Crosscurrents - 29. Hanging Ten

I wasn't on the market, and I wasn't in the market, either.

I was tired of it. Sick of it. As I looked back on all of it, it made me a little queasy. What the hell had I been thinking?

I hadn't been thinking, of course. I'd been running from something. And I'd been using drinking and drugging and sexing and raising hell to put roadblocks between myself and that thing that was coming after me from my past.

That thing that had been coming after me and getting closer all the time.

But what if it wasn't coming after me? What if it wasn't my monster-from-under-the-bed from childhood? What if it was something else...something more benign?

Something good, even?

The Saturday I woke up determined to walk a different way, that possibility--the possibility that my past might be the answer instead of the problem--caused me to give Angie a call.

She was surprised to hear from me. She was even more surprised to hear me ask her out for the next night.

She accepted, though.

I took her to Carmelo's for dinner. A little upscale for a college kid, but her tentativeness made me realize I was going to need to show her something. She hadn't been completely oblivious to What I Was All About In College. I wasn't sure how, but some of my high school friends knew I was riding fast and had turned loose of the reins. I knew she'd heard. And I knew that wasn't going to work in my favor, whatever it was I wanted with her.

And quite frankly, I wasn't sure what that was at this point. All I knew was that thinking about her made me feel sane and stable and peaceful. All I knew was that the last time my life felt real, the last time it felt under control, the last time I felt whole, there were some people in my life who weren't there now. The last time I felt those things, I wasn't burning the house down with sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

The last time I felt those things, my heart had been full and quiet and joyous. It had been made full and quiet and joyous.

By her.

By her and...

I couldn't think about the rest of that, though.

What I did think about was that I needed her back in my life.

For what? And for how long? I didn't know for sure. In the back of my mind a voice kept telling me "for forever," but I'd regularly shake that off. What the hell does a twenty-year-old know about forever? I refused to consider any of that and focused on what I did know, which was that the full range of myself hadn't been available to myself since I'd broken up with Angie. When we'd spent time together at Christmas, I'd felt myself reclaiming lost parts of myself. When I was with her, I felt as though part of me was waking up. A part that had been sleeping on the job for a couple of years. Beyond that, when I was with her, I felt myself relating instead of using; I felt myself giving for the first time in a long time, instead of just taking, taking, taking...

And I wanted those feelings to continue. I liked feeling full awake, fully aware. It felt like living, and I'm not sure I had been completely awake to living for some time.

So Carmelo's was a statement to her, and maybe to me. I was ready to stop being a crazy college kid.

I had something else in mind with her. I'd been a good friend to my friends in college, and I'd even managed not to be a total asshole to the many women I'd serial-fucked. And for the most part, I'd done better than I might have hoped in keeping it real during my encounters with guys. But something about all my partying and running and hooking up had come to feel more false, and more shallow, and more hollow all the time.

Angie, on the other hand...

When I thought about her, nothing felt shallow.

We had a great meal at Carmelo's, and then I took her to see The Beach. As we watched, the dark tones and themes of the movie tried to stir up my own interior shadows, but I discovered that as we became more engrossed in the story, we seemed to move toward each other. There weren't any words shared as I felt our hearts pull into sync, so I don't know how I knew this. I did, though.

When the movie was over and I took her back to her apartment, I didn't want the date to end; I didn't want this thing that was happening to be over. I was on the verge of something--knowing something, realizing something, setting something in motion--and I needed to be with her while it played itself out, whatever it was.

I asked her if I could come in.

Standing at her door, her eyes probed mine. After far too long a wait, she said, "What was this about tonight?"

"I wanted to see you," I said.

"I wanted to see you, too." I waited for her to say more. She put a hand on my shoulder and said, "It's weird how it feels a little like back when. Don't you think?"

"Yeah," I said.

"It's not back when, though," she added. She took her hand away and said, "I'm in a relationship, Andy."

"I know," I said. "You told me."

"Well..."

I pressed her. "It's not serious, though, right?"

"I don't know," she said. "What does 'serious' mean, anyway?"

"It means...well, 'serious' means you love him," I said. "You don't, do you?"

She shrugged. "Every month that goes by, I think I know less and less what love is."

"I can't help you with that," I said. "All I know is I woke up Saturday, and I knew I was done with some things, and I knew I wanted some things...and that's why I called you."

"What did you want?" she asked.

"I just wanted to see you," I told her. "Isn't that enough?"

She frowned. "I don't know. Do you know anything more now?"

"Maybe," I said. "I think..."

And in that exact moment, the light dawned. I did know. Fully. Not partially, the way I'd been when I called her Saturday.

I looked at her and smiled. "I think...I think I shouldn't talk about it yet."

