Prologue

Prologue
"The Day After Yesterday"

Knowing THEN what you know now. Would it truly be a game changer?

Maybe.  

   After all, it's a chance to right wrongs, before they happen--  long romanticized an alluring prospect, to be sure.  You get to pull hurtful words back during an argument; not passing on a job offer when the other turns out to be a flop. While you’re at it, why not ask that high school crush out on a date? Better than finding out years later with a dad body at a stupid class reunion that someone actually had a crush on YOU.

Is fate an absolute?  Or, could there be a predetermined template, unable to be changed? Even if you had a time machine?? What if you had the chance to go back? Right now.  What would you do with such a momentous opportunity to complete the undone or to right wrongs?

Would you make the same mistakes? Or, with intimate knowledge of the past, would one be too busy looking for fate to unfold in a familiar direction as it blindsides from another? Predetermined. Inescapable. 

As they say, knowledge is power, hindsight is 20/20 and past is prologue.  Or is it? Really?

Chris Barrow transferred to New Orleans for a rebirth of sorts. Perhaps he was running from fate, or the past more than anything. New Orleans was his needed change; he was sure of it. As they say, though, the best laid plans…

   Fate has found Christopher Barrow in a trying spot on this particular evening. Far away from his childhood home, he felt all alone in a strange, yet wonderfully spiritual city. 
   
New Orleans is a city drenched in hundreds of years of culture with a history as rich as it is eccentrically notorious. A beautiful, yet mysterious place; its people are known for embracing one another and total strangers alike.  They're also known for chasing them away. Especially those who don't truly love her. Unconditionally. 

An abundance of alcohol, coupled with a 24-hour nightlife, can be pure poison to some while its culture, architecture and history is romantically glorious to others. New Orleans is a city that does not always love unconditionally, though; you have to love it back. 

That seems fair enough, since the city has shone brightly with human resilience in the face of being burned to the ground twice.  They've endured crippling bouts of Cholera and Yellow Fever...the little things that tend to plague a city which is built on top of a swamp.  And, of course, the devastation of Hurricane Katrina still haunts the minds of its people years later.

They still love, they persevere, they hope and they rebuild. It’s a city that refuses to tolerate those who pass through with a chip on the shoulder. No time for nonsense and trivial worries that plague transients who come in and out of her life every day from the flipside of the Marriott Hotel revolving door.

New Orleans, Louisiana, yes, indeed. Truly one of the most unique cities in the world. A place, even before Katrina, of rebirth. You either “get it” or you get out.

It remains to be seen what fate awaits Christopher Barrow but, his hopes are high for a much needed, positive change of pace.

Many people worry about the past,  yesterday.   Others fret about tomorrow, the future.  It's only when one truly embraces today in order to understand what's important.  It's always the day after yesterday. 

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2008

all rights reserved 

Don't Answer That Phone! Chapter 24

  Driving home, Chris found himself deep in thought.  He felt a sense of relief for coming clean with Angela, but he held a level of guilt for not doing it sooner.  He felt sad.


His attention diverted to a beeping tone coming from the glove box.  He'd left his cell phone behind when he and Angela arrived to the festival.  Fumbling with the glove box, Chris finally managed to find his phone. 

  Trying his best to scroll through the call log while driving, Chris noticed that he had received numerous missed calls. 

Shit!"  He mumbled, staring at the phone display.  Marie had literally blown up his phone tonight.  He wondered what could POSSIBLY be SO important but, rather than return her call, he figured he'd just pop in and talk with her in person,  since she was just getting off at the pub.  Plus, he wanted to share the news about he and Angela's conversation.


Chris’ scanned the room for Marie when he finally spotted her sitting midway down the bar, staring blankly above at the TV.

"...Hey!" he greeted.

  Marie’s mental self-deprecating session had been interrupted as she turned to Chris, wondering if her slip of tongue had ruined the night. She would be able to immediately sense if something had gone wrong.  She felt that the fact that he was talking to her was a positive sign. 


"...Hey, how’d your friendly outing go?" Marie hesitantly asked, hoping for good news.

"It was good, we had fun," Chris proudly announced, grabbing a handful of pretzels from a bowl.  "By the way, I got about 15 missed calls from you; what the hell?" Chris asked, holding up his cell phone.

"Oh, it was nothing; I just wanted to see how it was going...I was nervous for you I suppose," she dismissed, with a nervous laugh.


"Well," Chris began, "worry no more...we had fun, we also had a moment, an intimate moment."

"Oh, no!" she interjected.

"No, it’s OK; we talked and I was honest with her about my feelings and she was honest about hers, it went well." Chris assured.

"That’s good…right?" Marie asked.

"Yeah, it’s great," Chris resolutely answered, taking a sip of his beer.


  Marie reluctantly decided that she’d better tell Chris about seeing Erin and Jen, and about her verbal misstep.

"Hey, sweetie," Marie hesitantly began; "I need to tell you something..."

  No sooner than she'd begun, Marie's confession was interrupted by Chris’ cell phone.

"Hey...hold that thought; it’s Erin.  I’m just gonna step outside real quick and take this."


  Marie watched, as Chris walked out.  She silently prayed that this would be a good phone call.


  Outside, Chris answered his phone; "...Hey Erin."

"Hi Chris."

"Whatcha doin?" Chris asked.

