Chris sat alone on a solitary bench, overlooking the Mississippi river at Woldenberg Park. He watched the occasional jogger dart past as sounds of children playing around a nearby Cypress tree echoed, mixed with a melody from a trumpeter playing for tips by the levee.
His head and body were still physically exhausted by way of the one week (seemingly, to him, a year and a half of a wonderful world) The ride from which he'd just disembarked was dizzying in retrospect.
An occasional tourist ambled past, snapping memories on their cameras and cell phones with St. Louis Cathedral as the backdrop, while a couple of homeless men slept soundly under a cluster of trees just up from the riverbanks.
The late afternoon sun felt good to Chris; it shone like a heavenly spotlight as he absorbed the warmth and richness that it held. It was a feeling that had been long absent from his mind and in his heart on this trek.
Chris laughed to himself, sifting through what was real and what was imagined. It seemed real, he reasoned. He missed Thomas and wondered if he'd ever actually meet a friend in real life who meant so much to him as Thomas did. Thomas was anyone and everyone who you rooted for, Chris lovingly thought.
A dog?? I can understand taking pills. blacking out and dreaming a bunch of crazy shit, but HOW explicit can one’s subconscious be? Those must have been some good fuckin' pills, Chris mused.
A dog…with a name! He laughed.
Chris couldn’t explain what he’d seen for the hours that he lay unconscious on the sidewalk and the subsequent days in the hospital where he lie just short of death's door. Maybe it was a drugged out, drunken vision, maybe not, but it certainly felt real enough to him. It changed his world. His outlook.
It made him, oddly, feel whole again.
His mind opened to new possibilities, new dreams…a rebirth, of sorts.
The mind is funny, just as the doc had explained. It stores information and logic, available at a moment’s notice. Information and thought processes that get us through each day, consciously and involuntary. It’s a cradle of facts and, for some, an abundance of common sense. It plays tricks, it conceals, it’s mysterious and complex.
Chris’ mind had been burdened for far too long, he thought. Could have, should have and would have were wasted words to him now. Why grow old asking "What if?" Take the fucking chance.
So many people wish for another yesterday. For some, it’s to re-live a successful day from their past. Others wish to right a wrong or to correct a misstep. But, yesterday is gone forever. And the present, Chris realized, is a time to create a new day. To look back and savor the good times, but to learn from mistakes and to move forward, as though tomorrow may never come. Fresh starts.
Full Circle.
Life really is THAT simple; it’s one’s mindset and actions which overcomplicate things.
It'd be easy to sit on that park bench and beat himself to a pulp about the past, or to fret over the long, winding road ahead.
But, Chris smiled, remembering one thing...he always enjoyed road trips.
It's never too late, until it IS.
The scenery is the best part. Sometimes detours take you to interesting places, filled with fascinating sights. Places which are inhabited by equally fascinating people. For THIS trip, the only road map needed is a curious mind and zest for adventure.
An elderly gentleman passed by with a beautiful golden retriever. Chris smiled to himself, again, as his thoughts drifted like the mighty Mississippi River in front of him. A dog, a 7-year old, TWO exes, a new love interest (out of left field) and a reformed gang member? Seems normal. Those were good pills. Chris shook his head, replaying his adventure with disbelief.
His thoughts suddenly shifted. "...Marie," he whispered, rising from the bench.
Chris hesitantly entered the pub across town and took a seat at the end of the bar.
"...Where the HELL have you been??? What the FUCK, CHRIS? I’ve been calling you like fucking crazy!" Marie demanded, yelling from the far end of the bar.
"I had a -thing- for a few days," Chris sheepishly answered.
"Jesus Christ, I was worried SICK for over a WEEK, Chris! I couldn't sleep or eat. I was a nervous wreck!"
"And that’s different from any other day in what way?" Chris nonchalantly asked.
"Very funny," she snapped, slapping the top of his hand. Marie raced from around the bar to give Chris a tight hug, kissing his cheek.
"Whatcha drinkin’ baby?"
"I’ll take a cup of coffee."