"On the strength of that, I'm supposed to invite you in," she said, her voice conveying her incredulity. "Andy," she said, with a sigh, "I know what you've been about in college. I don't know what you're doing here with me, but you know me: I won't be another of your distractions."

"I'm done with distractions, Angie," I said. "That's not what this is. Those are over. I've put 'em away. I'm done with 'em."

"Since when?" she asked.

"Since I woke up Saturday," I said.

"And this date..."

"This date is part of that."

"I hope you won't get offended if I'm a little skeptical."

"No," I said, sighing inside. "I can see I'll have to prove it to you. All I'm saying is this: Give me a chance to prove it to you."

She frowned. "Prove what?"

I debated; how much disclosure is enough? How much is too much? Especially since I'd only come to full understanding of what I wanted at this very moment.

The hell with all that waffling.

I took a breath. "I want you back," I said. "It was good back then. It was good as it's ever been, and nothing's been right since we walked away from it. Tell me it wasn't the same for you back then."

Her eyes grew wide. We listened to ourselves breathe for several minutes.

"Back then," she muttered. "But this isn't back then."

"So?"

"We're not high school kids. I...we...things are more serious now."

"Like all your college dating has been serious?"

"Of course not," she said, trying to suppress a smile. "But what we were then..."

She wouldn't finish.

I let her stare off into the parking lot for a while, but I wasn't going to let her quit in mid-idea.

"What were you going to say?"

She sighed. "All right, I'll say it too. What we had back then...It was good. It was the best. I had no doubt that...that..."

I waited for her to get the words out. I could tell from her face that it was important. "I had to ease my heart out of that," she finally said. "I had to let you go in little steps. I don't know how it was for you, but for me it was hard. It was awful.

"If I do this--and I'm not saying I can or I want to--If I do this...well, it wouldn't be starting over. It would be picking up where we left off. And that is serious."

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

But I did.

"Oh, stop," she said. "You know exactly what I mean: Picking up where we left off...there's no way back from that, if we did it. If things didn't work out this time, if you couldn't get...if you couldn't be...well, you know...that would be like me falling off a cliff."

She looked into my eyes. "Right now, I can say 'Good night, Andy, it was fun,' and there's no harm done. But farther on down the line, if we did this..."

I grinned. "Can you say 'Good night, Andy, it was fun' about a dozen more times after a dozen more dates, and still have no harm done? That's all I'm asking. Just to go out with you some. Find out something."

"I found that something out years ago," she said, her jaw set and her eyes cold-serious. "The two of us...we're...Andy, don't make me say it, I can't afford to go there. Look, I know what I know about the two of us, there's nothing to find out. The only thing I could possibly find out now is whether or not you're gonna keep being a stupid college jock, and if I give myself enough time with you to discover it, one of those two answers would throw me off that cliff."

I folded my arms together and frowned at her. "That's bullshit. You can go out with me and keep it light. You know you can. That was in our history too; it wasn't love at first sight. How else will I have the chance to show you I'm not gonna keep being a stupid college jock?"

"I'm seeing someone else," she said.

"Show me the engagement ring," I replied.

She scowled.

"Two months, Angie. Go out with me for eight weekends. And talk to me on the weekdays. Give me that. Let me show you. Guard yourself all you want, I totally get that. After eight weeks, if you think I'm playing you, we walk away from it, no harm, no foul."

Her eyes grew wide as something dawned in them. "You mean this," she said.

"Damn right, I mean it. Eight weeks."

"No," she said. "Not about the eight weeks; I know you mean that. I'm talking about...Andy, you're serious. You do want me back."

"I already said I did," I told her, smiling.

"I...I need to go," she said. "I'll call you."

"Will you go out with me next weekend?"

"I said I'll call you," exasperation leaking into her voice and out into the air between us.

She turned to open her door, but I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her back to me. I put my arms around her and pulled her in close.

I kissed her. And when I kissed her, the past came rushing back, and I knew I was where I belonged.

I could tell she felt it, too.

Eventually, reluctantly, I let her go. "I'll call you," she said.

"You better," I replied, "because if you don't, I'll call you."

The look on her face told me I'd made my point. Made it with my words, made it with my kiss. She opened her door, walked in, and closed it behind her.

Score.

I was ecstatic.

--------

We talked for a little while almost every day after that. The ease with which we slipped back into each other's worlds startled us. It felt like coming home, though.

At the end of our fourth week, she called me up.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi, Angie," I replied. "How's the gonna-be-a-doctor studies going? Need some help with your math class?"

"In your dreams," she laughed. "I called you to say something...well, something kind of important."

I took in a sharp breath. "Say it."

"I've stopped seeing Seth."

My heart started pounding; a grin took over my face, and I pumped my fist in the air.

"Aww, I'm sorry," I said. "Why'd he dump you?"

"Shut up," she said, "and don't sound so smug, or I'll call him up again."

