“All the knowledge I possess everyone else can acquire, but my heart is all my own.”

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

On the morning of my thirty-seventh birthday, notably one that fell on a Saturday instead of a weekday which alone should have been cause for celebration, my mind was full of dread. I was having the absolute time of my life but now the end of that time was near. As much as I believed and trusted in her love, it apparently was no match for the reality that surrounded her, and I was clearly outmatched as it had me in the corner unable to protect myself while it pummeled me mercilessly. My thoughts, cruder than the iron maiden, jettisoned me back to my past at the speed of light as I knew there would be no greater heartbreak than this one and even the sum of all my past heartbreaks paled in comparison. I didn’t feel rejected but dejected, and I felt that was far worse because even though I was greatly loved this time around, disappointment still found a way to roost.

Without a doubt this was the end of love for me and my belief in its magic. Anya was the absolute love of my life and simply would always be. I felt like a widower who held on to that love, one that felt too extraordinary for it not to mean anything less than all that would ever be. Even though my life was fantastic professionally and financial success was within my grasp it meant absolutely nothing to me. Without Anya, not just love but her love solely and particularly, I failed in life, and to me losing her was how I measured my success. On the morning of my thirty seventh birthday, I thought about the bridge again for the first time in nearly a decade. I just didn’t want to hear the “I told you so’s” or the “everything happens for a reason” or even my all-time favorite hated phrase “it is better to have loved and to have lost than to never have loved at all.” I knew I was a peculiar person. I’m not sure if I was “one of a kind” but I thought very differently and was more passionate about love than most men and generally most people, and I’m sure to most all I felt wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense, but if they were me, a person who had this same crude torture device encased in their skull, I think they would see how I could be so passionate about this pending loss and my solution to it. If my relationship ended with Anya I simply wanted my life to end with it. I just couldn’t go back to the same miserable existence she helped me escape from.

The gray cloud darkened day captured my state of mind like no other day before it ever could as the rain outside my window crashed upon the ground and dissipated like all the hopes I had for us. I thought I was past the dark days of my life but in the end, I learned they could get even darker and even more unforgiving, like time itself. My life had become a prison cell, one I desperately needed to break out of because there was more than just a heart broken inside; my mind was now broken too. I had no idea hanging out at Paseo’s would yield my greatest triumph but also my greatest disenchantment. As much as I wanted to fight for the things she dreamt about, like being able to wear a cocktail dress for a night on a date with me, I knew I didn’t stand a chance. I had to let her take the reins and see where she truly wanted to go. In only two months, a lot of feelings had been shown and they were easily the greatest two months of my entire existence, however, it was still only two months. I had to respect how she felt about this and to let the rain fall where it may.

If she truly loved me, she would find a way to see me, but even if she didn’t see me on my birthday, it wouldn’t mean she didn’t love me however to say this ruined my birthday weekend would be like stating the planes just nicked the twin towers on nine-eleven. There was no birthday weekend now, it was just a Saturday, another day of the week that held the feel of a Monday. I suddenly learned that my ideals did not agree with society’s, in fact even with all this love in my heart, apparently, I was in the wrong. I couldn't help but wonder how love ever became irrational in our world. To me, lust was irrational but how could a love like ours ever be considered as such given the facts? That just didn’t make much sense to me, but then again maybe I didn’t make much sense to the world. To hear that our love was an irrational notion made me realize how lost we had become in this world, and how lost I apparently was all these years believing in such an absurd thing. Shakespeare and I were clearly fools, or maybe I was the only one who considered it to be more than just fiction, but apparently it’s a fairy tale in this life, and I don’t know what led me to believe a capitalistic society would find the existence of true love plausible as it was painfully clear, more than ever, I didn’t belong here.

The audacity of love to know how true it was and how real it felt and tasted yet it was the silliest of all earthly endeavors. Even Special Ed, Mitch Black, knew it was absurd and I was clearly the illogical one about it all. Anya was not going to jeopardize her reputation and after only two months together, not only would I not want her to but I would never allow her to. As much as it pained me to let her go, and as much as I wanted to show her how our love wasn’t irrational by any and all means, I had to listen to her, I had to follow her lead and to keep her safe from the harm she faced from others who believed my belief in love was abnormal; the startling of all revelations to me.

