“Making love with you
Has left me peaceful, warm and tired.
What more could I ask
There’s nothing left to be desired.
Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak
So sleep, silent angel
Go to sleep.”
~ “The Air That I Breathe” The Hollies
After my threat to talk to Jackson, I felt Anya started to understand better what I faced. She had to know me enough by now to know for that to cross my mind, I must’ve been beyond confused and frustrated. The last thing I’d ever want to do was hurt her or her kids, but what if she intentionally hurt me? I just didn’t think that was even remotely possible, but that didn’t mean it didn’t scare me to death to think it was. I could say “I’m sorry” all day long to her, but I also had to prove to her how sorry I was. By seeking and going to therapy it showed my actions aligned with my words. I had to get us back to the beginning, even if it meant I had to be on medication—it was for us. More than anything in this world, and really all I ever desired, was to take a knee and put a ring on her finger, and I’d choke on any amount of pride to do so.
ME: “I know you’re not trying to mess with my head. You never have. I should be ok to go to Sf this weekend. I’d love to see you.”
ANYA: “Seriously?”
ME: “R u serious about it? I would.”
ANYA: “I don’t want to get your hopes up or think we’re getting back together. I just wanna talk.”
ME: “Sweetheart, I don’t expect that at all. I just want to talk to you too.”
ANYA: “It’s costly just to come up for the weekend. Sorry. When would you come up? I’m leaving Fri afternoon (Jet Blue) out of LB airport.”
ME: “I’d take the afternoon off and drive up there on Friday. Where are you staying? I’ll get a hotel near you. What days are you going to be there?”
ANYA: “I think it’s called The Palace. Going Fri till Mon. Do you know when you’re going and where?”
ME: “Not sure yet, but what works best for you?”
ANYA: “Hmmm I’d have to think about that. Were you thinking to come up for 1,2, or 3 nites?”
ME: “I was thinking 2 nights.”
ANYA: “Which 2 nights would be better for you?”
ME: “It will probably be Friday and Sat nite. Which nite did you want to talk?”
ANYA: “Ok then we can talk both nites. It will be later in the evening I have to figure out what I’m going to say to the girls.”
When she told me both "nites", my life felt renewed sensing some hope she’d give me a genuine chance to prove how the therapy and medication has helped. Giving me a real shot to get back to the start of our love without the sadness that ruthlessly reigned in my mind. Anya was true to her own words—that you can’t hold a grudge when you’re trying to move forward.
ME: “I’ll look into hotels and let you know what I find out so I can give you more detailed info.”
ANYA: “Ok. Let me know what u discover later.”
ME: “I’ll let you know the very minute I know!”
ANYA: “K!”
With renewed vigor, on a Tuesday nonetheless, I went back to work. With hope back in play, I actually loved everything about my life, even the mundane world of accounting. I enjoyed my career for the most part, but with more experience came more work, and with more work came more responsibilities, and with more responsibilities came more pressure and stress. I had a hard time handling stress as much as Anya did at times. I look back at all those times she told me she couldn’t handle the pressure and I felt just awful. Stress is the great distorter of feelings and emotions—it obstructs people from connecting. When things were good with Anya, the pressure and stress were just ordinary challenges that I willingly tackled with passion. I loved my career because I was in love with Anya—her love was integral to my success. Having her in my life helped me get the promotion to partner—without her I wouldn’t have cared when it happened. The way she lived her life inspired me to live mine to the fullest and losing her meant all that inspired me would slip away forever—why it scared me so much. Her love simply made me feel capable of accomplishing anything in life. I dreamt after a long day at work coming home to her, and that became not only a goal, but a must have in my life. Her hold on me, became that powerful and important. It’s why I could feel the slightest movement and the lowest of sounds that lead to me struggling mightily. As I tackled the plethora of outstanding items on my desk, and staying late to close a few engagement files before my trip to San Francisco, I heard some commotion outside my office. Listening intently, I overheard Clyde and Kevin making plans to grab lunch together across the street. I expected Clyde to poke his head inside and ask for me to join them, but he never did. I was relieved because I planned to look up hotels on my lunch break.
When I arrived home from the office that evening, Anya sent me a text that tempered my excitement.
ANYA: “How are you feeling?”
ME: “Fantastic!”
ANYA: “That’s good! R u sure you want to come up? I don’t want you to if it’s going to make you sad or upset. I don’t want to fight either. Just talk.”
ME: “How do you feel about it?”
Her concerns, along with her “I don’t want to get your hopes up” text from earlier, captured a microcosm of why I struggled at times. How she went from “I was kinda hoping you’d come up” to “I don’t want to get your hopes up” would drive anyone in love with her insane. Maybe that was the plan? I didn’t know but at times, it felt that way. I tried to ignore her inconsistency but her question was left up to misinterpretation. All I could do was put it in her court. When she didn’t return my volley, I tried to put her mind at ease with some lobs of my own.
ME: “Honey, I’m past being upset. Sure, it might make me sad, but I’m sad anyway. It would be nice to see you.”
ME: “Things just don’t bother me anymore. I care, but I don’t care. If that makes sense.”
ME: “I told you I feel bad for you. I hurt you really bad. I wasn’t and am not expecting you to get back with me. I know you just want to talk.”
ME: “The fighting is over on my part.”
After I sent these off to her, I reread them a few times before she responded about fifteen minutes later.
ANYA: “Ok then I’d love to see you and talk. What time r u leaving Friday?”
ME: “Not sure yet. Hopefully in the morning but it may be in the afternoon.”
ANYA: “I won’t be able to meet you till 10ish Friday night. Is that ok?”
ME: “Yes, that’s fine. Thank you for giving me the chance to talk to you and know about this. I appreciate it.”
ANYA: “I can meet you after our carbo load dinner, but I don’t know the time yet.”
ME: “Ok! Do what you need to do!”
ANYA: “Thank you for understanding. You pinky swear, right?”
ME: “Pinkie swear not to tickle you? JK! Pinky swear!”
ANYA: “Ok thank u! I will trust u!”
I truly believed with Zoloft, a pinky swear would be a piece of cake. Without it, I doubt I could’ve promised it. Believing the medication helped me deal with any issues I had with her, I took the chance of a lifetime for a moment of a lifetime. I had no control over the unknown variable and what Anya did with Jackson at home. All I could control was my perception of the unknown variable and not let it affect me. I had never felt more optimistic about our relationship, and more hopeful, than I did on this day, and felt just as much in control of my thoughts and emotions as the night we met.
The next day, while on my lunch break, I booked my room for four hundred dollars a night. After seeing my therapist for the second time, I texted Anya when I got home.