"Coffee?"
"Yep, coffee," he reiterated. "...Me and booze are going through a nasty divorce right now," he quipped.
Marie returned with Chris’ coffee and propped her elbows on the bar top, directly in front of his cup; her head rested in her hands.
"...I'm really SO glad you’re okay," Marie sighed with a smile. "...No more fucking crazy! You need a hobby!" She scolded.
What kinda hobby? Chris perked up with a curious laugh. "....I dunno, painting? Fishing? Photography? WAIT... you have media experience. You write your news shit and stuff on their boring website. You should write a story! OH! I know! A BOOK?" She anxiously suggested.
"What kinda book?" Chris scoffed.
Marie thought for a moment. "...well, certainly NOT a romantic one," she laughed.
"...WHAT? Why do you say THAT?" Chris indignantly snapped. "...You think I'm damaged goods???" Chris nervously asked.
Marie smiled widely and placed her hand on Chris' shoulder. "...Babe! Don't take it so seriously. I'm just saying, Rom-Com doesn't seem like a talent dripping outta your mind," she teased.
"I can be fucking romantic!" Chris quickly defended. "...I have romantic pulsating through my bloodstream! I just hide it," He boasted.
"Reeeally?" Marie laughed.
"...laugh all you want. You know what? Give me a setup, a scenario, right now, and I'll come up with the most romantic shit you've ever heard; DRIPPING with so much Goddamn love that you'll need a cigarette, a mop, an Uber or Lyft of shame-- and a shower!" Chris promised.
"...Wow., that sounds SO romantic already. I can certainly now understand why you're single. You gonna make Totinos pizza rolls while we sip Mountain Dew Code Red and play Xbox afterwards?" Marie sarcastically teased.
"...Yeah? Just gimme the scene, and I'll bring the magic, babe," Chris assured.
Marie laughed. "...Okay, Shakespeare. I'm gonna go super romantic on your ass. With complicated twists!
"...Trust me, complicated twists have not been lost upon me lately," Chris quickly shot back.
"...okay, here goes," Marie began. "...So, the male character struck up a chance relationship with someone he NEVER thought of as a possible love interest. Serendipity. "...Is she a hooker?" Chris interrupted.
"Stop it!" Marie snapped. "...The chemistry was there; the connection was magic, the friendship and emotions were real. It was sweet and the romanticism was heavenly, like neither had ever experienced. BUT, the timing was off; life got in the way and they both went their separate ways after a year or so, for whatever reason."
"STOP!" Chris interrupted. "...Is this one of your unrealistic Hallmark Channel movies? Where did they GO? WHAT and WHY and how? Separate ways?? I need to see some serious validation receipts on this plotline," Chris demanded answers.
"...Why does it fucking matter? Jesus! And, yeah, it's a Hallmark movie; the guy who played the new Superman a few years ago, who loves Jesus a lot now, was in it. I'm hoping you turn it into something not as cheesy, without commercials!" Marie shot back.
"It MATTERS because you're already leaving gaping holes in the plotline!! That's not fair!" He snapped.
Marie continued. "...THIS, my dear friend, is where it gets complicated," Marie gloated, anxious to totally stump Chris.
"...I'm ready, baby! Gimme watcha got!" He confidently demanded.
"...a year has passed. They've both been on one another's minds a little bit, but dont even know how to contact one other, even if they wanted to. They're both social media and phone dead zoned, probably ghosted. Plus, she's been in a situation-ship and he's been leaning on a close friend, for guidance...Who, happens to be female. NOW, He runs into one of her friends, only he doesn't know her friend because they never officially met. BUT, SHE recognizes HIM from seeing both out on the town and on social media, back in the day. PLUS, his exe's friend always kinda had a secret thing for HIM. His exe's friend is crushin' on him in this scene."
Chris studied every word from Marie. "...What's the exe's friend's name?" He demanded.
"WHO fucking CARES?" Marie snapped back.
Chris intently pierced, directly into Marie’s eyes.
