I decided to break back into blogging after my three-month hiatus by sharing the story of Tuesday night. My coworkers have told me it’s their favorite story of mine thus far. Consider yourself in for a treat.
Tuesday night really surprised me. If only for the fact that I left home at 8pm to go for a 30-minute walk, only to be dropped off two hours later with a bag full of a dozen crabs…it surprised me. But it wasn’t just about that. In truth, on Tuesday night, I found out in the most unexpected way possible—people can really surprise me.
Let me explain.
I do a lot of walking around my neighborhood. I always go the same way, but I like it that way. I can turn up my music and tune into my thoughts (which usually revolve around food, work, working out, what food to have after I workout, and reasons why I don’t want to workout).
After fifteen minutes into this typical walk, I forget about the cupcakes I’m thinking about, and realize I’m about to pass by Chuck’s street. Although this time I don’t pass by; I turn onto it. And let me clarify—Chuck is my ex-boyfriend.
Chuck was my first boyfriend. A whopping twelve years ago. I was fourteen and he was fifteen. I was an incoming freshman and he was a veteran sophomore…an older man. So obviously, when Chuck told our mutual friend Mike that he wanted to date me, I told Mike to tell Chuck that I said yes.
It was the classic love story we’re all familiar with. I was the naïve good girl with the straight As; he was the rogue rocker, perpetually in a band. I was in the marching band; he was on the football team. I played chess; he wore a lot of black. But somehow, it worked for as long as a high school couple could. Those were the most exciting 5 months of my young life.
Over the years, Chuck and I would keep in touch and drift apart. This is nothing unusual for anyone, but the amazing thing with Chuck and me was that no matter how much time may have passed, we could pick right up like no time had passed at all. Chuck and I had a connection that I had with hardly anyone I’ve ever known; so much so that I would consider him my close friend, even when years would fly by without one conversation between us.
Chuck could count on me to accept him just as he was; to ask about his life and genuinely care; to remember his family and tell him I missed them; to tell dirty jokes and always laugh at his. And I could count on Chuck to treat me like a princess; to open my car door and tell me I’m pretty. And I could always count on him to be in love with me.
The last time I saw Chuck was about a year ago now, shortly after I moved back to Kent Island
Like I said, that was a year ago, and we haven’t talked since.
I found out through the familiar practice of Facebook stalking that he got engaged, got a kid, and got married, all shortly after that dinner with me—and without a single word said to me. To say I was hurt would be…well, that would be correct.
So, I turned onto Chuck’s street. As I walked by his house that he shared with his parents and sister (and for all I knew, his wife and kid), I could see that they were having dinner through the window. I could see that they were home.
He lived on a dead-end street, so by the time I turned around at the end of it, the idea of stopping by, unannounced, was giving me butterflies in my stomach. Should I? Would it be weird? Would his wife hate me? Would he hate me? What would I say? Would I bring up the past? Would I hold the baby? Would I be baby, and not even knock?
I felt nervous and excited as I went up to the door. What’s the worst that could happen? I could think of all too much.
I knocked on the door. I waited all but a second before I heard a voice call, Come in! SHIT! They have no idea it’s me and they’re telling me to come in! They’re expecting somebody else and I’m about to ruin their whole night! For all I know they’re having a dinner celebrating Chuck’s new marriage, and now I, the ex-girlfriend, has come by to ruin the photos and make the baby cry. Shit!
With those lovely thoughts in mind, what else could I do? I opened the door. And there they were. Sitting at the kitchen table. My jaw dropped and I couldn’t believe what I was looking at…because there were three strangers looking back.
It’s just as well that Chuck didn’t tell me he moved. Four months ago. He didn’t tell me he moved four months ago. As it turns out, the guy I was stammering apologies to when I realized Chuck and his family had moved recognized me. He was my brother’s best friend when I was in elementary school, and remembered my face from all that time ago. When he said he remembered my family’s giant trampoline in the backyard, too, I knew he was for real.
So of course, after finding out that the other two people at the kitchen table were his fiancée and neighbor, all of whom also went to high school with me and said they recognized me (I sure as hell could not say the same), when they invited me in for crabs and beer, I sat right down.
The three of them got a kick out of my story of Chuck and how I ended up at their kitchen table instead that evening. A 2004 yearbook was even whipped out and numerous horrifyingly young classmates stared back at us from its pages.
We talked about the past and shook our heads at the future, and it turned out to be one of the coolest evenings I’ve had in a while. To say I was pleasantly surprised at how this evening turned out actually would be an understatement.
I never did get to resolve things with Chuck. Perhaps it’s just as well. Maybe our friendship should stay remembered as it was, before life got in the way and complicated it with marriage and kids and all that other grown-up stuff. Maybe I’ll tell myself that he’s still in a band and tosses a football every now and then. Maybe I don’t want any more surprises.
Like I said at the beginning of this blog, Tuesday night showed me that people really can surprise me. And by that, I’m referring to myself.
Because it had been a really long time since I’d eaten a crab.