ME: “I booked my room. I’ll be staying at the Hotel Milano on 5th street. It’s about a half mile from your hotel. It’s the closet place I could find that was available both Friday and Saturday nights. I hope it isn’t haunted! Ha!”
ANYA: “Great! Haunted? Why would u think that?”
ME: “It looks like an old spooky hotel. Most hotels are haunted in SF aren’t they?”
ANYA: “They r? I don’t like haunted places! I hope it’s not too far! Walking distance?”
ME: “A half mile isn’t too bad, is it? Hope your hotel isn’t haunted too!”
ANYA: “Great Landyn. Now I’m going to stay up all nite waiting for my walls to move! JK! That’s not too bad.”
ME: “Haha! Maybe your ghost is friendly? Who knows?”
ANYA: “Not funny!”
ME: “Just call him Casper. If he doesn’t answer to that. Um…nevermind. Ok I’ll stop!”
ANYA: “Too funny!”
ME: “You believe in ghosts, don’t you? See, if I ever see a ghost, it wouldn’t scare me. I’d be happy, actually.”
ANYA: “What? You’d be happy if you saw a ghost?”
ME: “I didn’t say I wouldn’t be scared, but if I saw a ghost it would confirm there’s life after death! See! Always a silver lining if you’re willing to look for one! Ha!”
ANYA: “No, I don’t believe in ghosts. La la la la la! I can’t hear u!”
ME: “Well you might believe in them after this trip! I’m kidding!!!”
ANYA: “Ur bad!”
ME: “That was bad! Sorry!”
I believed this was the first fun text exchange we’ve had in a while, and it filled my heart with more hope and optimism that we could get back to the beginning—to an even higher height of love for each other. Every real relationship had its share of struggles. We were passionate about each other and sometimes that passion bred heart wrenching discussions, but San Francisco provided us with a chance to grow. To learn from our hard times and move on from them to an even better place where love and understanding ruled supreme.
There have been many times she had given me hope just to take it away, but she was known from time to time to give hope—I had never been caught more off guard by her next text.
ANYA: “If I can ditch the girls and not go to the carb dinner on Sat, would you like to have dinner somewhere nice?”
One of our dreams since we first met was to have dinner together. As far as dreams coming true, a dinner together gave me more hope than ever she wanted to hit reset and work on getting back together. As I wiped a tear from my eye, I texted her back.
ME: “I would love to have dinner with you somewhere nice!”
ANYA: “Ok! No hopes up, right? Just talking?”
When I read her text, it left me disheartened once again. Why not hit me with that before asking me to have dinner? She was ditching her friends to have a nice dinner with a man she loved yet she didn’t want to give him hope? I put my head in my hands and pushed in the sides of my face then looked up at the sky—trying to deal with another thing she would say at times that put me on extreme highs then extreme lows. After I had already committed to dinner, I then played it cool to show her it didn’t affect me either way—that I understood the romantic dinner we dreamt about having was just another hopeless endeavor. I had to ask myself the question though, if she truly wanted to be with me, wouldn’t she allow a dinner at a nice place together to get her hopes up too?
ME: “I understand.”
ANYA: “Ok we’re on! We may need to work on a reservation though for it will be a busy weekend!”
ME: “I can take care of that!”
Doubting Jackson ever made reservations for them, I decided to be the man in the relationship and take the initiative.
ANYA: “Ok! Thank u! Do u want restaurant recommendations or do you want to go to a place you know and like?”
ME: “Do you have any place in mind?”
ANYA: “Boulevard. Kuletos or Slanted Door. Fleur de lys if you want fancy.”
Kuletos—where I met Jackson Caiaphas for the first time with Clyde when we pitched our services to him. I didn’t know what the other restaurants served, but I did lean a little towards Kuletos due to the familiarity I had with it. Remembering how he bragged about himself and his perfect family, there was a sense of pride I couldn’t deny in taking his wife there for a romantic dinner. A place he likely embarrassed her at before while flirting with waitresses in her presence.
ME: “They all sound good to me!”
ANYA: “U pick! Do u have a place u like?”
Uh oh, I thought. My “they all sound good to me” didn’t seem to fool Anya as I believed she picked up on the fact I had no clue what was on any of the menus of the restaurants she suggested.
ME: “I really don’t. Is your heart set on a certain restaurant? I’d be more than happy to go there!”
ANYA: “Not really. Fleur is more dressy-expensive. Kuletos is Italian. Boulevard is American and Slanted Door is contemporary Vietnamese. See which has availability.”
ME: “Ok, availability will probably narrow it down for me! I’ll pick a winner for us!”
ANYA: “I hope you can get a reservation cuz busy weekend!”
ME: “Me too! We’ll see! Is 8 a good time u think?”
ANYA: “Plus or minus 30 min to an hour. We may have to be flexible.”
ME: “Ok! I just want to make sure you don’t have to rush after visiting your nephew.”
ANYA: “Thx I’ll be fine.”
ME: “Ok! Let me see what I can do.”
ANYA: “K”
It took me all of five minutes to phone Kuletos and make a dinner reservation for 8 p.m. The main reason I decided on that restaurant was because I knew Anya believed I didn’t like Italian food. I wanted her to know I was willing to give it a try, although it was hard to pass up the expensive dressy restaurant because I wanted to see what Anya would wear, but I knew she would look beautiful regardless. I also knew she wanted to carb load on Saturday night so her heart had to be set on Italian food.
Ten minutes after we finished texting, I texted her again.
ME: “Kuletos. 8 p.m. on Saturday evening has been reserved. You can carb load there if you want to!”
ANYA: “Ha ha! Great! Thank you!”
ME: “Should be fun!”
ANYA: “Yes! How r u feeling?”
ME: “I feel well. Talked to my therapist today. I told her how I feel so different than I did just a week ago and she said that was great b/c the med hasn’t really set in yet. How r u feeling?”
ANYA: “That’s good! Glad u r still going to see her. I’m good. I have to admit I’m a bit nervous about this weekend but I know you’re feeling better so I’m good with it.”
ME: “If here was ever a time not to be nervous, this weekend is the time. I know it is hard to understand and believe but it’s true.”
ANYA: “I’m glad we are going out to dinner. I hope we can really talk and get it all out.”
ME: “I think we’ll be able to do that!”
ANYA: “Ok, I will believe u.”
ME: “You have never been safer from my negative emotions.”
ANYA: “Ok”
ME: “2 months from today was the last time I saw you. Hard to believe.”
May 22nd, 2009, the day I blasted her for having her sister-in-law as a house guest—Andrew and Katie’s aunt. I looked back at that and could only shake my head in disbelief that I let that break me down. I guess I hoped she wouldn’t have been comfortable having her over to stay because of our relationship. Then again, she had to keep up appearances because Jackson knew.
