Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale...
Hans Christian Anderson
The plan was simple; I'd go home to
Texas, sell all my stuff out of storage and work my butt off at the
bar for some fast cash. Richard would work all summer to find a way
for me to get a Visa, and then he would come to the US in August. We
would pack the rest of my things and drive to Michigan, spending the
month with my family. Then we would fly off into the sunset and
start a life on Reunion Island.
Once I landed in Texas, though, things
got a bit more complicated.
It was a slow progression of good. My
friends were there! And they were so happy to see me! And I missed
them so so much! And my dog remembered me! Things were easy again. I
knew where things were. I knew what things were. Grocery
stores were big, with all the stuff I wanted in all the right places.
I missed Mexican food, and soft pretzels, yogi tea, and buttery
popcorn at the movies. I missed driving! Mostly, I missed being able
to communicate naturally without having to think about it. I started
back at the bar and immediately I was
making in one week, almost the same amount of money I made in a month
in Reunion.
Parallel to this slow progression of
good, was a slow progression of bad on the island. Richard called every
day with more bad news about Visas. Skype was sketchy at best and
increasingly annoying. As more time passed, it was getting easier and
easier to think about just staying put. Once I started to think
logically about the situation, I felt absurd. What was I doing? I
have a life here! I can work, I can talk, I can play with my friends.
Why on Earth did I think I could just give all this up and move to
some stupid island on the other side of the world with some guy I
just started dating three months before?! I don't know this guy, we
barely even speak the same languages. I started to tell Richard about
my doubts. He was so positive about us, about making it work...and I
just didn't want to fight that hard when everything was so easy where
I was. Wasn't that unfair to him? Also, just to add a few more levels
of drama, my ex boyfriend of (on and off) five years, the one I once
thought I would marry, became a more prominent character in my life.
Now in my defense, I had been speaking
with Mr. X since November, before I met Richard, and we were emailing
back and forth the whole time I was in Reunion. Things in his life
were changing, and we wondered if there was a reason after all this
time we were still talking. Maybe we were finally in the same place
in life?
In July I broke things off with
Richard. I told him about Mr. X, and the million other reasons why it
was stupid for me to come to Reunion. I had no visa, no money, my
French was getting worse by the day, and I had no desire to go back
to fighting every day just to communicate. The look of pain on his
face was unbearable. I cried the entire time. He didn't let his voice
break once. He just lovingly told me that he understood. I broke the
news to Sylvie and the California girls, who were all kind of
shocked. The girls didn't want to believe me. I didn't really
want to believe me. It made me sick to think of what I was giving up.
Maybe I was making the wrong decision?
I was at a definite fork in my life.
And I was absolutely torn. Staring back at me were two completely
different lives that I loved equally. And I couldn't just pick one
and incorporate the other into it. Choosing one meant giving up
-forever- so many things and people and places I loved about the
other. And on top of that, no matter what I choose, I would hurt
someone that I cared about. I was in a dark place. That kind of place
when you have a dense cloud following you every second you're awake.
The only time you're not thinking about it is that sweet sweet moment
of confusion right when you just wake up and you can't even really
remember your name or where you are. But then within seconds you're
alert again and the black cloud descends and you're in it for the
rest of the day. There were days I couldn't stop crying. Days I got
sent home from work because I had no way of keeping it together. I
just could not decide which path to take. And so, I ran away to
Michigan to be with my family and clear my head.
Richard had already bought his plane
tickets to the US, and soon called to inform me that they could not
be canceled or changed. I told him it would not help either of us if
we saw each other again, and that he should still come to the US if
he wanted, and stay with friends he had in North Carolina. After all, coming to
the US had always been a dream...
In Michigan, I was under direct council
of my best friends and my loving family. It felt good to be around
them again, and it just gave me more justification on how dumb it was
to move so far away. I felt I had already decided; logic and America
had won. So I moved on. I went back to Texas and continued down my
path to making an American life work. I started to search for ways to
become a French teacher in Texas, quit the bar, and started dating
Mr. X again. But something felt off, like I couldn't catch my breath or get on my feet...though I was doing my best every day find my niche in Texas.
