Everyone has a moment, when everything seems clear. When the lightbulb goes off, the pieces fall into place and the world is simple. Things just make sense. It’s your eureka moment, and you know irrevocably that things will never be the same.
The whole sleepy little town, seemed to have shown up at the lake that hot summer day. I had tied an ugly, bright yellow bandana to keep my hair away from my face and just sat under a shaded tree some distance from the crowd. Taking in the familiar sights and sounds, like an often repeated rerun of an old TV show. The recently divorced hairdresser was flirting with the handyman. Our next door neighbors were arguing over the weather forecast. Children were running around. There were a few boats on the lake and the good Christian ladies from church were gossiping as usual. Beyond that, I can no longer remember for at that moment, my imagination stepped in and took me away. I no longer heard the snippets of conversations. I was just drifting. First on winds filled with laughter, smells of barbecue meat and images of the familiar. Then I started to drift further, on stronger winds ... toward stormy seas and unchartered territory. I saw myself on a little storm tossed boat. It would never even have survived a placid lake, but a little imagination is a wonderful thing. Perhaps the boat weathers the ocean because of divine providence, perhaps I choose to suspend disbelief. Either way, I continue my journey, both terrified and exhilarated as I pictured, in the distance my destination. The little vessel finally crashed into some majestic faraway shore, tossing me rather violently on the deserted beach. I smell the ocean, see the waves crashing against the rocks as I rise to my feet. I have never seen this place before, but I know instinctively where each path will lead. What secrets hide behind each rock, each cavern, each secret cove. Soft rain starts to fall. I am drawn to the patterns the raindrops make on the sandy floor. Up ahead the trees sway, welcoming me back. It is my home more surely than my charming little town could ever hope to be. Here lies my story, like a constant lover or a loyal friend... “Come back to us...” I jumped at the voice, greatly annoyed to have been dragged back to my hum drum existence. I had not even realized my eyes were closed until they flew open to glare at the person to whom the unwelcome voice belonged. “Do you make it a habit, to sneak up on unsuspecting strangers?” The hostility was clear in my voice. “Only when I would like to get to know them, but I’m sorry I startled you.” He sat down beside me, perfectly at ease. I stared at his dark brown eyes and found that I had nothing to say. I frowned. “So where were you?” he asked, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. My frown deepened. “I don’t know what you mean.”
There are memories that blur with the years and there are some that seem more vivid with the passing of time. That day on the lake was one such memory. Somehow, in the course of that afternoon Richard was able to break down my defenses. We talked, we laughed, we swam in the lake and lay in the sun. Not just that day, we had many such days. Secrets were shared, plans drawn up, courses chartered where our paths were sure to cross and intertwine. With him in it, my sleepy little hometown became more exciting than some foreign shore ... at least for a time.
He asked me to go on a quest. It was towards the end of the summer. We drove for hours stopping at different beaches. We were looking for the perfect deserted beach, he said, one that would most closely resemble the one in my head. At the fourth beach, I closed my eyes, moved some images around and looked closer. Then I opened my eyes and smiled at Richard. We had found our beach. He laid out a picnic. Then we watched, entranced, as the sunset touched everything with a bright golden glow. As the gold faded, he lighted candles and spoke of the future. We would build a little cottage on this beach. I would write. Richard would practice law in the nearby town. We would have breakfast and dinner together. Everyday, as if by magic, coffee and chocolate croissants would be delivered to our door. All our dreams were within reach, I had everything I ever wanted.
Maybe, I should have held on tighter to those moments. Maybe, I should have let go. Instead, I was caught between yearning and doing nothing, in a daily passive-aggressive dance I did not fully understand. Of course, I went through the motions. Even a little cottage by the sea cost money, so off we went to make it.
Slowly, the deserted beach of my imaginings was replaced with a city scape. Jeans and shirts gave way to suits and heels. My yellow bandana was lost in the move. I didn’t notice. I had no time. There were things to do, people to meet, places to be. Instead of sailing the high seas, we drove to meetings. I found out may things about us. Richard was good at business, he had found his calling. I went along for the ride. One day, he did buy me a beach house. It was not a cottage and we certainly did not live in it.
More years passed. I knew I had a good life and a wonderful husband. So I had not taken the road less travelled. So I had opted for the path of least resistance. Why did that matter? Over the years, unwelcome thoughts would creep in during quiet moments, marring the perfection of my charmed life. I heard a constant typing sound in my head as I virtually added on to our story ... sometimes I changed it a little. Still, each day, I flew farther away from the beach of my childhood. Eventually, I no longer saw it in the distance. Heaven knows what lay behind those rocks or coves or tress. I would never ride a little boat. We cruised on ships to proper city ports. The pictures in my head were now snapshots of real faces, places and events. The conversations were specific drones that belonged to the aforementioned faces. I mastered the art of smiling and parroting back polite responses. Richard continued to be his brilliant self. We were always together ... well, maybe not together, just in the same place.
I wondered about Richard, but I never asked. He seemed happy. He was kind and generous and never complained. He still told me he loved me. He still smiled. I could still see my reflection in his big brown eyes. Life went on. I let it be.
This morning, I had woke up to find Richard in his study, staring into space. It was so unlike him. He saw me hover by the door and laughingly called me in. A piece of paper in his trash caught my eye. We had breakfast together, went through our morning rituals, then he left for work. I am back in his office snooping. I have never done it before. I pull the paper out of his trash, the writing is in Richard’s unmistakable script. Tears start to fall as I start reading. It is about me:
“Crystal. I love her name. But then again, I love everything about her. From the first time I saw her dreaming in front of an uncaring crowd. Since then I have worked hard to win and keep a prize, that I knew could never really be anyone’s. I understand more than she knows. Perhaps because I have studied her as I have studied each proposal, each venture in the business that we have built together, but she calls mine. My fascination with Crystal has never quite worn off. She does things but they do not seem to hold her interest. She is the first to recognize achievements in others, but never quite sees it in herself. She has always been there for me, yet she manages to glide in and out of everyday, not quite letting me be there for her. She is charming, yet each day I feel her grow more distant. But still, there are moments, when she lets he guard down ... like that first summer. I still see shades of it now. When I see her brilliant smile, hear her soft laughter or even hold her as she cries. Then the moment passes.
I have always been jealous of Crystal’s thoughts. Whenever they wish to, they take her away.
It has been twenty years. Once, I had dared to hope that someday we would live out our moments together. That one day, she would not need to drift away. That she would come to me for comfort instead of some shore, some thought, some dream. I did not know her then, back when we were strangers... I do not know her now.”
Carefully, I replace the paper in his trash, walk out of his study and close the door.
