Everything makes sense again. But it took nearly a year before it did. Kurt simply left. No fanfare. No argument. No conversation. He was gone – just like that. All the shit he brought into my life, was left there for me to clean out and clean up. How like him. I’d been living in a foreign land I didn’t recognize for quite some time before he left though. Everything was turned around – front was back, back was front, flipped upside down, and thrown back down with a thud. At a steady clip – without a break, one after another, life took from me – until I didn’t have any strength left.
When life stopped sounding like a song, the day his ghosting settled in – I didn’t think recovery was possible. A door opened in the floor, and I fell through the darkest hole I’ve ever fallen through. The fear was intense – would I ever claw my way out? But there’s a split-second decision when the night is darkest. It’s literally one moment, one moment of faith, one moment of hope. There is one brief and bright flash of the clearest, and warmest light you’ve ever seen. You either grab it and hold on harder than you ever held on before – or you let it go.
I grabbed a hold and didn’t let go.
***
One foot in front of the other, I fought my way out until one day, while hiking, a slow creep of contentment and joy took over. You know the one – you’re not exactly happy, but it’s somehow better. It was in this state of mind that I bought a ticket to Scotland with no real plan about how long I’d stay, where I’d go, or what I’d do while I was there. What I did know was that when you no longer want to die, you just do whatever the hell you want. There’s always something to celebrate now. Sitting outside The Milkman in Edinburgh, two weeks into my trip, after a couple of days of playing tourist, I watched this tiny corner of old town Edinburgh come alive, with the best cup of coffee I’d had in weeks. I didn’t see him until he was standing in front of me – blocking the entrance to the coffee shop. Until I heard his voice, my brain simply didn’t register who it was. His voice was one I knew like my own.
“How is it that I fly across the pond and run into my favorite nurse – who I haven’t seen at home in . . . what is it now, a year?”
I looked up into the sunshine and there was Sam. In an instant, everything felt right side up again. “Wow. How are you? It has been too long. How is everyone? How are you?” Samuel, the son of a former patient, had become a friend during his mother’s long hospital stay. That’s probably the wrong word. Friend doesn’t quite cut it. I fell in love with him – though I should not have. But I did just the same. But even had I not, his entire family had become like my own. I adored every last one of them. There was no option but to ignore it at the time. The timing was all wrong for both of us. But I’d never felt more at home with anyone, despite the moments of tension that seemed to hang in the air between us half the time. The elephant in the room was what we wanted and couldn’t have – each other. Like an electric current running between and around us, the tension kept us close but not close enough.
“We are all doing okay. We miss mom. But we’re okay. I’m oddly busier than normal. I’ve made time for travel though. It looks like you have too.”
“A change of scenery was necessary. I changed hospitals. I gave myself a buffer of a month in between leaving St. Joseph’s and starting at GW, and here I am. Now that I’ve made the trip, it’s going to have to be a regular thing.” We chatted for a couple of minutes before he excused himself to get coffee. While he was in the shop, I engaged in an absolutely unhinged fit of overthinking, about whether he’d stay and talk longer. But before he walked back out, I opted to jump off the crazy train and instead choose what has become my new mantra – acceptance. I accept whatever comes. That includes talking to the one that got away, for a while longer, or waving as he leaves, never to see him again. Either way, I accept it. Even if it stings.
When Sam walks out of The Milkman a few minutes later, with a pastry plate and his mug, I know he plans on sticking around. Rather than heading to another table, he sits at mine, as if there is no other option. “So, what’s the best part of your trip so far?” he asks. He smiles the smile that I’d had to force myself to forget for a good long while. Between his brown eyes, which I loved, and his smile, I’ve quickly reconnected with the hope there could be something more between us. The fact that I can even feel hope right now is not lost on me.
Three hours later we were still together – as our morning of people-watching and catching up, gave way to early afternoon. By the end of the third hour, I won’t deny any longer that I’ve now remembered what it feels like to be happy. As I’m about to say my goodbyes in front of the inn where I’ve made a temporary home, San says, “Anything I can do to convince you to spend the rest of your trip with me?”
We stand face to face, on the busy cobblestone street not far from The Milkman. “I don’t-I-,” I hesitate. I see my hesitation register on his face for a split second and before I can protest and maybe before he loses heart, he takes my hand in his. His hand engulfs mine as he lifts it to his face and kisses it softly. Despite my hesitation, he is not deterred. “I was not expecting you right now.”
“This isn’t what I expected either. But you have to admit it’s too much of a coincidence to ignore it. You’re free. We don’t have the weird patient, nurse thing happening. We stumbled onto each other in a city of like 530,000 people, across an ocean from where we live. I think we should take that as a sign.”
“You think?” I ask, smiling.
“Oh yeah. For sure. It’s a sign,” he says, kissing my hand again.
***
Time is our greatest gift. It also gives us a lot of perspective. Unfortunately, the perspective usually comes after the healing – not before. The thing about Sam is that long before he was mine, he’d come to symbolize what I most wanted in life and what I feared I’d never have. But Sam and I just needed a little time to cook. The hole I fell into after Kurt left, wasn’t a hole. It was the door to freedom. Thank God he left.
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