"Oh, nothing;  I just got home," Erin replied, taking a few seconds before continuing.  "...Jen and I went out for a while tonight, how bout' you? How was your night with your friend?" Erin asked, coldly.

"Oh...it was fun," Chris stammered.  "We haven’t spent time together in a while, so we had a chance to get caught up on old times; we mainly just talked about some stuff that we needed to settle from a while back." Chris finished his vague explanation.

"Well, sounds like a nice night," Erin’s tone held measure. Chris sensed that something was amiss.

"...Uh, is everything OK, Erin? You sound funny."

"Funny? Do I?  No, not at all, Chris," Erin nonchalantly answered. 

  Chris didn't say a word, he waited for Erin to speak next.

"...We stopped by to see Marie tonight and had a couple of drinks," Erin continued.

"Oh?? That’s great," Chris said.

"Then, we went to the Shrimp Fest."

"Oh?" Chris awkwardly replied, "...did you have fun?"

"Yeah, we did, Chris."

  Chris’ mind slowly unraveled the mystery behind Erin’s tone. Surely she didn’t see him, surely she wasn’t jealous; the tone in her voice couldn’t be the worst case scenario, he hoped.

  After another pause, Erin asked the burning question. "Did you enjoy it?"


  Well, there it is, the worst case scenario, Chris thought to himself before answering. He closed his eyes and clinched his fists, wondering HOW this could be happening.


"...Yeah, Erin, it was nice, I had fun at the Shrimp Fest," Chris sighed. "...How did you know I was there, anyway?"  He pried.

"I didn’t, but, Marie reminded us that it was going on and Jen’s friend played there tonight so, long story short, we went, we ate, we saw her friend's band and...I saw you,"  Erin announced with a chill.


  Chris immediately looked to the pub door; thoughts of killing Marie rushed through his head. Only, HOW? How would he do it?

  Torture? Not conforming to Geneva Conference Treaty rules where it had to be humane...good old fashioned jungle tactics torture, using nothing but primitive methods. The kind of torture that would make people confess to crimes they hadn’t even THOUGHT of committing.


"I kind of figured your friend was a guy," Erin said with a hint of jealousy.

"Well, my friend wasn’t a guy, Erin."

"Yeah, I kinda' noticed; you two seemed to be having a nice, friendly time.  Very sweet hug, too, if I saw correctly.


"Erin, It’s nowhere nearly what it looks like.  It was..."

"...Look, it’s OK, Chris," Erin interrupted. "We’re not married and we’re not at the exclusive point yet, so it’s really none of my business."

"Erin," Chris sighed, "...let me call you back in a minute," he  begged.

"I really need to get ready for bed, Chris, I’ll talk to you later, OK?"

"OK.  Look, Erin, I just want to..."

  The call had disconnected in mid sentence.

  Back inside the bar, Marie nervously glanced toward the door every 30 seconds or so.  She painfully waited for Chris to return, anxious to see the look on his face after speaking with Erin. She’d know in an instant if it was the worst case scenario. She, again, silently prayed under her breath.


  The door opened, with Chris on the other side.  He slowly entered, staring ahead, walking straight for her.  His face held no expression. Marie’s stomach dropped, she could see it. She felt it. It WAS, in fact, the worst case scenario, and she knew it.


  Chris sat next to her, silently.

"Hey, Sally," he casually summoned the bartender. "Could you bring me a shot of Tequila?  Bring one for Marie,  also...it’s on me."


  Chris stared at the TV. His silence, to Marie, was tortuous, almost deafening. Her mind raced to find the right words, to make this situation better. To apologize and to explain how it was a simple accident; maybe he’d understand, she desperately hoped.


  The shots arrived and Chris paid his tab.  Marie finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

"...Chris?" She cautiously began.   

Chris remained silent, never diverting his eyes from ESPN.


"Chris?  Talk to me," she begged.

  Chris turned to Marie and finally spoke. His tone was calm and clinical. 

"Marie, I don’t wanna hear it this time; I don’t wanna hear one thing out of your mouth, as a matter of fact, because there’s nothing that you can tell me that will make me understand HOW you could screw up THIS many times, after I BEGGED you to be quiet.

"...But, let me explain," Marie interrupted.

"No...I don't wanna hear it.  I begged you about not talking too much with Angela, I begged you about Erin; Goddammit, I’m tired of it Marie. And, I swear to God, if you cost me this chance with Erin..." Chris paused, never completing his sentence.

"...It's not as bad as you think, Chris," Marie frantically defended herself.

"You know what, Marie? No more," Chris resolved aloud.

"Wait! What?  What do you mean, no more?" She helplessly pleaded, tears welled deeply in her eyes and slowly down her cheeks.

  Chris stood and held up his shot, downing it in an instant.  He resolutely slammed the empty glass on the counter.


"Enjoy your shot, Marie, it’s the last thing we EVER share together."


  Chris curtly turned to leave.

"Wait!! Chris, please? It was an accident, I promise."

  After a few steps toward the door, Chris glared back;  "...It’s always an accident,  Marie…you know what?" he continued, slowly walking back towards her"...when this whole thing started and no one remembered who I was...It's too bad that you weren‘t one of them," he calmly wished aloud, before walking out.

  Marie sat quietly and motionless for a moment, she stared at the door with utter numbness.

