He came back to me. His voice was more soothing than I tried so very hard to remember. A voiceless tall love. His absence had me growing fonder each year; three years total. At a wedding, of all places! I’d dreamed of this situation. A reoccurring vision in the night of how he’d run aimlessly to find me. All who knew of his mission made it more difficult for him, as our falling out slashed me. Three years ago.
We grew so much. From the boy at the concert I’d marked “Mine” straightaway. I gave him my phone number; a girl on the rise that evening! A year later, he responded to me at his parent’s gathering. I came to this artist’s festival with an unknown mutual friend. As handsome as that first night I’d seen Mr. Rollie, he’d never looked more sharp on the unicycle of this crazy circus! We’d both changed; young tots hopping from scene to scene desperate to find where we might stick. No more entirely black ensembles, no more fringe across our eyes, no more piercings. Welcome color! Blonde hair! Smiles. Days before the unexpected “bumping into”, I’d had dreams of dear Mr. Rollie. He cried by the waters (always by the waters) and I wanted nothing but to help him. However, he couldn’t hear my voice. He simply cried, and I watched. Now I wondered, why was he crying?
I wrote down my dreams, handed them to his sister-in-law hoping the message to be received and noticed as by someone anonymous. That transfer didn’t work that way as dear Mr. Rollie called our mutual friend until the sun returned from its beaming. He found me the following day at a Writer’s workshop. I caught him studying my handwriting; he caught me! He recognized me. Within minutes, hours, days, Mr. Rollie and I became best friends who became lovers for two years!
We watched the stars, molded the clouds into shapes unknown to man and bleeding from our hearts, and eventually, our ministry of purity collapsed like the Eiffel tower falling on-top of a British couple visiting over breakfast in their land of paradise- Paris. Unfortunate, but someone seemed to have been behind the “Timber!” Death whispered its stench over us. We simply needed to marry, but were found too young; therefore, we acted married.
Sex. Amazing sex out of love; the language we both spoke fluently, daily, anywhere. Wake early to make love in the park, arrive to college classes late because we’d played in the quiet locker room. With secrets, light always travels to reveal them. Our secret was choking me, especially as his father, Pastor Pete, ministered on the topic of “Transparency.”
Be transparent with one another! This community needs no secrets or we, or you, can fall apart. We are here for you, to help you in your weaknesses.
I swallowed Mr. Rollie and my hot secret for days, weeks and months. We only kept wrestling, and now it was not giving energy but dehydrating all of our being. Someone would find out soon. We did not predict the brave soldier to reveal weakness would be me.
Three years later, after suicidal attempt, drug use, much promiscuity, months of inner-healing, many dates and Justin Bieber’s tutor (my year-long boyfriend), Mr. Rollie always awakened my mind and opened my eyes. He was always why I let those boys barely hold my hand, never as much as kiss my cheek. He is why I turned down the others, why I contemplated celibacy until the voiceless gained his voice back from the sea witch. Because I loved him, and because I love him.
At my best friend’s wedding, he and his sister were the musical guests. Our eyes traveled to each other all through the night. He approached me, we exchanged forgiveness and caught up. He left for Germany for two months and now is in Paris, returning home to Minnesota this week. My knees are becoming weak, my voice frail, for the one I love is coming back. What decisions he’ll make next, I’m not sure anyone can tell.
The thought I hold onto, whether we’ll love in the future, or be the perfect strangers, is “he came back.”