty page, my mind wandering to thoughts of Brian , replaying favourite scenes of their days together... and our one glorious night.
I sometimes wondered if it would have made any difference to Brian if he'd known that I had published two books. Maybe I should have told him about my secret life. I knew that he was suspicious of any woman who wasn't in his economic class, afraid that I would only be after his money. I wanted to tell Brian number of times about my success, but from that first night, I resented his high-handed attitude and preconceived ideas about me in particular-and female tortune hunters in general-so I'd kept the information back. In some irrational way, I realized, I wanted him to want me so much that it didn't matte if I was as totally unsuitable for him as superficially I might seem to be. Letting him know that I had a respectable career, beyond my unconventional shop, and possibly even more success on the horizon.well, it would somehow ruin it for me .
Even though it might have made things easier for him But, stubbornly, I wanted him to love me just for herself. Not for some label or superficial identity that would impress his status-conscious friends. I wouldn't be that poor single Mom from Sweetwater, texas, anymore, the one with the junk shop and illegitimate son. No, I'd be a published novelist. So that would be okay then, right?
Wrong. Absolutely wrong. I wanted him to just love me for being me. The woman he'd met purely by chance and fallen in love with. I wanted him to love that woman so much he just couldn't liive without me. No matter what my background or Circumstances were. That should be enough for him, I believed.
Sometimes I would inmagine writing him a letter-a short note, sometning cheertul and low key wouldn't pour my heart out and pressure him or anything like that. I'd just let him know , despite the harsh way we'd parted, that I knew that I missing him.
Would that be so awful? He was the domineering who liked to be in control, I knew very well But for goodness sake, It was the twenty-first century. A woman could take the initiative in these matters. I didn't have to sit in a tower like a maiden in a fairy tale, waiting for my bullheaded Prince Charming to come to his senses.
Then I'd picture Brian in New York, on his home turf. I'd see him dressed in one of his designer suits, sitting in his corner office, figuring out some complicated legal manoeuvring. The office was probably in a skyscraper, all glass windows with starkly modern furniture and a breathtaking view. And after his workday...well, there were women that he dated, I was sure. Polished, professional, gorgeous women, models and celebrities. He had his pick, no doubt. I pictured that part of his life, as well, until it hurt too much. Then I turned my thoughts aside.
No, I wouldn't write him a note. Not even a postcard. I wouldn't write or call. His time with me, the special connection I'd felt between us well, that had been a fluke. Even their lovemaking It had been wonderful. Perfect, he'd said. But perfect the way you take a perfect snapshot, purely by chance, and then save it in a book. I would never fit into his real life. I couldn't even begin to imagine it.
Would I ever hear from him again'?
Unlikely
Would I ever forget him?
Absolutely not.