ANYA: “Really? I remember putting my half full Corona on the counter in disbelief and feeling so sad.”
ME: “I know. I remember too much from that day. I’ve had some bad days in my life but that was the worst one for sure. That date is hard to forget for me.”
ANYA: “Sorry. Let’s just enjoy our time this weekend and not be down and sad. Ok?”
ME: “Ok. I’m looking forward to it.”
ANYA: “Me too.”
Regardless of her inconsistency, her words of encouragement lit me up inside enough to feel this would be a dinner together full of hope and love. That she wanted to give me a chance at redemption. To get us back on track and in the right direction. If that was her intent, whether she admitted it or not, we would fly from here.
The next day, I asked to take the day off on Friday so I could drive up early enough to avoid much traffic. Since the firm didn’t pay for overtime worked during the busy season, they put up our overtime hours in a bank that I could use for days off when it wasn’t busy—up to eighty hours a year. A lot of people chose to not work on Fridays during the summer months instead of going on vacation during the year. When I took this particular Friday off, even after I had just taken three sick days, it was standard operating procedure for the firm’s employees.
When the next day arrived, and I was home from work, I texted her hoping for consistency.
ME: “One more day!”
ANYA: “Can you believe it?”
ME: “No! Ha ha! How r u?”
ANYA: “Horrendous day! Going to be a long nite. Long story. Will tell you tomorrow. A bit nervous but good. U nervous?”
ME: “U know I’m not nervous at all. I’m looking forward to talking to you.”
ANYA: “Good! Do you feel good?”
ME: “I’m feeling good. I feel very different in a good way.”
ANYA: “Ok I’m glad. What time are you leaving tomorrow morning? I’m so overwhelmed right now.”
ME: “I’m thinking at about 9 in the morning. Wish I could help you. Are you packed yet?”
ANYA: “Ha! No not yet.”
ME: “Take it easy over there.”
ANYA: “Thx trying.”
When she told me she was nervous, I chalked it up to nothing more than the usual excitement we felt when seeing each other. I also couldn’t blame her for being nervous after the last time we saw each other at my place and I lost my marbles. With Zoloft working, the shield that protected me from my negative thoughts, things would be different this time around. It was only natural for her to worry about me breaking down—a learned behavior. Knowing I had to earn her trust again, I wasn’t even slightly concerned I’d fail her.
When the morning, of the day we were to meet for the first time in two months, arrived, I texted her.
ME: “Good morning. I hope you had a good night and your day got a little better. I’m going to leave in an hour.”
ANYA: “Thanks. Haven’t slept. Been up all nite with Andrew. Sick with high temp. Drive carefully.”
The drive to San Francisco carried the same haunting memory as the one I made on the same highway to meet Denise in Sacramento—a six-hour trip I made just to be treated like a monster. Although some similarities could be made because of the apprehension in her texts—it didn’t carry the same emotions because Anya loved me. We experienced far more beautiful moments than Denise and me ever did so there should be no comparisons made but that trip haunted me. I didn’t want to leave San Francisco feeling the same way I left Sacramento, but fear knew no variances and always prompted pain. Anya’s love left me to feel my depression when Denise dumped me was the biggest joke. Losing Anya’s love should cause that kind of depression, not Denise’s lack of love. Falling for Anya made me realize how irrational I was for letting Denise’s loss affect me the way it did. Although there was no way this trip would end the same way and was an entirely different set of circumstances, the fear of failure remained with me. But I knew love now and to let the past enter my consciousness would be irrational. Continuing my drive, and only four hours removed from my destination, Anya sent me a text.
ANYA: “Hi. Hope driving is going well. Don’t text me until 3 p.m. just in case. My computer guy’s going to work on my phone and I don’t want him to get any info. Ok?”
ME: “K!”
An hour later, I received a call and voicemail from an unknown number. When I went to retrieve the message, the voice was Vance’s to let me know they all pitched in to get a limo for the high school reunion—I had totally forgotten to tell them about my change of plans. When he announced the names of everyone in the limo, a group of some of my closest friends, it broke my heart to have to let him down. I immediately called and explained to him what came up and how important it was for me to go to San Francisco this weekend—the moment of a lifetime. When I told him, I would still pay my share for the limo, he told me not to worry about it and wished me the best. When I hung up the phone, it brought me back to a time when being in the limo with my close friends would my first option, but I wanted my best friend, Anya, with me now. Other than meeting my mother, I wanted her to meet my closest friends—I know they would love her. There was no doubt that this trip to San Francisco was the most important trip I’ve ever taken. I loved this woman with my heart and soul—I ate, slept and breathed her. If things were right with her in my life, my life was perfect. Anywhere with Anya was always the place I wanted to be. If she were removed from my life, I would only be lost forever. I knew this and that’s why my first and only choice was to go to San Francisco—to prove to her I was well, and we belonged together. Yes, I went to San Francisco with hope in my heart, but not expecting anything other than the chance to talk. If there was hope for us, it had to start in San Francisco and not necessarily happen there. We couldn’t be together in San Francisco because I had to prove to her I could fix the mess I made first. Our meeting could only represent a starting point and nothing more—I had to earn back her trust.
My route into San Francisco, at about 3 p.m. took me on the Oakland Bay Bridge, a conduit I remembered during the 1989 World Series was damaged during an earthquake. Since it was a Friday, I forgot that rush hour started early. As traffic grounded to a halt, Anya sent me a text.
ANYA: “R u here?”
ME: “On the Oakland Bay bridge stuck in traffic! R u here?”
ANYA: “K! Yes, I’m here. It’s freakin’ cold up here! Brought all the wrong clothes! Just waiting for shuttle.”
I rolled down my window, letting the cold air blow against my hand before rolling it quickly back up.
ME: “OMG! It is cold! Just thirty minutes ago the temperature was 90 degrees and now it’s 55! A temperature difference of 35 degrees just 30 miles further?”
ANYA: “Hope u packed warm clothes!”
ME: “Nope! I didn’t pack any long-sleeved shirts.”
ANYA: “Me too! Couple of Southern Cali rookies!”
I knew San Francisco could get windy, from my time catching a Giants game as a kid at Candlestick Park. The temperature was a comfortable seventy degrees at first pitch but at around the sixth inning a fog rolled in and all of a sudden there was a wind chill factor of forty degrees. It would’ve been nice to recall this memory before I arrived in San Francisco, but my mind was elsewhere.
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After I reached my hotel room about eight hours after I embarked, I emptied my suitcase and set up shop before I texted Anya to let her know I arrived.