Sally approached from the other side of the bar. "...Everything okay,  m'dear?" Sally softly asked. 


".. That was the worst thing anyone has ever said to me," she whispered to herself, as tears streamed down her cheek, dropping to the floor and to the top of her shoes.


  Chris parked in front of Erin’s house where he found her sitting on the stoop.

"Hey," he greeted with a sigh of frustration.

"I thought we were gonna talk tomorrow?" Erin replied.

"Yeah, well I thought we might talk for a minute tonight, if you feel like it?" he pressed.


  Chris sat next to Erin on the stoop and began his explanation.

"...Erin, I’m not doing anything with the girl you saw tonight; she’s just a friend, I promise."


"Chris, it’s not my business; maybe we’ve been moving too quickly, anyway," she cautioned.

"No, we haven’t, Erin. Look, I knew this girl a long time ago and we caught up and resolved some things; it was innocent and nothing more."

"Oh, so you had a THING with her in the PAST??"  Erin laughed.

"No...well, yes…I mean, kinda'," Chris didn’t know how to truthfully answer Erin's question.  He didn’t want to lie but the truth would've been insanely unbelievable.  This was a scenario for which Chris was not prepared in his new found world.


"...So, what am I supposed to think, Chris? You’ve been distant this week, you cryptically tell me about goin’ out with a friend and, it turns out,  it’s a girl…a girl, I NOW know, that you had a past with," Erin scolded.


"You’re one to lecture me about a Goddamn past, Erin; at least I don’t LIVE with my past, staying two doors down the hall," Chris snapped, referring to Tim.

"You sure you wanna open this fucking jar right now, Chris?" Erin glared, with an icy expression.

"No, Erin, I don’t...I’m sorry, and I know I shouldn’t have said that."


"Maybe this is moving too fast,"  Erin wondered aloud. "...Maybe I still have some things to sort out from my past, too Chris," Erin suggested.


  Chris thought about the past also. Maybe this isn’t the right time, not just yet, he wondered. Maybe never. Perhaps, if they took some down time, things would be OK. Maybe Erin is right, maybe she and Chris did need to become closer friends


"Fuck!"  Chris screamed in his mind.  "This is happening again! Why does life have to be so fucking complicated?  Why can’t things be easy?? THIS is my second chance?"  He thought. 

Chris felt an enormous weight of defeat.  After all, he thought that he'd done things correctly this time; differently.  He was honest with Angie, he'd worked hard on fixing his personal problems, he'd shown better love and friendship to Erin. "...What the hell??" He wondered.


  Erin stood, extending her hand to Chris.  A reassuring smile crossed her face.

"It’s gonna be OK, Chris," Erin comforted, pulling Chris closer.

  The same words that she’d uttered in the past, as they once struggled to save a troubled relationship which had now resurfaced.

Erin and Chris held each other for a few moments, never speaking a word, until Erin tilted her head back, looking into Chris’ eyes. They shared a loving kiss before Erin turned to go inside.


"I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Chris," Erin assured, gently closing the door behind her.

  Chris stood on her stoop for a moment, before whispering toward the door...

"Goodnight,  Erin."  Chris sighed.

copyright, Pontchartrain Press 2008

Making Up Is Hard To Do Chapter 29

Chris had just left work and absolutely couldn’t wait to be home. Smoking a cigarette in front of the shopfront next to his house,  he replayed scenes from, what had been, a comedy of errors at the station. 

  A story he’d been working on was scooped by an unscrupulous reporter across town at channel 12.

 "...That dickhead poached that goddamn story from me and he KNOWS it,"  Chris sulked.

  One of Chris’ sources played both sides of the fence at City Hall, and Chris was none too happy tonight.

 

  On top of that, he'd received his 15th parking ticket from the meter maids in the Central Business District. "...The fucking parking Gestapo," Chris grumbled to himself, looking at the bright orange ticket in his hand.

  Earlier, he’d seen a group of meter maids in training on a street corner in the CBD. A virtual beehive of cruelty, he thought, as he watched the senior officers training their young recruits.

"Ha!"  He scoffed, "...I didn’t realize that you could actually TEACH evil."

  On a promising note, he’d decided earlier in the week to finally move out of his tiny home of exile and rent a small but decent place…with windows. LOTS of windows!  

   He hadn’t received a return call from the prospective landlord today and worried that he might not get it. He winced at the prospect of living by the shop for another minute. The cottage behind an industrial shopfront had been a necessary refuge, but had long overdue served its purpose.  

How?? HOW could this day get any worse? he wondered as he turned the key to the ancient,  200 year old door.

'Hey," a gentle greeting from behind broke Chris’ concentration. He turned to find Marie.

"...Fuck! You scared the shit outta me; you trying to give me a heart attack??" Chris snapped. 

"No, Chris, I’m not," Marie tersely replied. "...Can I come in?"

"Marie, I’d really like to go inside, alone, and chill; it’s a bad day," Chris sighed. 

"What’s new with you and bad DAYS, huh?" She sarcastically retorted.

"What the hell does THAT mean?" Chris indignantly demanded.

"Please let me come in for a minute, Chris; I’m tired of this silent treatment bullshit. We’ve known each other far too long," Marie pressed.

