Flashback: Romance vs. Relapse

Something so beautiful, sad, and romantic happened last night with Amber. I’m sharing because my sponsor said there’s no rule book for breakups, and I love a good story.

I texted her yesterday saying, I wished we were going to the beach together tomorrow. When I was at the H&I panel (2 hours later), she texted back saying, “I miss you too”. On my way home, slightly detoured, I drove to her neighborhood, wanting to just feel that she is okay. Her car was in the driveway and the apartment lights were out.

I parked and pondered what to message her. I went with my gut.

Me: Go on a silent night walk with me?

(Minutes until she responded, my brain was racing. I said to myself, you’re just setting yourself up for failure. And she messaged back.)

Her: Silent? No words at all?

Me: Too late for serious conversations

Her: Ok..

Me: ok

Her: You meet me here ?

Me: sure

Her: When?

Me: 10 mins ?

Her: K

It had been 3 weeks and 2 days since I last saw her.

I parked a few blocks away, by my work, and couldn’t believe every second I was walking towards her that this moment, that this silence, that this allowance on both our parts would happen.

I saw her looking through the second story window to see if I was coming. I had already texted her, walking up now. She said, “K be right down”.

She exited the front door and the motion sensor lights shone down on her. No greeting but a smile. She was stunning. She was wearing a rounded black hat, her glasses, hair messy, a new nightgown jumper, an oversized cream cardigan, and pointed black creepers. She put on perfume..

We walked, with no words. The walking was slow, with lots of breathing from us both. I felt confident, content, and was soon able to let my hands go behind my back and just walk next to her.

We walked past this gorgeous house that was just finished, very modern, (we saw the whole start to finish process of it) and I remembered she once said to me, “I like to think this is our house they’re building.” Kind of a bittersweet moment.

Half way through, she picked up a fully bloomed hibiscus flower that fell from a tree and handed it to me. I smiled, smelled it, held it for a minute, and handed it back to her to smell. We were taking in the houses, the stars, the full moon, and casually, each other.

Almost back to her house, she stopped at the corner (now standing in a light patch) and pulled my jacket open to see my visitor sticker from the hospital.. touched my chest, stood a moment, and pulled my jacket to continue walking.

Across the street from her house, she stopped again. I thought it was goodbye, but she reached up and touched my face, feeling my cheeks and my eyes; I smiled, and she started to cry. I allowed her to cry only so long until I stepped a half step closer to gesture if she wanted a hug? She fell into my arms and continued to cry, sob, hugging me like she hasn’t, not wanting to let go but just being with me. After the hug, she cried again. This time I gestured to hold her hand. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to walk around the block again.

This time the pace was a little faster as we were locked at the elbow. When we got back to that specific house, “our house”, I placed the hibiscus flower on the half-wall of its entrance; she smiled.

She grabbed my hand and hopped over the short automatic driveway gate as to enter the property. There were lights on inside the house, but a huge sign in the front yard saying it’s for sale. I was a little nervous because I thought people were home, but there weren’t.

She climbed over the side gate, now tall, and I followed suit. I felt like a risky teenager on an adventure. I knew it was wrong, but being with her felt so right. There was an in-ground pool and a huge wooden back deck with patio furniture and candles. We sat on the patio furniture and looked up at the stars.

Not even two minutes go by and she stands up, takes off all her clothes, gestures me to join her, and prances over to jump into the pool. I laughed, and followed suit. She was in the pool waiting and I pretended to dip my big toe in and walked through the mental debate of wondering how cold the water was going to be. She was cracking up, thinking I’m hysterical. I was. I jumped and the water caught me. As I surfaced, she started to exit the pool. I also got out.

She was being silly, trying to open the sliding patio doors to “our house.” She walked over to me and I reached out to touch/mess her hair. She then touched my hair. She started to rub the water off of her own arms, mocking what I do after a shower because I don’t want my towel to be too soaked.. I joined her in mocking me. I pulled her close. We stood hugging, naked, wet. She rubbed her body against mine. She moved her face close to mine as if she wanted to kiss me. I felt the chemistry pull, but instead put my forehead on her forehead. Our hugging positions changed and she came close as to kiss me again, and we kissed. It wasn’t a make out session, no tongue, but a few soft kisses. I missed her. I felt like she really missed me too. She did a spin, and I curtsied, referencing her curtsy after she cried across the street from the apartment.

We then put our clothes back on. We walked to the other side of the house to attempt an easier exit. No dice. I locked my fingers and she counted to 3, audibly, and we got her over the wall. I stood on a pipe to help myself up and over. I picked up the hibiscus flower on our way out. We didn’t circle the block again, but walked to her place. She grabbed my hand to hold on the way, fingers intertwined.

When we got to the driveway, she hugged me again, pressing her cheek firmly against mine. This time she kissed my neck and all over my face. I felt like she was covering me for good measure. The hug slipped into hand holding. She squeezed my hand and came back in for another hug and a kiss. She turned and walked away.

I watched her walk into the front door of the duplex that still has both of our names on the lease. I waited to see if she’d look out the window to me, my sweet Juliet. She didn’t.

I walked back to my car, hibiscus flower in hand, balling crying and in shock. I had incredible joy, hope, and defeat.

Of course my brain began racing. Alcoholism was alive and well. I couldn’t tell if Amber had been drinking last night. We didn’t say a word to each other. She was wearing perfume so I wasn’t sure if I smelled wine on her or not. Her lips were pink, but she probably put lip gloss on. I couldn’t really taste her without a French kiss. Was she only able to be that spontaneous with me because her inhibitions were lowered because she had been drinking?

If there isn’t a rule book, who knows what will happen?

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