ANYA: “Welcome! We just made it too. Yes, dinner with them and an old neighbor who moved up here. I could be free around 9-9:30ish? Ok with you?”
ME: “Of course! Have a great time!”
Since I had four hours to kill, I planned to grab dinner then take a quick nap—the drive had worn me out a bit. About a half hour before we were to meet, she sent me a text.
ANYA: “Sorry running late! 10:30 ok?”
ME: “Absolutely! Thanks for letting me know!”
I snuck in another half hour of rest then got up to shower, however when 10:30 came around, I still hadn’t heard from her. I didn’t want to text her because she was with her friends and trusted she would let me know when she would be ready. At fifteen minutes past ten thirty, she did.
ANYA: “Can you meet me at my lobby at 11:30?”
ME: “On my way!”
Her hotel was within walking distance of mine, and since there seemed to be little parking available, I decided to walk sleeveless in the fifty-degree night. I arrived at her hotel lobby at twenty minutes past eleven and sat down to wait for her. The lobby captured the essence of its namesake, The Palace. Gold drapes and marble floors created a majestic feeling as people walked back and forth. Loud voices from the hotel’s nearby banquet rooms could be heard in the lobby area creating a party atmosphere—no wonder why Anya had a hard time pulling away. After getting up to see what was going on, I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
“Landyn!”
“Deb!” I announced loudly back before giving her a hug. “How are you? You look really nice!”
“Good! Thank you!” she replied, taking a sip from her wine glass. “Cold enough for ya?”
“You could say that!” I laughed. “I definitely didn’t pack for this.”
“We all didn’t pack for this.”
“What’s going on in there?”
“Oh…somebody got married.”
“Do you know them?”
“No, we basically decided to go crash it and they invited us in for a drink.”
“That’s classic!” I laughed, hoping to join the fun. “Is Anya in there?”
“I don’t know…we all got separated. I think so.” She answered, taking another sip of her drink while trying to maintain her balance. “Did she ask you to meet her in the lobby?”
“She did, but I’m ten minutes early. I’m sure she’ll be here.”
“I’m sure she will.” She assured with a smile. “I’m going back in. Take care, Landyn. Nice to see you.”
“Nice to see you too, Deb. Take care.”
After I ended my conversation with her, I decided to look at my phone to see if Anya sent me a message, and she did.
ANYA: “Come up to room 822.”
ME: “I’ll be right there!”
As I knocked on her room’s door, I didn’t know what to expect. When it swung open, my eyes widened fueled by the increased rate of my heartbeat. Over two months’ worth of sand fell through the hourglass of time since my eyes met hers, and when she extended both of her hands out to me I couldn’t put mine in hers fast enough. Walking slowly backwards as I followed her lead, she didn’t say a word—we were too lost in each other to speak. Her dark hair flowed down her shoulders, like the most tranquil waterfall over a healthy green cliff. Like a drop of water into the ocean, my eyes were lost in the soft darkness of hers. With a smile that pierced my heart with the precision of Excalibur, her cheeks enhanced my view like watching the synchronicity of two setting suns. She wore a beige, almost golden blouse loosely hanging over high-rise dark blue jeans with open toed heels—an ensemble I had yet to see on her. Unable to control the beauty before me, I slowly brought her into my body releasing her from our extended embrace, and back home to me. We stood in her room for no less than five minutes holding onto each other for dear life—as if we were stranded in a frigid ocean and finally able to board the boat that saved us. Not only did I not want to let go—I couldn’t let go. If it was possible to hold her forever so I could never lose her again, I was up for the challenge. To feel her in my arms. To smell her sweet perfume. To see her sweet face. To hear her soft voice. There was no closer thing to heaven on earth.
“I’ve missed you so much.” I whispered in her left ear, reluctant to let go.
“I’ve missed you too.” she whispered softly back.
She then began to withdraw but held her hands out so I could put mine back in hers where they belonged. Then it hit me—this was one of those moments of a lifetime. One of those moments in time we had to seize or lose it forever. Trying to fight back tears, she slowly guided me in front of her and right over her bed—the time to seize the moment of a lifetime upon me. Taking a step backwards, she fell down upon the bed as I brought myself upon her. It was at this moment I realized she was a little tipsy, and she smiled then closed her eyes recognizing she couldn’t fool me. The way she laid there, with her hair sprawled over a white pillow and with unbuttoned jeans exposing her toned stomach, her beauty rendered like a mute on the San Francisco streets. With her eyes closed, she brought her left hand to the side of my face and began to run it through my hair. I then closed my eyes—it felt so good after the long day I had. Running my fingers through her thin soft dark hair, I didn’t stop until her eyes were back into mine. The last thing I wanted to do was assume anything, but my visit to her room filled my heart with the hope that this trip wasn’t just meant for talking—but for the chance to get back together. That she wanted the same thing that I wanted setting up our dinner the following evening to be the romantic one we dreamt about. Anya then brought her hand from my hair and to across her neck line.
“My thingie.” she announced, smiling while her fingers played with the necklace I had gotten her. I could barely speak upon seeing it on her neckline.
“I love you.” I exhaled, bringing my lips to kiss her neckline.
“I love you too.” she whispered.
Bringing my lips into hers, it was time to lay it all on the line—to see if she wanted to do more than talk on this trip. Letting our natural instincts overcome us, she met mine without restraint as we seized the moment of our lifetimes. It all felt surreal knowing this very moment was one of those defining ones of fate and destiny we’re only allowed a few times in our life. But the real miracle of what I experienced resided in one simple fact—my moment of a lifetime came with my soulmate. As she writhed below me in pleasure, I brought her hands above her head so I could take off her blouse. I then removed my shirt and brought my bare chest upon her bosom a she whispered “I love you” before her lips crashed into mine. I moved my hand downward across her stomach and moved them lower past her unbuttoned fly. With each kiss and moan, the further her last visit to my apartment and Las Vegas disappeared from memory to remind us we needed to feel each other again to save all we had—the one thing no one could take away from us. With each word, the more convinced I became that this trip was about getting back to the start, and Anya felt just as frustrated as I was. Her love instantly brought my guard down about any reservations I had before leaving that morning and it showed she cared about my plight—having to go on medication to resolve the issues I was to blame for that hurt her—that hurt us.
“The girls are going to be back here any minute, babe.” she informed.
“Ok.” I answered, pulling slowly away from her while playing with her hair again. “I ran into Debbie downstairs.”
“Did you see Carolyn, too?”
“No, just Debbie.”
“Oh okay, Carolyn was with her. I left.” She filled me in. “I didn’t know those people.”