  Inside, Chris threw his shoulder bag onto the floor in the corner of his room and grabbed a beer from the fridge as Marie sat in the floor at the foot of the bed, staring at Bailey, who trotted over to lick Marie's hand.

"...So, what’s so important tonight?" Chris dismissively asked.

  Marie laughed. "...Oh, I don’t know, Chris, maybe it has something to do with you avoiding me for weeks. Maybe I'm just beating myself up for how I fucked up and then found myself on the receiving end of you pushing me to the side...like I'm human garbage!" She continued to firmly set Chris straight,  "...Ghosting me? Really? ME?" Marie laughed. 

   "...If I, or anyone else, pushed YOU aside for being stupid? You’d have been alone in this fucking world, long ago!  But, stupid us...ME, Thomas, every single one of us, we stayed with you. I wonder WHY that is?  Oh, that’s right; because we fucking understand the meaning of friendship; we understood and actually GRASP companionship," Marie lamented; her anger building,  intensely. 

  Chris interrupted. "...Look, I’m not with Erin, for now, we’re taking time. We'll see. We made some concessions the other day. Who knows? Maybe we’ll try it again, down the road; your relationship advice was solid. So, maybe or maybe we wont, OK?  I made a breakthrough, and she actually helped me to realize it,"  Chris explained.

"...Well!" Marie feigned shock, "...that’s great, Christopher! I’m glad that, while everyone around you tried to help you realize what’s WHAT, that you finally took HER advice. Glad you had a 'breakthrough,' That’s great fucking  news, Chris! GOD, you selfish bastard!" Marie laughed. 

"What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean, Marie?  I'm giving you a Goddamn compliment!"

"...It means that you walked around forever, in a fucking mood, causing people who care about you to worry. You made them miserable, quite frankly; including ME!  We all felt helpless,  like a lost Goddamn ship at sea.  You're the Titanic movie that wont fucking end, even AFTER three hours! And, all of a sudden,  you have a fucking brainstorm and realize that we were all CORRECT…out of the blue. That’s GREAT, Chris, I’m happy for you," Marie sarcastically yelled. 

"You sure you wanna fucking lecture me right now,  Marie?"

"No, I don’t wanna lecture you, but I WOULD like to remind you of a few things, since I’m here. Then I’ll get outta your Goddamn way so you can dish out even MORE of your selfish arrogance."

"Get out." Chris quickly, calmly and softly ordered as he glared at Marie. "...I’m not takin’ this shit from you, Marie, not tonight."

"No, I won’t get out. I listened to you for long enough.  So, you can take five Goddamn minutes of your life to listen to ME, now. It’s okay for you to lecture Thomas, or any fucking one else, for that matter, but when it comes around to YOU, it‘s off limits. You’d rather ignore and sink as low as you can go, into a pity fucking party. A walking suicide hotline call! That's what you ARE, Chris! Marie laughed. Tears of anger welled up in her eyes 

Chris' glared,  silently steaming.

"... Meanwhile, people who care about you, GOOD PEOPLE, watched you self-destruct. Watched you melt! You selfish motherfucker! Marie verbally pounded hard.

 "...Not ONLY did you self destruct, because we ALL know that you’re an overachiever and impatient, EVEN AT BEING DYSFUNCTIONAL, you took it to the ultimate level of selfishness and tried to kill yourself on that street.   I’ll bet you were a real joy as a fucking kid, Chris," Marie laughed.

"...It's not like that, goddammit,  you know it, Marie!" Chris interrupted.

"Yeah, Chris, it IS like that.  And, during the process, you finally sucked all of our energy dry; you got what you needed from us and, as soon as someone screws up or someone makes an honest slip up, you just forget all about everything good in your life and toss em’ to the side."

"...It’s always a slip-up or an honest mistake with you, isn't it, Marie?" Chris shot back. 

"Yeah, Chris?? It WAS a mistake, just like YOU. But, it was HONEST, unlike you," Marie retorted.

"What the hell does that fucking even mean??" Chris slammed his beer on the nightstand,  splashing it all over the floor and wall. Bailey scrambled to the closet.

"...It means, that in the real world, where most of us fucking live, people make mistakes. They’re innocent, and, while bad, they’re unintentional."  Marie rose from the  floor, coming nose to nose with Chris.  "...Oh, and it’s not because they couldn’t make up their Goddamn mind,  while fucking up lives in the process; that‘s YOUR job, Chris," Marie pounded her hand on the bed, punctuating her answer with each syllable.

"...You got about two fucking minutes, Marie," Chris interrupted.

"...Your mistakes were anything BUT honest, Chris, and they certainly weren’t slip ups." Marie returned,  defiantly, back to the floor at the foot of the bed.

 "...They were STUPID mistakes, mistakes you made because you couldn’t decide your way out of a fucking wet paper bag.  You couldn’t take your head outta your ass long enough, so you ignored everything and waited for people to come to the rescue," Marie continued to deliver a long overdue verbal pounding.

"...There we ALL were,  for poor little Chris; we ran straight to you, to mop up the mess and comfort you when you needed it…that‘s what REAL friends do, whether we agree with you or not!" Marie yelled, her anger reached fever pitch. "...it's called un-fucking-conditional love, Chris! You should try it sometime!"

"Yeah??? Well, no one twisted your fuckin'  arm, Marie!" Chris yelled back.

"Uh, Yeah, Chris, they did…YOU did," she laughed at Chris‘ naiveté.

