Should have a title for this thing by now.... but here's PART IV

He parked the car a couple blocks away, thinking he could use a walk in the sobering December chill. Each step brought with it a different flashback, which was as thrilling as it was confusing. Many things in his memory seemed to have fused together, making it hard for him to distinguish the whos, wheres, and whens. But when one pleasant memory fluttered in the back of his head, he made sure to bring it forth, contemplate it, and savor it slowly. Suddenly he was transported to that glorious night: the lights dimmed across the dance floor, the bass slow and smooth, his hands around her waist and his head hanging low to meet hers. They moved to the rhythm of the ballad and basked in each other’s presence in delicious silence. What was the occasion? That was irrelevant. The important thing was that they had been there together and everything seemed possible when her hands were around his neck. He had danced with his eyes closed and had listened solemnly to her when she broke the silence to tell him all the things he had longed to hear from her. His heart was pounding and his lip quivering, so it took him a while to compose himself enough to be able to tell her how much he had missed her and how he still loved her. Then something had happened—he wasn’t sure what. All he knew was that she had walked away from him and had vanished behind the other couples dancing before he could do anything about it. That was the last time he ever saw her.

What was he doing, then? He was walking to Cathy’s house for God knows what while thinking about her. Why was he going to see Cathy? What was he going to say to her? He hadn’t seen her in a good three years—he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen her. What if she had moved away? No, surely she wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye. But how could she have said good-bye? He had made sure to burn his bridges and no one who had meant anything to him once knew how to contact him.

He kept walking, trying not to despair at the thought of potentially not finding Cathy. He was sure that he needed to see her—that’s all he knew for now. There was something about Cathy that he loved: she had clarity of thought. He could lay before her the most complicated existential crisis and she could untangle it in front of him and give him a solution—if only he’d listen. Sometimes he thought her overly practical, but it seemed that ultimately everything that she said was prophetic and everything she suggested would have been the best course of action, if only he would have followed the advice. All these things were flying through his mind until he suddenly looked up and saw a figure crossing the street hurriedly. When he recognized her, he stopped abruptly for a brief moment as if to gather courage. He saw the woman cross the street again and struggle with the gate. He approached her and ended up lurking behind her.

He had startled her, so he took a step back and greeted her softly. He could see the shadow of confusion on her face and then the lightbulb going off when she finally realized who he was. He looked at her and smiled as her knitted brow relaxed.

“Santi! Oh my God!”

Next thing he knew she was throwing her arms around him. It was a bit of a shock, being hugged like this, hearing his own name again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged him like this. She was so warm and soft and smelled like lavender, just as he remembered her. He closed his eyes for a second and let that scent transport him back to the many times he had spent right here, just outside her house, telling her about his woes, drinking the delicious hot chocolate that only she knew how to make, feeling the sleeve of her cozy red sweater around his shoulders as she consoled him and encouraged him to move on. She had always been there for him. She could have helped him forget—he knew that now.

“Look at you… you look…”

“Like death?”

“I was going to say skinny and cold, but I guess that will do,” she chuckled as she rubbed his arm lovingly.

“You look so beautiful,” he blurted out without thinking. His remark made her blush profusely and look away with embarrassment. He was quite in awe of her glowing face, with its freckles and dimples and sparkly eyes and perfect smile. He started wondering if he had ever noticed how radiant she was or if she had just changed too much. But he knew it had been him—he hadn’t noticed, he hadn’t even tried.

 “What are you doing here?”

“I—I was in the neighborhood and I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas.”

“Yeah? That’s… weird. I mean, I haven’t seen you in God knows how long. How are you?”

“Well… I don’t know… fine,” he tried to force a smile. She noticed and looked at him with her bright hazel eyes filled with worry.

“Are you… hungry? Would you like to join—”

“That’s not why I’m here,” he snapped, annoyed at the suggestion that he had come to beg for food. No matter how much he had been through or all the things he had done, he was too proud to beg anyone for anything. “I just wanted to see you. I miss you.”

“Oh, Santi…”

“I don’t really have anyone to talk to anymore.”

“What happened with your girlfriend?”

“Who?”

“Oh… Mikaela?”

“She… she’s not my girlfriend… well, I can’t talk to her. She’s not doing too well…”

“Neither are you, by the looks of it.”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Why are you here?”