“Well, I’m glad you did!” I smiled.
“Can I come to your room later?” she asked abruptly. “I wish I could go now and sleep with you tonight, but I promised the girls I’d be here when they got back.”
“Or course you can.” I quickly responded. “I didn’t expect this at all—I understand.”
“Me neither—I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you beyond missing.” I said, gently kissing her lips. “How do you plan on getting to my hotel?”
“I was going to walk.”
“It’s pretty cold out there, babe.”
“I’ll be fine—I just don’t know how to get to your place.”
“How about you text me ten minutes before you’re ready to leave and I’ll meet you downstairs so we can walk together?” I offered. “How’s that sound?”
“That sounds perfect! Can you just meet me in the lobby in about four hours—at five thirty?”
“Five thirty?” I joked. “Piece of cake!”
She broke into laughter before coming into my arms. We continued to hold each other on her bed, fading in and out of consciousness, before she fought off contemplations of leaving with me at that very moment. She had been up the night before tending to Andrew so I thought it would selfish to stay. Seeing how the alcohol slowly worked it depressive effects on her, I brought my lips upon the top of her forehead.
“Get some rest, babe.” I spoke. “I’ll be in the lobby by five thirty. Ok?”
“I love you forever.” She whispered with her eyes closed. “Let me know when you make it back to your room, please.”
“I will. I love you forever.” I replied, kissing her lips one more time before leaving her room.
When I made it back to my room ten minutes later, I texted her.
ME: “Made it back. Goodnight sweetheart. I love you. Sweet dreams.”
ANYA: “I love you too! Goodnight!”
I tried to close my eyes to fall asleep, but the adrenaline flowing through me stole away any chance of that happening. Nearly two years later, a single moment with Anya felt just as great as the night we first met. Gratitude filled me for the chance to reconnect with her—a huge statement about her love and belief in us. There was no way she’d allow San Francisco to take place without knowing she was better off with me. The reason she told me not to get my hopes up was so she knew I was coming to see her for the right reasons—out of love. Whether she chose to believe it or not—at least subconsciously she knew what Jackson was all about—a man who used sex to ease stress, and not out of love. To know he was a larger pig than she was willing to ever admit, I felt more justified by my actions. The bottom line is that I loved Anya and if I felt anything less, I would’ve never chosen to be in her life—let alone give her any of the grief I did. Afraid I’d fall asleep right through a hotel alarm clock I had little faith in, I woke up at a quarter to five and left the room a half hour earlier than anticipated. I sat in the hotel’s lobby for fifteen minutes before Anya sent me a text at five twenty to tell me she was on her way down to the lobby—she was just as excited as I was.
ANYA: “On your way?”
ME: “I just got here, babe. Whenever you’re ready, come on down.”
ANYA: “On my way!”
I waited in her hotel lobby with an anticipation I’ve not felt in what seemed forever—anxious to build on all that transpired hours earlier. I didn’t expect any of this before I got in my car to drive to San Francisco—especially her desire to be in my arms in bed with me. All I expected was a chance to have a nice dinner together followed by a conversation afterwards. But based on what happened between us already, it seemed the conversation was a moot point. I’m sure she wanted to have a serious conversation as much as I did but not if it would steal from what we’ve shared or what is yet to be shared. When she came down to meet me in the lobby, she looked as beautiful as ever as a huge smile broke upon a face that glowed—a look that showed me this moment together would be one to be remembered forever.
Walking hand in hand, on a cold forty-five-degree July morning in San Francisco, I felt nothing but warmth as we strode in unison back to my hotel room. Anya rubbed my left arm with her free hand as we held each other close walking down the street together. We then crossed paths with a man holding a sign with extremely small lettering. Whatever the message was, no matter how early he tried to get it out there, it didn’t have much of a chance making it to the people anyway. I laughed internally visualizing a passerby having to stop with a magnifying glass to learn what he was protesting about. We were right in the middle of downtown San Francisco, the business hub of the city, but he was the only one crazy enough to be out with us. With her hand and her eyes in mine, it made me sad no one was out with us because it made me proud to be with her in public—a couple in their eyes. When we got to my hotel, we wasted no time picking up where we left off just hours earlier. She then fell asleep in her arms and I did the same—finally at peace with each other.
When I awoke an hour later, it shocked me she was in my arms—she was as comfortable sleeping with as a blanket was. When we awoke, we couldn’t keep our hands and lips off of each other; as if we were never “BU’d” for even a day. Not only were we now back to the start, but back where we belonged. Felling Anya’s love for me once again and without any uncertainty, I could tell she missed every part of me. She tried to hide her true intentions for this trip as much as I tried to hide mine from her in Las Vegas—it felt like I had won the lottery rediscovering our connection again. I had been in San Francisco with her for about twelve hours and already the trip was a resounding success. It just made me feel that much worse for all the grief I gave her—there was no question this woman loved me and that’s why I pushed back as hard as I did—hoping she realized the importance behind having each other. We weren’t about wrecking a home, or hurting people, we were the reason why people should believe in love and to never settle for less than true bliss. For our love to have any chance at all, we needed to feel each other again and I loved her so much for knowing that. I tried to let her run the show, not because I didn’t want to, but so she could see how much this love meant for her to have. If she didn’t think what we had was special, she would’ve never asked me to come up. Her life mattered too. I had to let her initiate things because she wouldn’t be able to deny how she truly felt about me, and about us. By giving us a chance, she recognized her faults too and the beauty of that is she didn’t have to tell me that at all—she showed me that. Her ability to see how I could feel, her empathy, told me the narcissist that Jackson brought out of her was not even remotely close to who she really was—I did change her forever. With every touch, she understood my emotional breakdown was the result of a situation that she hadn’t changed yet, and for her to love me in this manner, with so much affection and purpose, proved her heart forgave me. With the good feelings I built up before the trip, aided by the medication and therapy visits, these positive thoughts would only grow from here—her love breathing life into all that was ever possible. With the worst days now behind us and the truth about the strength of her feelings for me revealing themselves without restraint, we could move forward without holding any grudges.
At about nine that morning, after our most meaningful morning together, we walked back to her hotel, but opted not to hold hands since people were walking about. I gave her a warm hug in her hotel lobby and we said our goodbyes. When I got back to the hotel, I crashed landed on my bed but could not close my eyes for the life of me. All the pain and loneliness I felt for the last two months floated away in thin air replaced by gratitude and contentment.
At around noon, my phone’s red light started to blink.
ANYA: “Anyway u can try to move our reservation to 7:30? If no availability, no problem.”
ME: “Ok, I’ll call right now.”