As I was being buried alive in all these thoughts, I noticed the red light on my cell phone frantically flashing.

9:10 a.m.

“Hi. Would you mind if I came by and saw you for an hour today?

ME: “Hi Sweetheart. I would love to see you but do you think it’s safe for you to do so? I don’t want you to risk anything.”

ANYA: “I’ll be fine babe. Can I come by at 11:30? Don’t want to eat, just want to talk and hold you for a while.”

ME: “As long as you’re going to be okay I would love to see you. 11:30 works. Please drive safely. It’s wet out.”

ANYA: “Great. Thank u, I will. See u soon. Xoxo”

It surprised me that she would find a way to come see me on my birthday, but my gut told me the words “just want to talk and hold you” meant she was coming over to let me know she was letting us go. That made sense to me because it seemed she didn’t care if she was caught anymore. If her husband was suspicious or found out she could just tell him she came over to end things between us. Anya was the kind of person who would do something this important face to face rather than through a text message as I believed she would do that out of respect for what we shared even if it was only two months.

When you truly fall in love with someone you also truly lose all sense of self, and at this point I had definitely lost that, in fact I lost all of who I was as early as November thirtieth, but Anya did too. She waged a battle on her front I had no clue about. She was up against a lot, and I had to try and recognize all I could reasonably fathom she faced. Even though she would not face anything alone, it was too early to face whatever monster it was, and as much as we cared for each other, the bottom line was something unknown lurked on her side of the fence and I need time to learn what that was as much as possible. At the same time, I also had to be prepared for anything from this day forward.

There was a stark difference between letting her run the show and giving up on us, and I wasn’t doing the latter by respecting where she wanted to go. She had told me so much which allowed me to feel so much, and even though the nature of our relationship mainly only allowed her communication with me through text messages, I felt secure anything she text to me she could not only tell me, but also show me if she had to. From wanting to wear her black cocktail dress, to believing and longing for our love, to nothing is impossible, to wanting me to fight for her; I believed those were her true feelings no matter who existed around her that kept her as a satellite in their orbit. The fact of the matter was they didn’t know how she truly felt, I was the one who did, and I believe they would have offered different advice if they knew the truth. The problem was it was Anya’s feelings to share, not mine, and I had no right to communicate this truth to anyone. She trusted me with it and even though it frustrated me to know I was the only one outside her circle with the knowledge of her husband’s infidelities, I had to keep that secret as sacred as she did, and I had to trust her reasons for keeping it as such however I was puzzled why they thought I was this “incredible” guy without knowing why I was truly in their friend’s life. From where they stood I should appear as a home wrecker and far from incredible.

11:20 a.m.

“I’m here.”

When she arrived ten minutes earlier than she was supposed to I was thoroughly convinced she planned to nuke us. As I began my walk to meet her at the gate, that internal eternal naysayer, my mind, who was there for me through all my failures, took over from there solely driven by her “here” text because it lacked a subsequent exclamation point. My mind then articulated that certainly an exclamation point would have followed if she was excited to be here as it was painfully clear to me she brought a burden along with her. I then decided at that point to be the bad guy to make it easier on her. She had kids to worry about over there; she didn’t need to worry about some guy who was technically not her boyfriend. I’d make it really easy on her and initiate the break-up so she didn’t have to feel bad about it at all. Although I would basically be committing suicide, at least she could go home feeling better about it. I felt I was used to being broken anyway and better equipped to deal with the sorrow because I lived alone. It would be easier for her to hide her emotions from her kids if I was a man about this. She deserved that much from me.

Unlike her last visit, this time there would be no happy meet and greet at the gate. There would be no life synchronizing our happiness around us; the light rain that fell and the gray cloud darkened skies appropriately stole that away. And if my life was just a moment in a million years, the love we shared represented a fraction of a millisecond, but that time alone meant more than the entire moment in a million years did. Without Anya in my life, I knew life would never be the same again, and that was a brutal reality for me, but one I had to face if it would make her life easier. I had to be Aurelius once again for the last time.