"...Well, you won’t have to worry about it anymore, princess; sorry to be such an inconvenience, honey. Get out, now!"

"Inconvenience??? Hah! Chris, it’s more like a burden. You sucked every Goddamn bit of energy I had…that we ALL had. When you’d go missing for a few days, I wondered…Well, this is it, he’s finally moved away or, even worse, he’s dead. Did you EVER, once, stop to think about how much people worried about you?? I worried when I didn’t hear from you but now you go for weeks without even talking to me because of a stupid mistake! You’re a fucking dick!"

" ..Stupid mistake?" Chris interrupted. "You fucking told Erin where I was, knowing that I was innocently with Angela. Sure, Erin finally believed me, but I shouldn’t have HAD to explain, because it was innocent. Your stupid MISTAKE was,  indeed, stupid; they always ARE, Marie!"

"I FUCKED UP, OKAY, CHRIS??  Jesus  fucking Christ!"   Marie retrieved Chris' beer can and threw it against the wall behind him. 

"...HA! You've fucked up so many times I've stopped counting, Marie!"

"Oh, and YOU never fuck up, huh, Chris?  You know what, Chris?? Speaking of fuck-ups, maybe everyone would have been better off, including yourself, now that I think about it, if you’d just finished the job in front of that gate!! But, then again, you couldn’t even get THAT right; you failed at killing yourself…go figure. Maybe I should have HELPED you,  so you could've, FINALLY, done something right!!"

"GO TO HELL, Marie!!" Chris yelled.

"HELL?? I’ve BEEN there, thanks to you. I’ve been there for a LONG time because of you and you repay me by turning your Goddamn back on me like a fucking coward. No wonder you failed with Angela when you were married. You should have left her or taken a stand, but taking a STAND would have been a decision! OH, and then there’s Erin!"

Marie paused, hesitantly, before going in for the verbal kill.

"...Quite frankly, she’s better off without you... the first AND second go around, actually, motherfucker; truth be known, they’re BOTH better off, Chris!"  Marie lobbed anything that she could muster in order to hurt Chris.

   Chris stood, his eyes narrowed, his face turned red with anger as he moved toward Marie and grabbed her hand, jerking her to her feet from the foot of the bed. "...Get out! Now!!" He yelled. "...I want you out of my fucking house and outta my fucking life, Marie!!"

"Oh, You wanna hit me, Chris? Like my ex?? You wanna shove me against the wall now?? You wanna scream?? Marie taunted.

  Chris’ grip on Marie’s hand was tight. She jerked her hand away and pounded his chest, pushing him backwards. He stumbled against the wall.

"Fuck you, Chris! I hate you, I FUCKING HATE you!!" Marie screamed as she lunged toward him, completely out of control.  She continued to pound his chest, barely able to speak as she cried uncontrollably. Her breath was labored. 

  Exhausting every bit of energy she could muster, Marie grabbed Chris'  shoulders, still crying as she collapsed into his arms, completely spent. Her words barely escaped as she struggled to breathe. She sobbed, finally laying her head against his chest.  Loosening her grip, she slid to the ground, collapsing at Chris’ feet.

  Chris tried, desperately, to pull her up from the floor until he finally sank to the floor in front of her, realizing that Marie was completely and utterly at the end of her rope. 

Despair.

  He felt terrible as he witnessed the pain he‘d caused, the past pain she's lived with, long before he even KNEW her; Chris' eyes began to glisten as he placed his hand on Marie's face, trying to calm her. Tears trickled down his cheeks. 

  Marie could barely speak, through her tears. "...I know I’m stupid," she began, trying to catch her breath. "...I screw up everything," she gasped, "I always did."

"You’re not stupid, Marie," Chris reassured.

"Yeah, yeah, I am, Chris; I should have known better, but I didn’t. I hate myself for it, too. I don't hate you, I hate myself for letting this happen," Marie confessed in a whisper.

"What??" Chris asked. "Marie? What? Talk to me, tell me, what do you hate yourself for??"

Marie paused,  searching for the final ounce of nerve to confess something so sacred that she'd protected in her heart for a long while.

"...For falling in love," she softly answered.

  Marie helplessly looked up, locking eyes with Chris. 

"...Falling in love? What the fuck does that have to do with THIS?? Falling in love? With WHO?" Chris pressed.

  The room fell silent for a moment. Only a window fan whirling in the background  could be heard, before Marie’s full revelation, which had been silently building from the beginning. 

   From their first innocent meeting, both trapped in a hopeless relationship with other people, she saw a lot of herself in Chris' anguish, in his situation. 

"...With you, Chris,"

she whispered, looking back to the floor.

"... I'm in love with you, Chris. I think I always have been, actually."

The window fan sounded like jet engines.  No words were spoken for minutes, until Marie continued. 

"...I feel like I can't do anything to change where we are.  But, I always believed that I could do EVERYTHING  to change where we can BE.. At least I always silently dreamed of it. I just bit my tongue, or a friend talked sense into me and shook me to reality.  I honestly believe that even Thomas figured me out," she smiled. 

Marie dabbed her eyes with the bottom of her tee-shirt. 