"...OKAY! Her name is Chloe; happy NOW?" Marie answered.
"...Yes, I am. Okay, then, what?" Chris impatiently prodded.
"...This friend, CHLOE, confesses that she knows who he is, by association. She goes on to tell him that his name comes up in conversation from time to time when she sees his ex and that there's trouble in paradise. She asks if he hates his ex," Marie concluded.
Chris blankly stared at Marie.
"...WHAT?" Marie laughed. "C'mon, It's a forlorn, lost connection on both sides, trouble in paradise, ex is in a settling for less, situation-ship, he's leaning on a friend who is a female for guidance (but never crossing lines) AND this rando girl is snoopin' in, definitely wanting to cross lines. If I were the ex girlfriend, by the way, I'd definitely unfriend Chloe, for fucking sure. Plus, remember, Chloe is prodding to see if he's emotionally available or unavailable"
"...What the fuck does emotionally unavailable even mean? I think that's a made-up word!" Chris scoffed.
"...Read most people's Facebook or Insta pages. You'll figure it out, it's a thing," Marie laughed. "...So, times a wastin' -- have at it, Romeo. Create the scene," Marie gleefully challenged.
"...Thats all I GET? That's a pretty fucked-up premise. Can we toss more people in there or situations?" Chris pleaded.
"...That's all you get, my love. You have to put this woman off...or entertain possibilities-- with either of the two, or no one. BUT, by expressing your current feelings...In the situation. At least your GUY character isn't in a lame, stuck situation-ship. I tried to make THAT part easy. Don’t forget, he's got a female friend being a guidance counselor, too. Could be a wildcard. Maybe he's looking to dip into the darkness side? Who knows?
There's NO wrong answer. And, I can't WAIT to hear it," Marie slyly answered.
"...I feel like I'm being set up to fail here," Chris sighed. "...Nope, I'm trying to prepare you for your new, exciting writing hobby," Marie laughed.
Chris inhaled deeply. "...I also feel like I've seen this stupid fucking movie recently."
Chris paused for a couple of minutes. "...Okay. okay, here goes," he timidly began, staring directly over Marie's shoulder to the TV for a few moments, then, down at his napkin on the bar top.
"...Hate her? Hate is a very strong word, towards anyone, Chloe. I can tell you things that are troublesome and beautiful in the same breath. I could also say the same about a job, a situation in traffic yesterday, or my Taco Bell experience today, which was deplorable, for the record. But, I didn’t hate it. I might even muster strong OR indifferent feelings in a chance meeting-- just like this one, right here, tonight. Love, hate or meh. Chloé, you and I could end up married or, we'll never see each other again. You never know how life could go, hour to hour. Pretty amazing dynamics, I think. Tom Hanks and Meg made a fortune spinning that plotline.
Each day begins like a thousand days previous, typically. You're going about your life, feed the dog or cat, walk down the street, earbuds blaring, as you've done a million times before. Not unlike THIS day. You might go meet friends for drinks after work, experience a chance encounter, order takeout...a normal day. Only, one day, outta nowhere, there's one that ends so unexpectedly, something that grabs your attention," Chris paused, taking a sip of his coffee.
"...It's exactly how she and I met...our mutual friend, the Artist Formerly Known As...true love.
It's how many people meet. These moments, along with so many others, interweave a life, a path that you don't see coming. After all, you may never see this person again when the day ends, and that's difficult to reconcile after an enjoyable encounter. Ours, though, she and I, seemed different. It turns into the NEXT day, then the next, the next and so on. Until, it stops. It just stops, Chloe. And, then what?
There's rarely second chances in our fast-paced world. So unfortunate. Or, maybe not. I can't decide.
No matter how much time has passed or who we all meet in between after it stops, everything else is white noise. It's always there, in your thoughts. No matter the stress, past baggage that reveals itself and unravels things along the way, you still feel that bond. That "next day" feeling. It somehow stays with you, at least for some. At least, for me. THAT? Well, I hate THAT, to answer your initial question. I hate that
-next day- when it just seems like a boring day, by comparison to what I've seen and felt. It's like the day AFTER Christmas.