When I reached the gate and opened it to let her inside, she looked up at me with her lovely dark brown eyes and gave me a sad smile as her beautiful long dark hair slightly covered the right side of her face. She wore a slim fit black jacket with dark blue jeans as she carried a large black and gold purse over her shoulder. After I let her walk inside and the gate closed, she snatched my hand in hers and leaned into me like she always did. And just like they always did when I was around her, the butterflies in my stomach emerged from their cocoons.

“Happy birthday!” she said with a low tone but excitedly.

“Thank you.” I said as I totally forgot it was my birthday on the way down due to all the thoughts that consumed me. “Thank you for coming to see me with all that’s going on…and braving the rain and all the crazy drivers out there.”

“I couldn’t miss your birthday.” she said. “Thanks for letting me visit you.”

“Always.”

I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t even know how I would bring it up. I had an hour with her and I struggled with the point of my presentation. If I waited until the end it would put her in position to tell me herself which I didn’t want her to do so I felt I needed to let us go at the beginning of the meeting. When I got to my door and once we were inside my apartment, I made the decision to do it at that very moment, but before I could speak she handed me a small pink gift bag she pulled out of her large purse.

“Happy birthday babe.” she told me sweetly before handing me what she brought.

“Thank you so much.” I responded happily, sifting through the white paper tissue inside the bag.

“I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will...Oh wow.” I replied, suddenly distracted by what my eyes saw.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“I love it.” I answered, removing from the box and then gazing at the exquisite brown pen. “I’ve always wanted a nice pen, but this is really nice and so executive looking. Where did you get this?”

“Paradise Pen at the mall. They had so many to choose from. I went through quite a few of them before I picked this one out. I’m glad you like it.”

“You have great taste. Thank you.” I told her before placing the pen back in its box and on the kitchen counter behind me so I could give her a warm hug.

As I held her in my arms and took in her sweet scent, all I could think about was how much the pen could have cost her. By no means was this a cheap gift; the pen was sharply immaculate and had to set her back a couple hundred dollars at least. It was at this time my plan to let her go hit a boulder in the road as now I was worried I’d be too cruel doing so after her very generous gift; I just couldn’t go through with it now. It would be like peeling skin from my bones or having my head severed with a dull knife. I loved her to pieces and she had done so much for me over the last couple of months. I decided at this point to let her dictate things and accept what she wanted as the best for her. If I sensed she was headed that way, I would step up to the plate and take the lead, but if she still believed in us then I would go with the flow. I didn’t want to push anything. We’ve been together for only two months, but they were significant as if they held the weight of thirty six of my thirty seven years of existence. I would be a man if I had to, but I wanted to see where this went from here.

The longer I held her in my arms, the more I started to become aroused as I felt her body mesh into mine. I then began to have flashbacks of last Saturday night and I started to feel the same magnified uncontrollable intensity. When I felt her tightened grip upon my back, I knew she could feel it also.

“Would you like to lie down for a while?” I asked.

“Yes.” she responded softly.

This time I grabbed her hand and walked her to my bedroom. Just before I entered the room, I turned and kissed her gently on the lips.

“I love you.” I told her, with all the sincerity in the world.

“I love you, too.”

As we walked into my bedroom, she smiled at me then began to remove her blouse and as I removed my shirt I walked over to my bedroom window to open it slightly. I then turned the window blinds so my room was slightly darkened and hidden from an outsider’s view. I then turned to face her.

“I thought you might like to hear the sound of the rain.” I said as I turned to face her as she crawled onto the top of my bed from the other side of my room.

“I love the rain.” she said.

“I know you do.”

Before I joined her, I reached into my nightstand and pulled out a match to light the candle that rested on top of it, a scented candle I bought a few days after the last time she was in my room.

“It’s not a fireplace but it’s the next best thing.” I said as I shook off the match.