When I read her text, I surmised her schedule opened up a bit for her and she wanted to spend some more time with me if possible. When I called Kuleto’s, they easily moved our reservation to 7:30.
ME: “Hi babe. I was able to move up our reservation to 7:30.”
ANYA: “Just wanted to give you a heads-up bout tonite. I can’t stay out late cuz we are all waking up at 3:30 a.m. and I want to be well rested. Hope u understand.”
ME: “I totally understand.”
I felt bad she even had to mention it, but after a beautiful morning together and having to walk on eggshells around me, I’m sure she worried I might not understand. Although I felt a little disheartened by it, I totally understood why. She skipped her carb loading meal with the girls and it was a big deal—I was grateful just to have dinner with her. After this morning, she deserved nothing but my understanding.
Later that afternoon, she texted me again.
ANYA: “Getting nervous.”
ME: “Why nervous, babe?”
ANYA: “I’m sure it won’t happen but you never know. What if we run into someone I know? What should I say? Old friend from high school?”
A dinner at Kuleto’s, the place I met Jackson on a business lunch, provided the real possibility for such a scenario. He was popular at the restaurant and even the hostesses knew who he was. For all we knew, Jackson could be on his way up north with their kids in tow—he was watching her like a hawk. Unfortunately, I couldn’t dismiss her concerns, one I never considered when I made the reservation.
ME: “I think that’s a good idea, or a new client or business associate.”
ANYA: “What’s your name?”
ME: “How about Rich Hopkins? I’ll even throw in a British accent for good measure.”
ANYA: “Ok Rich!”
Anya suddenly seemed a little skittish—like she would be if she were home. It surprised me mostly because she never addressed these concerns after she asked me if I wanted to have dinner with her. Usually after a beautiful morning together, she’d send me a text telling me she loved our time together, but she only asked me to move up the reservation then told me she couldn’t stay out late. Did she know something I didn’t? Was she having regrets? Her sudden nervousness worried me a little bit. I took my Zoloft pill for the day and focused on the positives to get me through the quiet afternoon before dinner.
Having a few hours to kill, I jumped in the shower, got dressed and then went out to have lunch. After having a turkey sandwich, I stopped off at a nearby convenience store for a bottle of water and a bag of almonds to snack on. Just as I was entering the store, Anya and Debbie passed by me on their way out of it. When I saw them, a smile broke out upon my face—the universe was definitely on my side. Wanting so bad to grab her hand and kiss her but knowing I couldn’t, I hoped we could talk for a few minutes. Instead of stopping, they seemed shocked and waved as they walked quickly by me and continued on their way, presumably back to her hotel. Although it stung, I figured Anya likely told Debbie and Carolyn I was leaving today so they wouldn’t think she ditched them to have dinner with me instead. After all we shared just six hours earlier could there be any reason other than that. Also, she had told Debbie we were broken up so why would she do anything more than wave and walk away? After they disappeared into a crowd of people I’ve never met in my life, it made me a little sad knowing her hand was just in mine on the same sidewalk. Knowing that in a perfect world, she could’ve jumped into my arms in front of them all, like anyone else who loved someone could do. After our tremendously beautiful morning together, positive thoughts soon overcame the sadness of the situation. Although the day brought with it a different version of her, I felt better knowing a dream would come true later this evening.
After I got back to the hotel with my water and almonds, Anya sent me an instant message.
ANYA: “Sorry I didn’t stop. I was startled.”
ME: “No worries, babe! Nice to see you though!”
ANYA: “Uh huh! How was your day. Do you regret coming up here?”
ME: “I had a beautiful night and morning with you. I’m good and relaxed. No regrets whatsoever!”
ANYA: “Ok. I’m glad u came up and glad you’re relaxed.”
After what we shared this morning, it startled me she would ask if I regretted coming up to San Francisco. Sure, she seemed a little different this afternoon, but dinner would resolve any anxieties I was feeling. She proved the depth of her love for me this morning, and I had to focus on the chance she gave us to reconnect. All the pieces were coming together for us to be one with each other again, but I could not risk chipping any of her away by forming my own conclusions because of the loneliness I felt. She then sent a text that instantly brought a smile to my face.
ANYA: “It was nice to be in your arms again.”
ME: “I loved having you in them again. I loved and cherished every second of last night and this morning.”
ANYA: “Me too.”
After our brief textchange, the Anya who left my hotel room six hours earlier made a reappearance after weathering the storm of her concerns. I didn’t expect last night and this morning to happen, but it did. Now, enjoying the rest of our time together in a city we made memories in, took precedence over any serious talk. She told me this trip would be a “pinky swear” good time, and after all we shared already, it was better to keep it that way. While my parents celebrated their thirty-ninth wedding anniversary and my friends celebrated our twentieth-year high school reunion, here I was in San Francisco celebrating a day I dreamt about for two years—to have a dinner date with the love of a lifetime.
Coming up to San Francisco was proof that if you fought for and willed them to happen, that hopes, wishes and dreams could come true. That nothing was impossible if you believed in love. Spending more time than usual hoping to look handsome enough to be seen with her, I couldn’t wait to feel enormously proud to be out with her in a public place—as if we were a couple. After our morning together, I felt neither fearful or nervous about dinner with her. There was no way any conversation at dinner would be anything less than playful banter between two people who wanted so badly to reconnect. We promised each other it would be a “pinky swear” night and she already proved to me it would be nothing less. She didn’t want a serious conversation as much as I wanted one—we could save it, if it was needed, when we returned home. The fifteen hundred dollars I spent on this trip was worth every penny because of the moments of a lifetime we shared. Now, here was another milestone, a dream achieved, a nice dinner together. The very thought of sitting across from her made me incredibly proud—I couldn’t wait to flirt with her too—a change from what she was used to. This dinner and the entire trip, was one we’d never forget—the moment of a lifetime that saved our love. Something we’d look back on years from now, if we married, giving us a reason to visit San Francisco each year. I then recalled my parents spent their honeymoon in San Francisco—a strange coincidence that I found beauty in the same city they did, encapsulating everything right about our love.
After slipping on a pair of slacks with a dark green Hugo Boss shirt that exposed my biceps a little more than I anticipated, I grabbed my room key and bank card before closing the door behind me to brave the brisk Frisco air once more. I then hailed down a taxi to take me to Kuleto’s. On my way to the restaurant, she texted me.
ANYA: “Wearing jeans.”
ME: “Wearing slacks! See you soon!”
I guess she feared I may overdress and didn’t want me to, but Anya’s jeans were dressy more than they were casual. Although I would’ve loved to see her in a black cocktail dress, I’m sure there would be another time, hopefully at Valentino’s—another place we dreamt of having dinner at.