With some connections, special ones, the weather of everyday life is the forecast which is never predictable by the wacky weatherman. That's the fun AND challenges of it...the journey is interesting like that.
Along the way, dreams, and faith, actually, perpetually fuel the bond when the weather turns nasty, as it sometimes does. You absolutely pray that it gets you BOTH through, sometimes. That it carries you through something that you just KNOW is special, yet, born of an unsuspecting, innocent chance encounter one afternoon, that turned into evening.
There's one person who comes along (if you're lucky) who seemed benign, until it seemed like the beginning of forever, in retrospect. One who couldn't possibly just be a fluke. Someone you didn't see coming.
This is a person who's often mistaken as caddy, wanderlust-- she's boisterous, playful, fun.
Misunderstood? Maybe.
But, she wears her feelings and genuine love on her sleeve; This person holds compassion like few get close enough to see.
She certainly puts her foot in her mouth...especially in settings which aren't appropriate. She throws caution to the wind, gives your cellphone number out to people who you dont want to have the number, she sneaks mini bottles of booze into inappropriate places (like a hospital) because that's actually kinda fun." Chris paused, looking back over Marie’s shoulder to the television for a moment.
He returned his focus to the napkin in front of him.
"...Alternatively, for those who DO get to know this person, when you're sitting alone? GOD, the solitary moments, in the quiet recesses, maybe in line at the grocery or in a waiting room-- reflective moments. You know? Those memories play through your mind, breaking that silence. And, then? They bring a smile to your face, to your heart. Maybe it makes you laugh. They don't seem inappropriate anymore. They're irreplaceable. They're forever."
Chris took another sip of his coffee and paused for a minute as Marie quickly tended to a customer before continuing.
"...No matter what her friends, or my friends, caution about, they bring your recollection back to precisely what endeared them to you in the first place, no matter the way things ended. One's longing and sense of place is usually misunderstood by well-intentioned friends, but it's always crystal clear to me, Chloe. My friends aren't living my life, no matter how well-intentioned their sentiment might be.
Then, there’s the brutal aftermath. Usually where one or both make unfortunate, knee-jerk missteps. They endure things in between. You ruminate about being lost in a fog of looking in every single direction as captain of your own boat rather than taking in the moment, truly being PRESENT. And, you realize that there are other passengers on that boat. The one you care most about is ON that boat AND is rooting for you."
Chris paused, again before continuing his narration.
"...You become distracted, instead of looking to what's right in front of your face, by your side. Fretting about circumstances rather than the journey. Holding up other experiences and missteps as a benchmark, wishing for second chances rather than creating your own path, along with someone special.
Then, you crash. Everything disappears, just like that.
You do so because you're paying attention to everything except what matters most. Second, third, fourth or whatever chances mean nothing if you're overlooking what's directly in front of you and become too proud or afraid to claim it.
You recall the innocence, which clearly is hiding dark life experiences and a deep street-sense that only those who get close to someone are ever allowed to glimpse. You're seated in the front row because of an earned trust. The hurt, the triumph and resilience, in spite of adversity that life hurled toward either person long before. Laughing it off, even though you KNOW that there are scars in one's past, and, yours. An internal reconciliation."
Marie tried to hide her astonishment. Her smile slowly disappeared-- her playful mission to stump Chris took on an unexpected direction. She partially covered her face with a bar rag, completely ignoring her other customers.
Chris continued. "...A person who you hurt for and WITH when they've been wronged-- Whether it be by a boss, a previous significant other, a shallow, vapid friend, past trauma or anyone or thing, for that matter. You don't stand with and behind them out of sense of obligation or duty. You do so because your heart BELONGS there. Because this person is a vital part of your life now. Again, all born of an unlikely chance day. That doesn’t just go away or turn off like a lamp. Even though, sometimes you wish that it could. It's haunting for some.
You sense the energy and atmosphere when they enter a room, even if you haven't spotted them yet. You simply feel their presence. THAT'S how you just KNOW. You know they're someone in an entirely special category."