“I love it.” she said.

As I crawled into bed next to her, she came into my arms. We then began to kiss passionately as we rekindled the fire from Saturday evening, a warmth that heightened the ambiance around us. It was the purely private moment we both longed to have, but one that brought along with it some uncertainty as I didn’t know what was going to happen; I just knew anything could.

She then stopped abruptly.

“Babe.” she said in a serious tone.

“Yes?” I asked ready for it all to come crashing down on me.

“I’m not on your side of the bed, am I?”

“My side of the bed?” I laughed. “Well, if you need to know I always sleep on this side.”

“Really? I usually sleep on this side…the left side.”

“Well, I guess this works out then?”

With a broadened smile and a sweet laugh, she then crashed her soft lips into mine as we began to taste every inch of all we used to speak with. With the women I had been with before, I usually got tired of kissing after a few minutes and would initiate the pull away but with Anya it was different. It was as if our lips were made to touch and unnatural to part once they did, as if our taste was not only nourishing but delicious at the same time. Her soft kiss was the elixir to all my past heartaches, and I would have never thought there was a potion for that. With her thin powder blue bra on, she laid her breasts into my chest, and I started to move my hands down her legs and began to massage the inside of her thighs but just as I began to feel her body heat, and against all I truly wanted, I suddenly decided to I pull away.

“Is everything okay babe?” she asked.

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“Of course, Sweetheart.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I don’t know.” I answered. “Out of respect?”

“Really? I love it when you touch me though.” she informed me. “Are you not a very sexual person?”

“I'm a Very sexual person. “I told her. "Not in a fetish way though."

“I am too.” she replied, her eyes never leaving mine. “Do you feel guilty about my husband? Is that why you stopped?”

“I think if I felt guilty about that Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be in your life.” I laughed. “To be honest, I think about him as much as he thought about you when he cheated. I did it out of respect for us.”

“I don’t understand.” she said. “For us?”

“I can’t make love to you and just send you on your way home.” I clarified. “It’s tough on me every time you leave. I miss you severely when you go, and I know you feel the same way. I have to respect how heavy the missing is especially on you because of your kids. If I distract you through just a text message, I could only imagine if we made love. I know you need to be there for them.”

“You know who you remind me of?” she said.

“Who?”

“The forty year old virgin.”

“The forty year old virgin? From the movie?” I laughed and almost cried knowing there wasn’t much of an experience difference. “Honey, I would like to think I’m a little more advanced in my sexual conquests than he was at his age.”

“Are you sure about that?” she teased.

“For the most part.”

“Do you think about making love to me?”

“Of course, I do!”

“What do you think about?”

“I think about how it would feel to be inside you.” I elaborated, feeling turned on.

“I think about you being inside me all the time.”

“I want to be inside you.”

“Then what stops you? I want it just as bad…if not more.”

“I guess I’m just trying to be rational by letting it happen when it’s meant to.” I said. “It’s not because I don’t want to. I want to badly. I’ve never been more attracted to anyone before.”

Anya had been rejected by someone who had promised to love her forever. I had to acknowledge that first and foremost before I thought of myself, but it was also impossible not to go back to the disappointment and hurt I felt with Denise. When she looked at the bump on my leg and made me feel less than a human being. I didn’t want to lose Anya the same way. I just would never recover from it. I would feel completely unlovable and it scared me to lose the love of someone I loved more than life itself. If I had let her go, I knew I still had her love but opening myself up to her physically was much tougher for me to do than emotionally. I knew she lived like roommates with her husband so I wasn’t concerned at all that she was going home and anything was happening there, and I could tell because it took a lot for her to ask me all she just did. The bottom line was Anya and I were not just going to have sex, we were going to make love and that carried a huge emotional toll, one that was not for free by any means; not by a long shot.

“Look babe.” she said as she picked up a strand of her hair from off my pillow. “I leave traces everywhere.”

“You have beautiful hair. I love your hair.” I said. “I have no problem with you leaving traces. Leave as many as you please. Please.”