I was careful about love advice to you, and YOU were to ME, too. Friends often THINK that they're giving good advice,  and they're well intentioned.  It's what's BEST for your friend, after all. Right? Only, it's what THEY feel is best for you. At the end of the day,  we have solo decisions.  Free will, to lead with your heart, not an opinion poll.  Scary," Marie slightly laughed.  

Chris studied Marie's face, trying to grasp her confession. 

"...The boy gets the girl, in the movies, ya' know?" Marie smiled through quiet tears. "...I want the Hallmark Channel Christmas,"  she tearfully confessed.  "...When's it gonna be the GIRl'S turn, to get the BOY? In real life?"

Chris delicately interjected,  "...This isn’t a Hallmark movie.  If anything, based on the situation at the beginning of this stretch, it's the Sci-Fi channel," Chris tried to lighten the moment. 

"...Chris, it's not because Hollywood says so, I'm realistic, Marie explained.  I've SEEN it, with other people, just not ME, or you,  for that matter. Ive watched people shit all over you and you've seen em' shit all over me."

Marie took thoughtful,  but painful inventory over she and Chris' love lives.

"...It's not about getting the one who got away.  It's about getting the one person who you're MEANT for, and they to YOU. It's being where you're SUPPOSED TO BE, even if you have to drift away for a minute.  Something so much larger than you're capable of understanding, because you're SUPPOSED to spend a storied and beautiful life, exploring it. Together.  Soulmates. That's my childhood dream, at least. 

That's how you know you're in love, I think? Again like in the movies, ya' know?" Marie whispered under her breath.

The silence which hung over the room was deafening. 

"...You're the love of my life, Chris, and you came outta nowhere and I'd like to share the rest of it with you.  To find out what that looks and feels like. I can't believe I'm telling you this." Marie worried that her confession was too much. But, she finally felt a sense of freedom. Redemption,  of sorts,  for living in denial. She finally felt, truly,  free.

  Chris sat, motionless, his face flush; he was utterly stunned. Marie couldn’t look at him as she sat across from Chris on that floor, her head rested in her hands as she quietly cried. 

  Chris took a deep breath, leaning his head and back against the wall, his mind raced to find the words, to absorb the news, to make sense of what had just happened. He was speechless, for ONCE. 

"...I tried to deny it for a long time, Chris," Marie explained. 

"...I told myself that it was impossible. That, even if my feelings were real, it could never work, because you had Erin. We’ve been such good friends for so long, and it was agonizing to watch the heartbreak in your life. To see what was becoming of you and Erin, to see how you sank into a pit; I cried for you when your parents died,"  Marie calmly explained. "...You became unrecognizable."

Marie continued,  "...You spun out of control, and I felt helpless. I felt like, there must be SOMETHING I could do. And then, when you almost died, I thought about how I would spend the rest of this life, knowing that you’d be gone, forever," Marie struggled to push the words from her lips.

"...I accepted that we'd never be together if you were with Erin, but, at least you’d still be around, I could still see your face, you’d still be around, to make me laugh, to talk with about all the things. To talk about my stupid ex, to talk baseball. If you'd died that night, that’s forever. I don’t know what I would have done. I dont wanna know what that feels like."

  Chris silently sat, absorbing Marie's words; utterly numb. Humbled.  He felt shame about his oblivious mindset. Absolutely ashamed. 

"...That night, when you left the bar and went home, I worried so fucking much. I hoped that you had just passed out. Then, you told me the next week about the pills.

 I didn’t let on too much in front of you, but I felt sick. I prayed for you  so hard. Knowing that I let you leave the bar and you could have died. You SHOULD have been dead, and I could have stopped it.  And now you hate me. I don’t know if I can live with that. I never wanted you to hate me."

 Marie quietly sobbed again, her head resting between her knees. She felt completely broken.  

Lost.

  Chris stared at Marie without uttering a word. He watched her cry, and handed her a napkin.  He listened to her confession, motionless. 

  Finally, Chris reached out and pulled Marie to his side, his arms firmly locked around her on the floor as she rested her head on his right shoulder; tears slowly trickled down her (and his) cheeks. Chris put his hand on the back of her head, gently stroking her hair and the back of her neck to calm her.

Bailey finally,  slowly,  emerged from the closet.  She licked Marie's hand.

"...Shhh, you’re okay...don’t cry, it’s okay;  I promise I don’t hate you, and I’m a dick and I’m sorry," Chris tried to calm Marie's despair. "...I promise, I could never hate you, Marie," he confessed, holding her tight.  "...you're literally my best friend. And, Bailey’s best friend, " Chris softly assured. 

  Marie spoke softly, her head lay against Chris’ shoulder.  She looked up,  staring into his eyes.  "...Over the past few weeks, when you weren’t talking to me, I realized something," Marie offered. 

"What’s that?" Chris asked.

"I realized that my world wasn’t the same without you in it, and I didn’t like it."

"...it was so vanilla."

"But, you LIKE vanilla," Chris responded.

They both laughed,  through tears 

"I like YOU, too, so there's THAT," Marie jabbed with a laugh. 

  Chris looked into her eyes. Marie turned away, unable to look at him, for her confession. She felt embarrassed, for telling him the truth and for saying the terrible things earlier.

"Hey," Chris prodded, "...look at me, Marie."

  Marie slowly focused her eyes on his. He stared at her for a moment, wondering how hard it must have been for her. How agonizing it had to be for her to listen to him as he frantically tried to regain Erin’s love and trust. How SELFISH he had become, in the first AND second go around. . 