Marie stared intently at Chris, who never looked up from his bar napkin. Her jaw partially dropped, she clung to every word.
Chris thoughtfully continued.
"...Someone who you want to create and share moments with, together, which become wonderful images in your heart that, in turn, become a part of a fabric-- for you both-- No matter where either of you end up. There's laughs, cooking together, tears and challenges, but it's still something special. It's a photo album, a book, of sorts. One that very few are fortunate enough to write, much less to live out. Then, when you go your separate ways, for whatever reason, you finish the book. You place it back on a shelf, return it to the library or safely place it in a drawer by your bed, knowing that it's there. Always.
A person my age, or anyone past age 35 actually, probably experiences three, four, maybe five people who they just KNEW that they were in love with-- even when friends or family were skeptical. But, THEN, you truly FEEL it one day. This might be someone who was hiding in plain sight.
You think for YOURSELF, for once, when you meet the ONE. It almost stirs feelings of resentment-- having wasted years on these other people. Wasting time listening to friends...When the one meant for you is right in front of you. Probably always was. But, it's part of the journey. "
Chris' tone turned softer and personally introspective.
"...When they're gone, whether temporarily or for good, it feels like a foreclosure on your dream house. It's like waking up from a dream, IN that house...with an eviction notice tacked to the front door as your neighbors judgmentally look on from across the street.
That same photo album brings sadness, even though it's so beautiful. You dont dare open that drawer where it's safely stored. It's a documented story that you never wanted to end. You just wanted to sleep forever. To never wake up...to find out how it ends, hoping for happily ever, ever and always after.
Up until that moment, Chloe? You feel like you've utterly wasted a life that God blessed you with before they entered your life.
There are few people who are lucky enough to experience what I've described. To have someone who comes into your orbit, a person you trust, implicitly. A connection where the first kiss sends butterflies through your entire body. So does the second, third and fourth. Then, the two-thousandth, three-thousandth and...then, the last kiss. The very last kiss. Before you awaken from the dream. Those kisses all still feel like the very first."
"...The twist, Chloe?" Chris continued. "...It might not have been real at all. It was something just out of reach. Perhaps, it WAS just a dream from which you were snatched away by the alarm clock, or a siren outside the window.
Chloe, I don’t hate anyone. And, I don’t hate dreams. I certainly have learned not to hate mine; I've learned that the hard way."
Chris finally looked up from his napkin. Locking eyes with Marie.
"...How could I possibly hate THAT dream, or a person like that, if I were to find them? I'd want to go back to sleep...only, with eyes wide open this time."
Marie caught her breath. She swallowed deeply, taking a sip of her water.
"...Wow. That was, um, uh. Well, that was unexpected," she nervously offered with a sigh and slight laugh.
"...I'm new to the writing hobby. Sorry I upstaged Chloe in the scene. Too much?" Chris asked.
"...Well, considering that the male character's exe's friend was hitting on him, I'd say you just detailed a manual of exactly how NOT to get laid by Chloe," Marie joked.
"...I was about to get into the part where I ask Chloe if she's interested in a threesome sexual encounter with the lead character's ex but I haven't worked out the story progression, continuity and character development yet. Who do you think should play the character in the movie, or direct it?" Chris added, nonchalantly.
"....WHY? Honestly, WHY do you have to go and fuck up the moment??? It was a beautiful moment, Chris!" Marie smacked the top of Chris' head.
Chris changed the subject, "...Listen, Marie," he carefully began. "...I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, you’ve been a good friend and I know I’ve been an impossible pain in the ass; I’m sorry."
"...Don’t worry about it, that’s what friends are for...Besides, you’ve been there for ME with my shitty drama in the past. I think we may be twins in that respect," she laughed.
Marie thoughtfully stared at Chris for a moment, thinking about the impromptu story he'd just riffed, until he awkwardly broke the silence.
"...Hey, this may sound a bit stupid," he nervously fidgeted.