“I leave a lot in the bathroom.” she said. “I take two showers a day and I blow dry my hair a lot.”

“Not a problem. I hope to find your strands in my bathroom one day.” I said as I massaged the back of her neck with my right hand then ran it gently through her hair.

“Did I tell you about my Yorkie?”

“Suki?”

“You remembered?” she said as she smiled widely. “I didn’t think you would remember her name.”

“Of course I remembered.”

“Suki likes to jump in my lap. She loves me you know.”

“She does?” I teased. “The hell you say!”

“Yep!”

“Well, it’s probably because you’re so loveable.” I told her. “Are you ready for your half tomorrow?”

“You remembered I had a half marathon tomorrow?” she exclaimed with a look of shock.

“Of course. I remember everything you tell me. Everything you tell me is important enough to remember don’t you think?”

“I’m just not used to a man remembering anything I tell him.”

Anya told me about her half marathon the night we met at RJ’s. I could hardly run a mile let alone the thirteen she planned to run tomorrow morning. She informed me she had broken her right ankle a couple of times while running which surprised me because I had no idea that was even possible for runners to do. I had sprained my ankle a few times playing basketball before but that involved jumping. Anya ran every morning at 5 a.m. before she took her kids to school and I found her discipline inspiring because I worked out every other evening after work, mostly weightlifting and a little cardio as I started to become more conscious about the importance of running due to the sedentary nature of my profession. If you didn’t eat right while working in public accounting you may need a crane to be airlifted out of bed one day so I always made a conscious effort to eat healthy and to work out accordingly. Anya ate much healthier than I did though as she became a vegetarian after she unsuspectedly walked in on a slaughterhouse documentary on television when she was eight years old which left her sick to her stomach. Her sense of self-discipline was verified by my sight and disbelief of the physical perfection that laid in my arms so for her to doubt herself in any way greatly surprised me, but after being disrespected by a man she loved so many times, I understood that her self-doubts were as valid as my own.

“What’s your sign babe?” she asked randomly.

“Do you believe in astrology?”

“I think it carries some truth about people.”

“You know it’s funny but as much as I believed in love I never took horoscopes seriously.” I said. “If you must know though, I am a bearer of water. I bear water wherever I go. Supposedly.”

“Ha! An Aquarius! I should have known since today is your birthday I’m a Cap!”

“A Cap?”

“A Capricorn! I wonder if we’re compatible signs? You know Caps are known for having to be in control.”

“That’s interesting.” I remarked, surprised by trait she chose to share with me. “I think the only thing Aquarians are in control of are their bowel movements...and even that’s iffy.”

“Oh, please!” she said, lightly punching me in the shoulder. “I think Aquarians are free spirited. Very loving.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a bad thing, and it sounds very accurate when you consider how much I love you.”

“Well, even if we weren’t compatible signs, I would ignore it because I love you so much.” she told me as she put her face to mine, her eyes telling me she wanted to be kissed.

“I appreciate that.” I replied before obliging her eyes.

She then fell back upon my bed and looked up at the ceiling, her black hair beautifully sprawled out across the pillow. All I could do was get lost in her pure beauty and how happy she appeared to be here with me as she returned my gaze and smiled.

“I met my husband when I was nineteen. He was thirty.” she informed me.

“How did you guys meet?”

“I was just walking outside, along Belmont Shore in Long Beach. He pulled over in his black Porsche and stopped to talk. We must have talked for an hour before I gave him my phone number.” she said. “Even at the time I met him I was unsure of his motives, but as I got to know him, he had it so together. He drove a nice car and had things that made me sad I didn’t have.”

“You were sad he had things you didn’t have?” I asked. “Did you grow up poor?”

“No. My parents were middle class, but it always made me sad to see my friends with nicer things than I had.”

“You were only nineteen.” I reminded her. “It’s easy for girls to be attracted to a man like him, a guy who could give them a house with the white picket fence and get them away from living under the same roof with their parents. I get it because it appears to be a completely independent, carefree and the happiest of lives to live. What woman wouldn’t want that? I understand there are women who are gold diggers who are solely into men for the wrong reasons but all women should want a man who can provide for them. I don’t see anything wrong with that at all. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to want a man who is good provider but I believe a man has to be at least three things in this world to be truly worthy of a woman’s heart.”