"I'm sorry," I told her. "I couldn't resist. But I need you to say it."

"Say what?"

"You know what I'm talking about," I said.

She sighed. "I can't see him when it feels like I'm back in love with the only guy I've ever loved."

I knew we'd both been headed there, but to hear it left me dizzy with love, and my eyes started to water.

"Angie," I began.

"Andy...I won't lie to you. My trust level isn't all the way there. You really let yourself go crazy during college."

"I know, Angie, and I swear that's over. I can control it when I want. You know about my...my wild stuff. But while I was doing all that, do you also know my entire college career I've only made one B? I have plenty of self-control when it's important. And right now there's nothing more important in my life than you."

"I'm trying to believe you," she said. "I think I do believe you. That's why I ended things with Seth. I want to be with you. But you have to be patient with me, and we have to go slow."

"You have no idea how much I've wanted to hear this from you," I said. "I love you, babe. I guess I never stopped loving you."

"I love you too. More than I was ready for."

She paused. "Anyway, I have to get off the phone. I just wanted to tell you about Seth...and I wanted to hear your voice."

There was another silence. "Stand tall, Andy. Don't roll around in the dirt. When you're standing tall, you're an amazing guy, somebody I want to share my world with."

"I promise, Angie. And we can take it slow. I'm determined to make your doubts go away, because you don't need to doubt. I'm completely, totally yours."

"I...I can feel it. I want to trust it. I'll get there, I promise," she told me. "Just be patient with me."

"Take all the time you want. I love you."

"Okay," she said. "I gotta go."

"See you next weekend," I replied.

I floated through the rest of the day on a cloud of joy.

---------

During those eight weeks I never so much as looked at another woman. Angie became the most real part of my world. She anchored me, after far too long a period of drifting aimlessly from one distraction to another.

She evoked my passion and my longing; she pulled to the front part of my heart all the love I'd had for her in the past, all the good times we'd had together. And she added the present to it.

We went slowly. She was careful; I was careful to let her be careful.

I didn't push, and I didn't stray. I needed her to see that I wouldn't push or stray. And with every passing week, we grew closer.

---------

The Monday evening before our eighth date she called me.

"Hey, studly."

"That's me," I laughed. "What's up?"

"Let me take charge of Date Number Eight." It was impossible not to hear the mirth in her voice.

"You think?"

"I think," she said.

"Why would I do that? Can you be trusted? I know what you've been doing in college, and I don't know if I like it."

"Oh, shut up," she said, laughing. "Anyway, what have I been doing in college?"

"Studying and being boring," I said. "Where we gonna go for this Date Eight if I let you manage it? Some biology lecture?"

"You'll just have to see."

"Okay, pretty girl," I said. "I guess I'll take the risk."

I showed up at her apartment that Friday night. I could smell good Italian things cooking when she opened the door and let me in.

The lights were low inside. "We'll eat later. I'm cooking stuff for us. We don't need to go out."

"What happens first?" I asked.

I heard it then. The music coming from her bedroom.

Jewel's "You Were Meant For Me."

My heart jumped up into my throat. Memories and sensations flashed and flickered. Memories of that night, of her calling me and telling me that her parents would be away for the weekend. Memories of her bedroom and of that first time.

I wavered dizzily between then and now.

She'd noticed. "Why don't you go back there and check out my new stereo," she said, smiling.

In her bedroom, the overhead lights were off, and...

She must have had a hundred candles lit. The bedsheets were turned down, and the music had segued from Jewel to All-4-One's "I Can Love You Like That."

A tear started to make its way out of my left eye, when I felt her behind me.

"It's the same mix tape, Andy."

I turned to look at her. There was too much in my head, too much in my heart, to get it all into words.

"Angie," I began, my voice cracking.

"Shhh," she said. "You'll ruin it with your big mouth."

She pulled me into a hug. We held each other silently, wordlessly. Then she began to pull my shirt over my head.

I raised my arms and let her pull it up and off. I let it fall to the floor.

She stared at my chest. "You're more beautiful than ever," she said quietly.

I unbuttoned her blouse while she covered my chest with kisses.

Naked in bed with her, we fused the past with the present and became everything for each other that we once were.

And more.

I felt like steel as I entered her, but my heart was anything but. She moaned, put her hands on my back, and pulled my body against hers as my cock sunk into her.

I had fucked literal crowds of women in college, but I'd never felt like this.

In fact, I hadn't felt like this since...

Since the last time you made love to her, the Voice inside my head said.

In the passion, the physical intensity, the emotional onslaught, the warmth of one body merging with another...

I felt completely myself.

For the first time in a couple of years.

---------

The sailing was smooth after that. The doubts were gone, and in an odd sort of way, it felt as though we'd never been apart.