He fixed his eyes, which were glistening with tears, on hers. There were no words, no explanations, no excuses to be made. He didn’t dare to ask. He could only plead with his eyes. She knew him so well, and he knew that would be enough for her to understand that he needed help. She was looking back at him and he could see her eyes welling up. She still loved him—he could see it. If only she would give him a chance! He came closer to her and leaned in, slowing bringing his forehead to almost touch hers. She was utterly still.

“You’re a mess.”

“But if only I could be around you… I know I would get better. I would try harder. I would get my act together—you would help me.” She remained still and he whispered to her, “you’re good for me. I know I don’t deserve it, but I know I can do better if you’re with me. I could finally forget…”

“Forget? You are still planning on doing that?” her voice rose with indignation and she drew back. She calmed herself by taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry—yes, I’m still trying to let go. It’s not easy.”

“Well, we’ve all done it, moving on. She is married. She has a kid. What are you waiting on?”

“It’s not so easy!” he cried with frustration, “after all we went through, after all the things that were said and promised. Even a couple years ago—at that party, when I thought it was all lost—I  saw her at that party. She told me she cared for me… that she loved me. Then she just went and married that guy, when in reality she still loved me? How am I supposed to get over that so easily? I’ve tried. Mickey—Mikaela—tried to help me, but it didn’t work. But Mickey—she’s too weak, she ended up worse than me. I need someone strong, who can help me, who can push me to be the best version of myself… Cathy…”

“I can’t fix you, Santiago. Only you can do that—”

“But I’m not asking you to fix me… Just—when I’m with you, I’m better. I know I didn’t treat you right, I took you for granted, I was awful… but if you give me a chance—”

“I will not.” She said it decisively, but with tranquility and gentleness. She was frank and serious, looking at him without embarrassment, yet she was not cruel, bitter, or resentful. He was rendered speechless.

“For years, I waited for you to realize… but you have a habit of refusing to see the truth that’s right before you—whether it’s the fact that Danielle moved on or that I was crazy about you.” His heart jumped inside him and he felt hopeful for a brief moment. She stopped and looked down momentarily as if to gain courage.

“Yeah, I was—and you knew it. Danielle told you she did not love you. It couldn’t have been clearer. But you decided to spend your time getting stoned out of your mind and ruining your life and using unrequited love as an excuse for all that.”

Being accused in such a manner was, truthfully, a small pleasure. If she was bothering to give him a lecture, then she probably still cared. It was good to be held accountable—he knew he needed someone to do that for him. He was glad he had come here, even if her words did hurt and if he was desperate to make things up to her.

“That party you’re talking about? For God’s sake—that was my graduation party, when I finished my degree.  You showed up there, drunk or high or something, thinking she would be there because her brother was graduating in my class. But she wasn’t there, she had already moved to Paris.”

His heart stopped. His eyes widened. His mind suddenly seemed to explode, unfolding before him a vivid recollection: it was Cathy he had slow-danced with; it was Cathy who had put her hands around his neck and had whispered to him that this was like a dream come true and that she had waited for this moment for such a long time; it was Cathy who had heard him pour his heart out; and it was Cathy who had walked away and vanished in the crowd.

“I did think you seemed a bit tipsy, but didn’t realize how bad it was until you called me Danielle,” he could scarcely bear to look at her. “You called me Danielle.”

“I…”

 “I left you in the middle of the dance floor by yourself. That was the last time we saw each other. And here you are, asking me to give you a chance? I did. It was one chance. You missed it.”

“I am so sorry, Cathy.”

“I know you are.”

“Please, forgive me… please…” he took her hand and raised it to his chest. He inhaled that lavender scent and closed his eyes, pleading with her. She withdrew her hand.

“I have forgiven you, but that’s all I can do for you.” He could see pity in her eyes. “I used to think that you were the worst thing that had happened to me. But I made up my mind to not let you break me like Danielle had broken you. I resolved to be happy no matter what.  But in order for me to do that, I had to forgive you--for my own sake. Ironically, it is because of you that I can say that I’m as happy as I never thought I could be”, she smiled at him. After some moments of silence, she added, “what you are looking for is not here, Santi.”

“What do you think I’m looking for?”

“Love. In the truest sense of the word.”

“Well, I thought I would find that here.”

“It’s Christmas. Go home, Santi.”

“Home?"

“Yes, home.”  

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