“What are those three things?”

“I believe a man needs to be a good provider, a good father and a good husband.” I explained. “They can’t be mutually exclusive for a marriage to last. I think your husband has two out of the three, but he failed at the one he needed most of all.”

“Being a good husband is more important than being a good father?”

“Why certainly.”

“How is that more important?”

“Well, I feel if a man fails to take care of the needs of his wife, she will be unhappy and then this unhappiness would be reflected on her children which in turn would hinder her ability to be the best mother she could be. I mean…what do you think your kids think of you?”

“I think they believe I’m an unloving person.”

“For your kids to think that the most loving person I’ve ever known is unloving is a real tragedy Sweetheart--a real tragedy.”

“You’re right. It’s sad. You know my husband and I dated for four years and then broke up. I was actually engaged to another man at one time.”

“Really? I thought you and your husband have been together for the last twenty years?” “No, we had a break.” she said. “but he came back into my life and I left the man I was engaged to. Broke his heart so badly he moved to another state.”

I didn’t know what to say so I just nodded my head from the shock of her revelation. There were times in my life I often wondered what would have happened if I had taken another path so it was clear to me that Anya knew what point in her life she pondered the same. My heart went out to the man she was engaged to as I felt his vulnerability, weakness and pain to lose someone he loved so badly that he felt the need to leave the state, but I guess that was better than leaving the earth. I believe I would’ve chosen the latter.

“So how many years have you guys been together?” I asked. “cumulatively speaking.”

“Eighteen.” she said.

“How long have you been married?”

“It’ll be fifteen years this year.”

As curious as I was, I didn’t want to know the date as I felt it was none of my business. I could not help hut imagine though how beautiful she must have looked on her wedding day and I was thankful; thankful I didn’t know her at all back then to have my heart wrecked by the event.

“Did you agree with Carolyn about possibly throwing away so many years?” I asked.

“I thought a lot about what she said. Eighteen years is a lot to throw away.” she rationalized. “I don’t know. Are we being irrational?”

“Maybe I sound crazy, and please let me know if I do, but I truly believe it would only be irrational if we ignored our love for each other and for you to continue to not acknowledge your unhappiness. There's a real reason you're no longer in love with him.” I tried to explain. “I believe seeking a sense of happiness and security in your life considering the circumstances could never be irrational. To the outside world what we’re doing is irrational, but I don’t believe we’re being reckless and disrespectful at all here. For being so in love with each other we’ve been pretty rational so far. I mean, we’re not sleeping in your bed at home, you’re here in mine. We’re not driving around in your husband’s cars.”

“That’s true.” she said.

“I believe if my calculations are correct, your husband was my age when he cheated on you? How is that even possible when he was more than old enough to know better than that? He has a beautiful family with another child on the way? Does his being married exonerate him? I mean how does his being married make it more rational for him to do that than our love is? I’m sorry but people who cheat on others are not in love with them because if they truly were, they would never risk losing the person they love, especially time and time again. Forgive me for believing our love is completely justifiable considering all he’s done to your feelings for him. Only the situation makes our love appear irrational. And yes, you have eighteen years with this man, I’m not discounting that but how many of those years have been truly vested years in each other? If those years are under a cloud of deceit then how truly vested are you if at all? For a man to receive the love you give and to betray it so recklessly, I don’t think you’re throwing anything away that hasn’t been thrown away already by him.”

“I agree babe.” she said.

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds with him. I do respect him greatly as the father of your children and he was the love of your life at one time but not once, not twice, not three but four times he’s been unfaithful to you…and those are the times you know of. What about all the times he wasn’t caught? What if he had brought you home a disease heaven forbid? How could our love be unjustifiable if people knew the truth?”

After I finished that sentence, she gently came into my arms and began to weep quietly.

