Seasons

The tall, slender man in all black standing at the farthest point of the room approached no one but welcomed everyone. I took the bait. His deep black eyes stared into mine—void of color but as refreshing as the summer popsicles I used to enjoy, unbothered as cherry rolled down my hand. I licked my lips; he cleared his throat. As I begin to speak, he interrupted. His tone was not urgent. Twenty-thousand dollars. My heart rate increased as I took a step back. I’ve never been here, but this felt familiar. I begin to walk away and heard him again—slightly lower than before—twenty thousand dollars. My hand slightly trembled as I turned around, more aware of my body than I had been since Jenny. I placed my drink to the right of his small black notebook. He glanced. I took a deep breath, sipped my drink, and returned it slightly closer to my side of the table. He began to speak—I interjected. Do you know Jenny?

He asked me to tell him a story. As frustration gently covered my palms, my heart whispered its vow to keep the promise it made when I first met her. The night was young, but I was beginning to tire. I locked her memory away, but she was right—we will always be. He cleared his throat with an insistence that demanded a response. I matched his tone; how do you know Summer? He softly touched the brim of his hat and reached for his notebook. Reflexive, I quickly reached toward him! Unbothered, he gently patted the small black notebook, clearing the contents of my drink. Embarrassed, I said, “twenty-thousand dollars could change my life.” With his countenance slightly softer, he slowly blinked, “tell me a story.” The room felt cold. I pulled at my jacket, looked down at the red carpet, and asked the question that had no answer. He waited until he could see my eyes. I began.

I can’t really remember the beginning. We always were and will always be. With knots in my stomach, I glanced at my watch. He was patient. The middle was difficult, but that is where we fell in love. She would say that to fall in love is to ignore the journey, but there’s beauty in falling. I wiped a tear before it fell from my eye. I’d rather swim than sink. We held our breath as long as we could. Air is necessary for survival—I had to let go. She needed to fly, but I was not ready. She let go. I was not ready. She smiled at me and said there’s beauty in the journey. Still, I was not ready. Again, I asked, how do you know Summer? He cleared his throat and began.

I can’t recall the middle, but the beginning was beautiful. That is where we fell in love. I knew that Autumn was a new beginning. In her arms, yesterday didn’t exist, and eternity felt like the present. His dark eyes appeared reflective as her memory graced his soul. He glanced down to refocus. I would get lost in her, but her gaze would always remind me that she was the journey and not the destination. She belonged to another—she was not my ending. We stared at each other in silence.

I reached for my drink. He glanced at the table—the notebook was dry. A piece of my story permanently affixed to his. We were always connected; I think we both knew. He opened the notebook and wrote an address. As he walked away, almost inaudibly but clearer than before—“I hope it changes your life.”