Unable to handle the anticipation, I arrived at the restaurant a half hour early. While waiting in the reception area, Anya sent me a text.
ANYA: “U here yet? On my way.”
ME: “I’m here.”
ANYA: “Almost there!”
A dream nearly two years in the making had finally arrived—a dinner date at a nice restaurant. What seemed small to the outside world, was a huge victory for us both. We’ve come such a long hard way to be here just to achieve one of our hopes, wishes and dreams. As I sat waiting for Anya’s arrival, I imagined many nights like this, sitting across from her with a menu in my hand and a smile on my face. After this morning, everything and anything was possible. I then fantasized having dinner with her, after leaving behind a lighted Eiffel tower under a bright Paris moon, wearing my ring while she perused her menu—instead of the one that weighed her down. I then replayed a lot of the moments we shared in my mind. From the first night we met, to the night she asked me to fight for her. From Laguna Beach to Our beach. From the saved texts I sent her when she was in New York City to her pony tail dancing behind her when she showed up at my apartment at five in the morning. To the tears she cried in Canada over a phone that died to the ultimate love and trust she showed me in San Diego. Her face touched my mind, forcing a smile in front of strangers who looked at me oddly—but I didn’t care. I had never been more in love with her than I was at this moment. When I thought about the contrast to the last trip I took up north to be with someone—I smiled even more. If Sacramento led to San Francisco, then the pain was all worth it. I just couldn’t wait to have a real date with her—we were more together on this night than we ever have been before. Knowing that made me grin from ear to ear—I was finally worth a damn in this life. I meant something. The wait was over for me—I was having a dinner date with the girl who was even better than the girl of my dreams.
When she arrived, her beauty left me breathless, like she did the night I met her in Laguna Beach—the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I saw the heads turn, and unfaithful eyes follow her as she approached me, her dark feathered hair flowing to the middle of her back while gracing the front of her forehead. I could tell she felt a little uneasy, unable to smile with eyes that moved cautiously outside of mine, so we did not embrace. Jackson Caiaphas was held in high regard here, and I had to respect that she was Anya Caiaphas. Yes, this was a dinner date, but no one but us knew that—I had to protect her. I then informed the hostess my “other party” had arrived, and she walked us immediately to our table. As we ambled through the restaurant, it was certainly filled with distinguished people that exuded an aura of sophistication and class. Anya easily fit in but I felt a bit out of place. When we reached our table, it lacked both a romantic and private feel, but we were together to have dinner, and that meant the world to me. I waited for Anya to be seated before I took my chair. Our waiter immediately came to our table and handed us our menus and a wine list. I adroitly ordered a glass of wine for both Anya and myself, a difference from our first date two years earlier when I couldn’t tell a wine list from a menu. I knew she had to get back early and was a little nervous, so we quietly looked over the menus and decided our entrees before trying to comfortably engage each other. Anya dared me to order pasta, and I almost did but they had a chicken parmesan dish I couldn’t pass up. I then found myself watching her dark eyes peruse the menu before they gently swept up into mine, like a leaf blown off the ground by a soft breeze.
“What?” she whispered, catching me in the act.
“Oh, nothing.” I replied. “Just admiring your beauty.”
“You’re too sweet.” She said, a small smile breaching upon her face.
Anya wanted to order a vegan dish they had and after giving both of our orders to the waiter, I handed both menus back to the waiter and thanked him. Anya seemed to be surprised by my gesture, and it surprised me only because Jackson never seemed to do that for her either. I hoped she saw how, unlike her husband who used to flirt with the waitresses in front of her, I’d never take her for granted. That the most important thing in my life sat right across from me, and I’d be the gentleman she always deserved to have in a restaurant.
“You look very handsome tonight.” she said. “Thank you for meeting me here.”
Her kind words hit me hard—having the most beautiful woman in the entire restaurant tell me I looked very handsome meant the world to me.
“On the way to our table, I took a good look around the restaurant.” I informed her. “Do you know what I learned?”
“No?” She responded, her eyes looking around her.
“That I’m the luckiest man alive because I’m having dinner with the most beautiful woman here tonight.” I told her, then looking around like she did before saying. “And it’s not even close.”
“You always make me feel special. Thank you.”
All I could think about were all the times she got dressed up, and Jackson made her feel anything but beautiful while he flirted with the waitresses in her presence.
“No—thank you. Thank you for such a beautiful morning.” I replied. “I didn’t expect that at all.”
“I didn’t either.” she said. “I guess I missed you a lot.”
“The feeling is beyond mutual.” I said, as the waiter put our salads down in front of us. “Have you been to this restaurant before?”
“Several times.” she said, as we placed the cloth napkins on our laps. “Have you?”
“I was here last year for a business lunch.”
“I see.” She said, as she started to eat her salad.
“How’s Andrew feeling, babe?”
“He’s feelin’ better—he had a real high temperature the night before I left.”
“Were you having second thoughts of coming up because he got so sick?”
“I did.” she said. “His temperature was normal the next morning so I felt better about coming up.”
I nodded with a smile as I sunk my fork into my salad—I was really hungry but excited at the same time to be having dinner with her. All I could do was revel in the moment—it all seemed so surreal.
“How are you feeling?” she inquired, her eyes down on her salad. “Did this morning set you back at all?”
“I feel great, Sweetheart.” I assured her, while picking at my salad. “Not at all.”
I didn’t analyze her question at all—the exact opposite of what I would’ve done before I started taking Zoloft. I knew it was asked out of love.
“I was worried what happened this morning could set you back.”
“I think the therapy and the medication is working.” I explained, picking a small cherry tomato from my salad and into my mouth. “I feel different but in a very good way. Unlike moments we’d share when we’re at home, I knew I would see you tonight so maybe it’s unfair for me to say “it’s working” just yet, but I feel it is. You know, I feel more positive about things—especially about us. I know I misinterpreted things and therapy has helped me with that.”
“I didn’t expect things to happen the way they did last night or even this morning.” she announced. “Like I just said…I’ve missed you very much.”
“I’ve missed you very much too.” I said, withdrawing my fork from my salad to wipe my mouth and to look at her.
“But I hope it didn’t give you false hope.”
When I heard these words, it seemed the Zoloft had retreated from me, overwhelmed by a neurotransmitter that screamed for vengeance. I brought my fork back inside my salad bowl and tried to ignore the sting of her words as dread threatened to penetrate my heart and mind.
“Oh.” I replied, trying to give her an answer that wouldn’t give any insight into how her question made me feel. “I understand it’s too soon—the medication hasn’t even set in yet. I should have to prove myself to you. I guess I felt hopeful we could get back together after this morning, but it’s too soon still.”