“I’m sorry Sweetheart.” I said as I kissed her head and rubbed her back. “You asked me to fight for you and that’s only what I’m trying to do. I love you and it’s hard for me not to fight for you to see things differently. I want the best for you. That’s all.”

“I know you do. You always make me feel so loved.” she said as she wiped her face. “I’ve never had that before and it makes me sad.”

“I’ve never had that before either.” I said. “Another reason I believe in us.”

I didn’t understand if her husband was suspicious or if he even knew about us why he would hold onto her. He had to know she was unhappy because of his past infidelities, so much so her kids believe she is unloving. I mean how could this be any good for their children to see? Why wouldn’t he just let her go instead of holding onto a lie? If he had been faithful I could understand him holding on but why not make this right for her and set her up for happiness? I didn’t need his money. I had the means to take care of her and even help out with the kids. Did he want her to be in this position where she looks like the bad guy and he goes unscathed? I mean it’s not like he truly loved her. Then again, a man who truly loved his wife in this situation would let her go, so I guess I answered my own question.

We held each other for another ten minutes before the end of heaven was upon us.

“I don’t want to leave babe but…”

“You don’t have to explain, I understand.” I said. “Plus you have to get to the race expo to pick up your bib number for the half tomorrow.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Always.”

As we sadly rose from my bed and put back on our clothes, I closed the window and blew out the candle which marked the official end of our time together. As we walked out of my room and before she reached for the door to exit my apartment she came into my arms. As I held her she started to silently weep again so I pulled her away to wipe her eyes with my thumbs.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine. It just makes me sad I can’t stay as long as I want to. Happy birthday my love.”

“Thanks for making it a happy one for me.” I said. “I thought you were coming over to drop the bomb on me.”

“Really? On your birthday?”

“Um yeah...I didn’t know.”

“I had no intentions of ending us.” she said. “I just knew I had to get to you after the blow out this week.”

“I understand.” I said. “I know it’s a scary time right now for you and I respect what you’re going through over there so don’t hold back anything. I need to know.”

“Okay babe. Thank you.”

“Thanks for making my birthday one I’ll always remember. I haven’t had a better birthday in as long as I could remember. Thank you for my pen and my CD. I loved my gifts.”

“I’m so glad. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I said then kissing her and holding her again wishing she'd never leave.

We held hands on the way out as I escorted her back to the complex’s front gate. As we reached the end of our trek, I gave her another hug and kissed her again, something that never got old to me nor ever felt obligated to do. As I reluctantly waved good-bye and walked away, from behind a large tree, I turned back to catch one last glimpse of her before she departed but instead of observing her exit, I found her standing there with her back to me still inside the complex with her right hand on the gate’s doorknob. She then turned her head back without seeing me in an apparent genuine attempt to know how she arrived at the gate from my apartment, as if to store it in her memory for future visits. On full display was one of the reasons I loved her so deeply as she just had a way of loving people even when she thought no one was watching, and in this situation, with so much uncertainty because of the unknown variable for me when she is at home, what she just did meant the world to me. Even though her way of loving me could be unpredictable at times, it always felt strangely natural to me and somehow fully undeniable, and even I, after all my uncompromising belief in it, never knew love could feel that way. The kind where an expression of love is made without knowledge nor intent of its receipt.

My birthday was the most bittersweet of days, a that word captured the very essence of our relationship as it gave us the highest of highs and left us with the lowest of lows. As far as I was concerned, my birthday was over the minute she left. My day simply could not get any better than that. Anya’s love for me was vastly different from a love I had ever experienced before. It was completely unearthly, and if there was a heaven that’s where it had to come from. I learned a lot about what we stood for today. I didn’t want to be negative with her, but at the same time I couldn’t keep my thoughts hidden. I thought for sure she was going to end our relationship today with all the pressure she felt at home and all the things she shared with me, but the fact she didn’t showed me she believed in us and even as I was certain we were done forever after this week, again I learned that love always found a way to make the impossible possible and the implausible plausible. Maybe she thought it to be cruel to end it on my birthday of all days, and that was a distinct possibility but her tears told me she had no plans of doing so, and that she wanted us just as bad as I did. I realized I had to take the viewpoints others fed her and try my best to tactfully show her the other side of them. The bottom line was I knew the truth; I had to show her that she was being presented with their fears, and not their facts.