 She’d always given him sound advice, to help him. She truly wanted his happiness more than her own. Through all of the jaded mindset about his lot in life.  About God doing things to him just to remind him that God does things to remind you that  HE'S  God, and YOU'RE not. Nothing personal. 

  She shared his ups and downs and desperately tried to help him find his happiness. Something he so desperately sought, knowing that his plans didn’t include her. 

She cared for him unselfishly, without prejudice. He wondered, HOW someone could love another person that way. He marveled at the strength of her friendship, through all of her hardships. 

He felt terrible for the way he’d treated her over the past few weeks. He felt selfish. Rightfully so.

Chris whispered a confession to Marie. 

 "...She's not you. No one is, actually."

Marie smiled; a tear slid down her cheek as Chris wiped it away with his fingers. 

Chris continued: "...No one can POSSIBLY be you. Only you. I never, in a million years, thought you'd have any of this or these feelings, for ME."

  Chris placed his hand against Marie's cheek and wiped away her tears wih the napkin. She rested her head against his open palm as he pulled her close.  They came nose to nose, their eyes fully locked, when Chris smiled and pulled her forward until their lips lightly touched. A soft, delicate kiss. 

Marie backed off, slightly, then, turning  back, looking into Chris’ eyes again. He moved forward, softly kissing her cheek, moving to her forehead then, slowly, to the other cheek and back to her lips, until they fully locked into a deeply passionate kiss, holding each other tightly. 

  Marie and Chris lost themselves in a moment that she’d longed for, moving her hands to hold Chris’ face close to hers.

 

Chris’ mind reeled as he returned her kisses, intensifying with each passing moment. The culmination of tension that had been bottled for so long, the emotions that had built, finally,  released. 

Butterflies.  It was all the things.   

Finally. 

  Neither had ever dreamed that their friendship would EVER lead to such an explosive,  beautiful moment. followed by such intense passion. It felt natural. It was pure, unadulterated, raw emotion. It felt right.

It WAS right.  

copyright, Pontchartrain Press 2008

Rebirth, Rebuild Chapter 32

  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 the melody from a  trumpeter playing for tips up by the levee.

  His head and body were still physically exhausted by way of a one week (seemingly, to him), year and a half of a most 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, as a couple of homeless men slept soundly under a cluster of  trees just up from the riverbank.

  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 journey.

  Chris laughed to himself, sifting through what was real and what was imagined -- or outright manufactured. It all 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 in life, Chris thought. A classic redemption story. 

"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 that 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 -- His perspective. It felt like a private revolution for a just cause. 

It made him feel, oddly, 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've 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 to savor the good times, but to learn from mistakes and to move forward, as though tomorrow may never come. Fresh starts. Leading with your heart like no one is looking.  

Full Circle.

  Life really is THAT simple; it’s one’s mindset, lofty expectations, trappings 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 enchanting  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 reforming gang member? That checks out, he said to himself. .  Chris shook his head, replaying his drug-addled adventure with disbelief, but purpose. 

  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.

"...Do you think you could say that a bit louder?  I'm not certain as to whether or not EVERONE outside of the bar could hear you," Chris 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 head.  Marie raced from around the bar to give Chris a tight embrace, 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 oozing outta your mind," she teased. 

"I can be fucking romantic!" Chris quickly defended.  "...I have romantic pulsating through my blood!  I just hide it,"  He boasted.  "...I don't think I got enough words to fill a book anyway," Chris sighed. 

 "Reeeally?  Since WHEN do YOU not have enough words??"  Marie laughed.   

"...laugh all you want. We MOCK what we don’t understand," Chris defiantly asserted.    "...You know what? Give me a setup, a prompt,  a scenario, right now, and I'll come up with the most romantic storyboard shit you've ever heard; DRIPPING with so much Goddamn love that you'll need a cigarette, a mop, a 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 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. Wishing that Marie knew even a little of what he'd just experienced. 

 "...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.   

"...because if she's a hooker,  that's always been on my bucket list," Chris sighed. 

"Stop it!  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 or so has passed.  They've both been on one another's minds a little bit, but dont even know how to contact the 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 ex'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 thing,  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.

"...That's all I GET?  That's a pretty weak 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 thing withanyone.   I tried to make  THAT part easy."  Marie assured. 

  "...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 dark 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...actually lived this stupid fucking movie recently."  

Chris paused  for a couple of minutes. He'd basically lived this scenario,  unbeknownst to Marie.  But, he felt apprehension to share too much, even if it was an innocent bar challenge.  "...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.  Didn't even fill out a comment card. 

I might even muster strong OR indifferent feelings in a chance meeting-- just like this one, right here, tonight. Love, hate or indifferent.  Chloé, you and I could  end up married, in a one-night stand or, we'll  never see each other again, based on how life unfolds.  Unscripted.  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.  The end," Chris smugly finished.

"....NO WAY!"  Marie demanded. 

"What?  I dont wanna talk to a fictional character anymore," Chris groaned. 

"...well, then, you're stuck with ME.  Tell me the rest," Marie smiled. 

Chris sat silently for a minute before continuing. 

    "...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, just as you've  done a million times before.  You might go meet friends for drinks after work, experience a chance  encounter, order takeout...a normal day.  A normal life.  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 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. And, then what?  What are two people supposed to do?" Chris paused for a moment. 