Although her words cut me deep and left me disheartened, for me to be so hopeful wouldn’t have been fair to her. I needed to prove myself to her that moments like we shared this morning wouldn’t wreck me when she left. The true test would have to come when we return back home because I simply knew when I’d see her again being in San Francisco with her. When I considered her question in that regard, then it hurt a lot less.
“Even if you were better.” Anya spoke, as she wiped her mouth then looked into my eyes. “I couldn’t get back together with you, Landyn.”
Her decisive statement left me in such a state of shock, my stomach instantly felt queasy, like I had just woken up after being under anesthesia. All the positive thoughts, I thought the Zoloft aided me to have, disappeared into nothingness—like me. There was no way now I’d be able to finish my dinner. I then did everything in my power to hide from her how far my heart had sunk into the pit of my stomach.
“Ok.”
“I want you to find someone else and fall in love again.” she continued, while consuming her salad at the same time. “And live a happy life.”
I looked around for help in a public place as I couldn’t believe what I was hearing while reliving my trip up to Sacramento with Denise. What transpired before me, from this morning up until this moment, captured all the reasons why I broke down on her enough to feel I had to talk to Jackson. How she allowed and encouraged me to feel the greatest love I’d ever known just to be able to take it away from me. If this wasn’t a form of emotional abuse on display, in a public place that denied me to respond appropriately, I didn’t know what was. The worst part being she had more to say.
“That’s a really sweet thought, but I would never fall in love again.” I told her. “This is it for me.”
“What are you talkin’ about? Why wouldn’t you just move on?” she retorted. “Why wouldn’t you move on and let me go? Go on with your life?”
I felt she had just ransacked all the love I had left in me—taking all of it and leaving none for anyone else. After our morning together—I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I felt she had just left me for dead and that my life was ending before my very eyes. I then realized, she asked me to come up to San Francisco so she could break me down and end us for good. The fact she did this in a public place spared her my emotions if they got out of hand. Without her kids around, she could end us without them being able to see how it affected her. I guess she just wanted to connect one more time with me before pulling the plug away from home.
As bad as she wanted to break me to pieces, I refused to let her know how much this hurt. I expected this from Denise, but not from Anya—not from someone who loved and missed me. How could she be so unaffected by living the rest of her life without me—enough to tell me these things while eating a meal nonetheless? She couldn’t have been in love with me—a person in love with me would never be brave to give up on me. After allowing me to feel all the hope in the world, she threatened to kill me. I now began to regret my decision to come to San Francisco—turning her promise of a “pinky swear” weekend it into anything but.
As I tried to come up with a response that didn’t give me away, our main entrees mercifully arrived.
“It looks delicious!” she said. “Bon Appetit!”
“Bon Appetit!” I obliged, doing my best to play along.
I couldn’t believe she had just snatched away what should’ve been a special moment for us. One she told me she hoped, wished and dreamt of, and turned it into the most hopeless evening even I couldn’t have imagined.
Our conversation lightened up while we ate our meals, and the rest of the dinner date went well from that point on, but I couldn’t shake what she told me—that even if I were better, she would not get back together with me. I never finished my dinner but I took a bite of a piece of raspberry cheesecake together before I paid the bill and exited Kuleto’s. We then decided to take a taxi together and go back to her hotel for a few minutes. We kissed while in the cab, but at that point I believed the wine had forced her into it. I then walked her up to her room with a mind that couldn’t think straight. Before she went back inside her room, she told me she wanted to spend the night with me but was afraid she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She then thanked me for dinner, I wished her good luck on her race tomorrow, we kissed once more, and embraced each other before she disappeared inside. When her hotel room door shut, it seemed to signify something a lot greater. I stood and stared at her hotel room door for five minutes as I hoped she might come out, to tell me she made a huge mistake, but she never did. Unable to trust or even feel anymore, I then headed back to my hotel—more lost than I’ve ever been in my life. Miraculously, I kept my sadness away from her consciousness, and pretended what she said at dinner didn’t affect me at all, but it broke me into pieces. A trip that should’ve only carried the fondest of memories for a lifetime would only haunt me for the rest of my days. Her words at dinner really shouldn’t have surprised me—even the morning was unpredictable and I shouldn’t have expected anything less but her inconsistency. I just didn’t think she would’ve chosen that particular time to tell me what she did—a time that should’ve been one of the happiest of our lives.
I’ve had a lot of lonely moments in my life, a lot of lonely walks and trips, but nothing ever made me feel more alone than this—the kind of moments of a lifetime reserved for a man like me. My trip to San Francisco felt even worse than the one I made to Sacramento years earlier with Denise. But when I considered why she and Debbie didn’t even stop to talk to me when I saw them at the convenience store earlier, it all made better sense. I didn’t know what other proof I needed to know that I was used so she could feel love again. I’m not saying she didn’t love me, but her form of love was not the same as mine, nor as I was led to believe. She loved me out of guilt, but she was not in love with me, and I had to make a six-hour drive to learn something I already knew.
Drowning in negativity, I led Anya to believe I took a taxi but decided to walk back to my hotel instead. Ghosts of us surrounded me as I walked in the coldest of nights by myself, unable to determine if I shook from the frigid windy air or the uneasiness and hopelessness that nestled inside of me—there was no recovering from this. Anya only wanted my love when it was convenient for her and she only wanted the love I was willing to give her—it’s shape and form having a much different meaning than the love I felt for her.
As I continued to walk for what seemed like an eternity, Anya sent me an IM.
ANYA: “U home?”
ME: “Almost. I decided to walk.”
ANYA: “Frozen?”
ME: “I’m home now. Nice and warm.😊”
ANYA: “Oh good! Thank u again for dinner! I had a great time! Goodnight!”
I couldn’t believe she told me she had a great time. I guess I did a pretty good job of hiding how her words made me feel. I did have fun with her, but I would be lying to her if I told her I had a great time. I went into therapy and on medication to be the man she needed me to be and instead, she tells me I’m not in love with you because of it. She couldn’t even love me enough to see how giving me hope in the morning and taking it away in the evening was why I needed to seek help. She may have loved me, but she was no longer in love with me and there was nothing I could do but contemplate if I had a further reason to live.
ME: “You’re most welcome. Thank you for the honor. Goodnight.”
After I sent her this text, I didn’t hear back from her. I then started to think of the song “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” and I started to realize how lucky that guy was not to lose it. On my final night in San Francisco, a night that felt like the final one of my life, the only moment I’ll remember was falling asleep on a cold hard tile floor at the foot of the door instead of the warm soft bed I paid for.