I was so spent from worrying about her leaving me I went back into my room to lie down for a few minutes. As a few minutes turned into nearly two hours, I was awakened by my vibrating cell phone.

2:18 p.m.

“Just got back from the race expo. Thank you for all the kind words today. Loved our time together! Glad we straightened things out. I love you very much. Happy Birthday my love! Are you going to do anything special tonight?”

“I’m just going to hang out with my mom and dad. They usually buy me a birthday dinner and get me a cake.” I texted back. “Thanks again for stopping by and for the thoughtful gift. I’m enamored with my pen. I can’t wait to use it.”

1:23 p.m.

“You are most welcome! I wanted to give you something that would remind you of me every day. I hope you believe me when I say I love you.”

“Of course I believe you. You’re always on my mind, and trust me, I love my pen but I didn’t need it as a reminder of you. You’re with me every day even when you can’t be.”

1:32 p.m.

“I’m glad. I feel the same way. You touch me every day with your kind thoughts and words. Love you very much.”

“I adore you. Thank you again for coming. I love you very much too. I miss you.”

1:36 p.m.

“I adore you too! I would drive to the other side of the world to see you. I get crazy just thinking about kissing you! I’m going to miss you very much. It already hurts.”

“All the things I told you today I truly mean. I hope you know that. It might come off as over the top sometimes but it’s just how I truly feel about you. I don’t know how to express it any other way.”

1:42 p.m.

“I know you meant every word, I felt it. I loved it! Have fun with your family! Have a great B-day night!”

My birthday was over now as far as I was concerned, but I would try. When I arrived at my mother’s house, she had all the party favors ready, a candle embedded chocolate cake front and center on the kitchen counter with a large pizza for us on the kitchen table along with a birthday card. After we had pizza, my mom and dad then serenaded me with “Happy Birthday” and I blew out all the candles I could. I was too full to eat cake after dinner so I kept them company and opened my card while they indulged themselves in my birthday cake. After I thanked them for the generous hundred dollar gift card to Macy’s where I purchased my work clothes I retreated to my mother’s room to watch television with her for a bit while my father went to the rec center to work the clock for an evening basketball game. As the theme to “The Golden Girls” in my mother’s room penetrated my ear drums, I felt my phone suddenly vibrating in my jeans pocket and I begrudgingly grabbed it as I hoped it contained a message that didn’t ruin the day.

7:42 p.m.

“Goodnight! Love you!”

“Goodnight! Love you more!” I text back to her happily.

7:54 p.m.

“Love u, love u, love u!!!!!”

“Times that text by infinity then you might come close to my love for you.” I text to her.

7:57 p.m.

“You melt my heart. Wish you were here with me. Xoxo!”

“I wish I could be with you right now. It’s hard to believe today happened.”

8:03 p.m.

“It was like a dream! I’m laughing inside about our “irrational” thoughts. You know you are “Stronger”!

“I’m not stronger; I just play it off well. I want the same thing you do. Are you doing anything special tonight?”

8:07 p.m.

“I’m alone tonight. Finishing up dinner with Debbie (who is crazy about Special Ed) and Carolyn.”

“Who isn’t crazy about Special Ed? Deep down she wants him.” I teased back.

8:13 p.m.

“She just fell off her chair!!! Goodnight baby! Miss you and love you! Dream about us! Xoxo!”

“Goodnight! Good luck on your race tomorrow! Miss you and love you too! Xoxo!”

After I was done texting, I looked back at my mother who smiled in my direction without an utter of a single word. I know it meant a lot to her to see me happy even though I knew she couldn’t accept it wholeheartedly, but her smile at least confirmed it was nice for her to see for once. As I reflected back on her text and considered the events that deprived me of a decent night’s rest during the week, I knew dreaming about us would not be a problem.