"I, uh, well, I was thinking about something, and, it’s no big deal...and don’t feel obligated, It‘s just a thought, that you might not feel the same about," he stumbled.
Marie interrupted, "...Will you spit it out??"
"...Have dinner with me, tomorrow, just me and you," Chris blurted.
"Dinner? Like dinner or dinner??" She curiously pried. Marie's mind raced, trying to make sure she hadn’t misread him.
"What difference does the fucking word dinner mean? Why cant you just make this easy on me?" Chris nervously laughed.
"...What? I'm just asking which dinner you meant. Dinner or dinner?" Marie tried to, unsuccessfully, explain.
"There's TWO types of dinners?? Are you clinically insane?" Chris asked.
"...Maybe," Marie teased.
"Well," Chris hesitantly began, "...I’d like to get up, shower, go to work and, when I get off work? Cook dinner for you. For US. The participants will be you and me, my loud neighbors somewhere outside, causing me to hate the world. There will be food involved, there will, most likely, be conversation and I‘ll open doors for you…we’ll analyze what dinner means from there. Then, we MIGHT go get dessert somewhere Uptown," Chris deadpanned.
Marie smiled. "...I’d love to have dinner with you, Christopher J. Barrow." She accepted, blushing. "...What should I wear?" Marie excitedly asked.
"Oh, my God," Chris sighed, laying his head on the bar top. "...clothes. wear clothes, " Chris snapped. "...I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt."
"...PERFECT. I love your jeans and t-shirt, given up on life look," Marie smiled. She locked eyes with Chris, gently planting her palm on top of Chris' hand. Holding it there for a moment, she stared into his eyes for a few seconds before being called away.
Marie turned to grab an order down the bar where she casually passed Sally, who had just arrived for her shift. Marie wore a grin, out of Chris' sight, that beamed from ear to ear as she made eye contact with Sally.
She quickly glanced back to Chris and, again, to Sally. Sally casually peeked over Marie’s shoulder toward Chris, then back to Marie.
"...We’re having dinner, FINALLY," Marie loudly whispered, still wearing a colossal smile, excitedly rocking up and down, heel to toes.
Sally laughed as she trailed away, shaking her head.
"...Lordy, Lordy Lordy, love in the air," Sally’s thick Irish Brogue accent trailed as she disappeared behind the kitchen doors.
THUMPH!!!
The paddles reached the final high-pitched crescendo.
THUMPH!
The EKG flat lined.
"...I'm calling it; he's gone," the paramedic solemnly advised his partner.
The ambulance quietly eased in to the covered ER bay in the Garden District. No siren. A light rain shower cast an almost meditative timpani on the metal bay topper. Red and blue lights reflected against the pale tan building facade and windows at the medical center.
The attending ER doctor and Nurse Practioner greeted the paramedics out front.
"...we tried hard, doc; we lost him two blocks away. He overdosed in front of a shopfront by his house in Mid City. NOPD are still on scene. We tried so hard," the lead paramedic assured.
"...It's okay. I know you did your best," the trauma surgeon solemnly assured, resting his hand on the paramedic's shoulder.
The rain overflowed from a gutter at the corner ER bay as orderlies slowly rolled the gurney through the sliding doors.
A gentle rumble of thunder echoed through the bay as the sliding doors closed.
It was a peaceful moment. A bright and beautiful dream fulfilled for Chris Barrow.
Finally.
New Orleans, Louisiana. Yes, indeed! She’s beautiful, she’s loving, she can be a total bitch. But, making up is the best part. It's a classic love story that you cant leave. Even when you do leave.
When she puts her arms around you, it’s like no feeling in the world. Seemingly accidental but, likely, fated.
Many a transplant and local will tell you that she’s virtually impossible to forget because of her beauty and the depth of that love.
Once you’ve truly noticed her, no matter where fate finds you in this big, sometimes complicated, world, and afterlife, you’ll always take a piece of her with you. Deep within your soul. Peacefully.
...It's home.
The End.
copyright, Pontchartrain Press 2008
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