We spent as much time as we could with each other. Not just on weekends; we'd study together during the week. Just having her in the same room while we worked on our studies was better than ten casual fucks. I was almost fully back from the numb oblivion I'd staggered into during my first two college years.

There was still something eating at me, though.

One Saturday afternoon late in March, I was studying with her at her place, and I couldn't focus. Something else was yanking at my attention.

I said, to no one in particular, "I wish I knew if Matt...dammit, I just...it bugs the shit out of me."

She lifted her head from her work and looked at me; I hadn't mentioned Matt to her since we'd started dating again, and she hadn't pushed.

"Okay, Andy, it's time," she said.

"Time for what?"

"Time for you to talk to me about this."

She was right. I nodded, opened my mouth to speak...

and spoke nonstop for twenty minutes. Told her about it. Told her how it was killing me inside. Told her how I needed my best friend back but had no hopes of getting him back.

She listened silently. When I ran out of steam, she went to the phone, picked it up, and brought it to me.

"No," I said, shaking my head and refusing to take it.

"Yes," she insisted. "Now."

"I can't," I said.

"You can. He's hurting as much as you are."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. Now take the damn phone and call him."

"I'm afraid he hates me for what I did to him and just hasn't realized it," I whined.

"You're an idiot, and you're wrong," she said. "Quit whining like a sissy and call him."

I shrugged. "Okay, whatever. I'll call him tomorrow."

"No. Right now," she said, pushing the receiver into my hand.

"But I don't know what to say," I protested.

"Just say something, moron; anything. It's not so much about what you say."

"We tried that last summer," I said. "It didn't work. Why would it now?"

She hardly let a beat go by. "You're somewhere different now, and you know this."

I hadn't thought about that before. My head and my heart were in a different place. Maybe I could...

"Anyway, you have a convenient excuse. Y'all are gonna throw the July 4th party again, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Tell him you called because you want to start thinking and planning."

And with that, I'd run out of excuses and dodges.

I picked up the phone and dialed.

---------

We talked for a long time.

Things still felt a little tentative, on both sides, but we seemed to connect more authentically than we had in years. I kept trying to decide if it was my imagination.

Angie listened to my end of the conversation, smiling. Her presence made talking with Matt something other than it had been over the last couple of years. Her presence made talking with Matt seem more like what it had been back then.

Made it seem more like--did I dare think it?--what it might be, down the road and past all the hurt and misunderstanding. If we could ever get there.

Far too soon, it was time to hang up; the conversation seemed to be heading toward its conclusion. I needed something, though. I had to have it, and I had to have it now. I was scared to ask, but that didn't matter.

So in a lull between final words and goodbyes, I grimaced, summoned all the courage I had, and said, "Matt...are we good?"

He was quiet for a long time.

I heard him take a deep breath.

"Andy..."

Long pause.

"That's up to you, isn't it?"

I couldn't speak; I could only feel.

It was excruciating. Mainly because it was true. If he believed it enough to say it, it was true.

All the way back to high school; all the way through these two years of college: He'd been waiting. Hoping. Hoping I'd stop being a jerk. Hoping I'd let him back in. He'd said nearly as much before, I remembered; but only in this moment had it slammed home.

It had always been up to me.

And any other theory I'd maintained was just a smokescreen.

Before I could say anything, he stammered out, "You were right to call. We have a lot of stuff to get hammered out for the 4th of July party. Why don't we see if we can get several days at the condo in early June; just get away down there and get supplies, get things set up, scope out other stuff we can do for the party. I'll be home the end of May and I don't start work in June until the 9th. We'll have a chance to talk down there."

I thought I was going to cry.

I fought back the tears and said, "Uhh...yeah. Sure. I'd love...I mean, that's perfect. Maybe the weekend before you start. I start my own job the end of May, but I'm the one who does the scheduling, so I can get that time free."

"Good," he said. "Let's do it."

Silence forced itself between us again. Once again, my words were gone, and this time, so were his, apparently.

I made myself speak up. "I'll set it up then; I'll let you know when it's a done deal."

"Okay, then," he said. "I gotta go, Andy. But...well, thanks for calling."

"Matt," I said, but the remaining words caught in my throat.

"We...we have lots of time to talk. We don't have to do it now. It's okay," he responded. "See ya." And with those words, he hung up.

I put down the phone. I was happy.

And scared to death.

Angie looked at me. "Well?"

I talked to her a little bit. She smiled a little bit. We danced around the main subject, the subject that was the elephant in the room, until finally she'd had enough of the dancing:

"You're still in love with him."

There it was.

I couldn't do anything but stare at my shoes and nod my head affirmatively.

She walked over and pulled me into a hug.

"It's okay," she said, rubbing my back. "It's always been okay with me. I told you that a long time ago."

Then she undressed me, and she undressed herself, and she showed me.