how bizarre

with all this talk of exes and crushes lingering like an undying moth to his flame, it's interesting that one of my more fervent admirers happened to stop by the coffeeshop today.

he's married now, he's got a different life now. when I knew him, he was still a warm pool of tar, now he is formed and claimed and set. this has given him a sense of weight and calm. amazing, considering his mind makes people suffering with attention deficit disorder look normal. you can still see that in his eyes, everything else is tamed, but his eyes still shrink and wrap around each word like a squirrel testing each possible morsel of food. his brain attaches all the connotations and then pilfers through them for the right one and frequently is interrupted by impatient conversationalists wanting to move on. this sounds bad, but if you have the right levers and pulls of patience, it can be quite a lovely thing to converse with him. which is what I liked about him.

imagine: he arrives in a convoy of people just released from the church services or bible study group of a nearby religious group. his eyes find mine instantly. his warmth cremates the air. there was never anyone that knew me more or better than he. and yet. the group forms a line and he sits off to the side, watching my movements, giving me that feeling of absolute unsettledness and yet the delight of someone taking an interest in me. I take orders, make drinks, attempt to largely ignore his presence, until his wife comes to his side and excitedly (she actually likes me and isn't threatened by me at all, which I find a little unrealistic and a little endearing) clamors to her husband about my return to the coffeeshop. they had no idea I was there. i had no idea he still went to that stupid church.

finally, he is last in line and he comes to the register to greet me, his wife at his side, and I like that I notice they look good together, they look happy. I am glad for him, this guy, who once felt it impertinent to ask me to marry him, to sleep with me on the floor of my apartment those months when I didn't have a bed, and a million other things I probably was too callous to notice, because I knew long before he did that there was no way he and I could be together. but he was convinced, and I let him keep those convictions.

we talk, his wife and he and I. we play catch up since the last time we saw each other, and his wife goes to talk to someone else and it isn't until then that I look into his eyes, and I see the same mirth and joy he held for me those many years ago. this also makes me glad to know that I did not lose his love to anger or regret, but it turned a different corner and kept itself resigned to a different strain.

they sit and I relax a little, restoring tidiness to the cluttered counters. It is no surprise to me that they two are the nucleus of the circle and the conversation waxes and wanes about them like bursts of light. but eventually, he returns. i burn in a bright way for him. our conversation style, the kind we used to share late into the night, the kind we had to decipher constantly, the kind that is full of references that mean something only to us, also returned. it is a strange thing to be in the middle of so many things and still have a completely profound conversation with someone who just wants the best for you and you for him. it is a little surreal. and it makes you feel like maybe you're not the only one with such a craving for meaningfulness.

in our five minute conversation, we retraced the steps of this year, we planned out the next five--separately. he gave me a contact of a place that might be willing to launch my comic book class for kids. I reset my levers and pulls for his mind, the gift of patience, a chance to be heard. and we made self referential elbow nudging jokes about each other. he even managed to acknowledge me in such a weighted way that my ordinary life seems complete the way it is and the way it isn't.

how did I lose this man from my life? time. being busy. knowing that there are certain people for whom it is too painful to be around. for both of us. so. it is unlikely I will be able to skate on his surface without some kind of intent and I can't find one that isn't a revisitation of our chemical dependence. so perhaps we will share some limited contact in various ways and it will be for the best. and I will know that there is another someone out there that wants the best for me, no matter who I've been or who I become.

stine