"...There's rarely second chances in our fast-paced world. You'd need a time machine in some cases.  So unfortunate. Or, maybe not.  I can't decide.  

  Secondly chances seem so romantic.  I believe they can be.  Sometimes you just might find the first chance that was there all along, only you never saw it coming." 

 Chris smiled to himself,  glancing quickly up at Marie before looking back to his napkin. 

  "...No matter how much time has passed or who we all meet in between -- after it stops-- everything else?  It's 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 the initial question... I hate that next day and, then, the next even more.  It just seems like a boring day,  by comparison -- to what I've seen and felt.

 It's like the day AFTER Christmas for a kid.  December 26th. Saddest day of the year. 

With some connections, it's the San Diego weather forecast-- the same forecast, day after day.  Boring.   Others, special ones, the weather of everyday life is the forecast which is never predictable by the wacky weatherman.  That's the fun AND challenge of it...the journey is interesting like that.  It's what you make of it. 

Along the way, dreams, good memories -- faith actually -- perpetually fuel the bond when the weather turns nasty, as it sometimes does.  You absolutely pray that it gets you BOTH through.  That it carries you through something that you just KNOW is special-- offspring from an unsuspecting, innocent chance encounter one afternoon. An afternoon that turned into evening. 

An afternoon that turned into everything. 

   There's one person who comes along (if you're lucky) who seemed benign -- until it appeared to be the beginning of forever.  One who couldn't possibly just be a fluke.

   This is a person who might be mistaken as caddy, wanderlust-- they're boisterous, playful, fun. A lot!

 Misunderstood?  Maybe.  Never boring,  though.  Comfortable with who they are, as you search for who you need to be.

But, they wear their feelings and genuine love on their sleeve; This person holds compassion like few get close enough to see."  Chris began spinning the story in a seemingly personal direction as Marie listened intently. 

   "...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 it, she sneaks mini bottles of booze into inappropriate places (like a hospital) because that's actually kinda fun."  Chris paused, recalling his great recent adventure, 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 Rouse's 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 he continued. 

"...No matter what her friends,  or my friends,  caution about,  this person brings your recollection back to precisely  what endeared them to you in the first place --no matter the way things ended.  Right where you need to be. For now.

One's longing and sense of place is usually misunderstood by well-intentioned friends, but it's always crystal clear to me.   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.  There's commercial breaks. You can hit he skip button or let the commercial play and ruminate about being lost in a fog,  looking in every single direction as captain of your own boat rather than taking in the moment -- truly being PRESENT.  Then,  you realize that there are other passengers on that goddamn boat. 

The one you care most about is ON that boat AND is rooting for you. Only, you're not sure who they are."

Chris paused again before continuing his narration. 

  "...You  become distracted,  rather than engaged.  You glance at what's right in front of your face, by your side, while stressing about circumstances rather than the journey. You hold up other experiences and  missteps as a benchmark, wishing for second chances rather than creating your own path, alongside with someone special...on the first opportunity. 

 Then, you crash.  Everything  disappears, just like that.  You wake up."  Chris sighed. 

"...You do all of this 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...the first time.  If I had a time machine? I'd go back in time to visit the person who invented it...and thoughtfully caution them to stop working on it.  To let it be.

You recall the innocence, which clearly is hiding dark life experiences and a deep street-sense that only those who get close to someone who 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, your own.  An internal reconciliation."

   Marie tried to hide her astonishment.  Her smile long had 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. "...This is 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 borne of an unlikely chance of meeting.   THAT isn't supposed to just go away or turn off like a lamp.  Even though,  sometimes you wish that it could. It's haunting.  It's dark and lonely. 

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 methodically continued. 

"...Someone who you want to create and share moments with, together, which become wonderful images in your heart that, in turn, become part of a fabric-- for you both--  No matter where either of you end up.  

There's laughs, cooking together,  passion, tears and challenges, but it's always 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 or not listening to your own heart...When the one meant for you is right in front of you.  Probably always was.  But, it's part of the journey.  You either make the right turn,  or the wrong one. "

Chris' tone turned softer and 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 Barbie and Ken 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? 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."  Chris sighed before finishing. 

"...The twist?" 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.  

  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, solemnly locking eyes with Marie. 

"...How could I possibly hate THAT dream, or a person like that, if I were to ever 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 before speaking.  

"...Wow.  That was, um, uh.  Well, that was unexpected," she nervously offered with a sigh and slight, nervous laugh. 

"...I'm new to the writing hobby.  Sorry I abandoned Chloe in the scene.  Too much?" Chris asked.

"...Well, considering that the male character's ex'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.?  I'm thinking Ron Howard, " 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 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, with a beaming smile.

"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 laughed. "...I’d love to have dinner with you,  Christopher J. Barrow." She accepted, blushingly. "...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.

As she counted out her till, Marie occasionally glanced down the bar to Chris, when he wasn't looking, smiling to herself.   

THUMPH!!!

"...FUCK! HIT HIM AGAIN!"

   The paddles reached the final high-pitched crescendo. 

 THUMPH! 

  The monitor flatlined.

 "...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 Tulane 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 deep, 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. It was finally something real, in his mind. In his heart.

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,  faited.

  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, 2025