Richard eventually came to the states
in August, as planned. Every once in a while, I'd get a text. Like
when he ate Chipotle for the first time, since I always used to talk about how amazing it is. It was bittersweet. And, I missed him. He stayed for two weeks, and we kept in
contact...until right before his last weekend when he called. He asked me one last time if I would meet him somewhere, quickly, for his last weekend. If nothing else, to just say goodbye face to face and honor each other, instead of via emails and Skype.
I had to think about it. I knew I wanted to, but logically it was a bad idea...seeing him would only stir up useless emotions, and we had begun to move on...right? I
talked to Mr. X, and told him what Richard was asking. And being the
incredibly intelligent and logical man that he is, he had known that
I hadn't stopped thinking about Richard and my fairy tale life on the
island. It was already a weird uncomfortable bubble between us. He
knew he only had half of my heart...and so, because he is a good man,
and he loved me, he told me to go. If I would ever be able to be in
a real relationship, half my heart just wouldn't do. I had to find
out if Richard was just a fairy tale I had in my head, or if there
was something real there.
So Richard came to Dallas. I completely
expected that when I saw him at the airport, I would immediately know
it wasn't real. Seeing my French life cross into my American life
just wouldn't fit. It would be embarrassing, or awkward, and then
after a few days I could send him back on a plane and we'd have the
closure we both needed.
Instead, when I saw him, my heart
skipped a beat in that very first instant. I choked back panicky tears
because I knew then what was going to happen. We had an incredible
weekend. Every second was just as it had been before. There is this
connection there that defies logic. It's like every romance film ever
made rolled in to one. On our last day, we had some time at the
airport, and finally he asked the question we had been avoiding all
weekend.
«So, is this goodbye, or is it just
I'll see you soon?»
I told him honestly, I just didn't
know. That there was a Mr. X and that I loved him too. He left, and I walked out of the airport in hot,
embarrassing tears. I told Mr. X what had happened. The whole situation after three months had finally hit its climax and I was feeling the pressure to take some kind of action. I was ready to pack my car and drive to Michigan, just to do something to get away from it all. We talked for a little while and in the end he asked me not to make any emotional decisions, but instead to give it a day or two. I conceded. The days passed slowly,
and the black cloud returned. I didn't really get out of bed.
Luckily, I was house sitting, and unemployed, so it worked out in my
favor. Mr. X and I talked on the phone for a while. I think part of
him was fighting for me, and part of him was testing to see if I'd fight for him. But something in me just couldn't.
And that one tiny fact; the fact that I
couldn't fight for him, was what gave me enough motivation on the
third day, to pack up my car and drive to Michigan. Because no matter
what, I was not being good to him, and he was offering me the world.
I left because he deserved someone to fight for him, and my heart was
somewhere else. It was awful. I was hysterical.
I drove for two days like a zombie
across the middle of America.
My family and friends, always always
supportive, welcomed me with open arms. They have become really good
at watching my drama from the sidelines...letting me make my own
choices for my own happiness, and then doing what they can to help me
get there.
In three more days, I was on a plane to
Paris, where Richard was waiting for me. As soon as I saw him, the dull panic in my throat that I had been suppressing for months finally started to subside. That night he took me to a violin concert
at Sainte Chapelle, and then we had a picnic dinner under a glittering
Eiffel Tower. We danced around in the Paris nightlife until 2am. It was so
beautiful.
 |
| Violin Concert |
 |
| Fire Drinks at Buddha Bar |
An 11 hour flight later, and I was
dragging him to the apartment of the California girls. I told only
their mother that I was coming...the girls had no idea. When I
knocked, Marianne had sent the girls to open it. As soon as they saw
me, they burst into tears. We stood at the door, hugging each other, for a very long time. Marianne planned to serve me my first
French breakfast back, and we shared summer stories over coffee and
delicious pastries. I tried to surprise Sylvie the same way that
night, but she had already guessed :-) Her and Manu had prepared my
favorite Creole meal, Rougail Saucisse for dinner, with my favorite
French dessert, a home-made Strawberry Tart. We went to
Richard's parent's house as usual on Sunday. The entire family spent a good
hour discussing what we should do next...how I can work, how I can
get a visa, how I can learn to drive, where I can study French. Just 24 hours back on the island, and it was like I never left, like I never broke
Richard's heart...everyone made me feel so needed and unconditionally loved. And finally, for the first time in a long time, I
felt complete. I found the missing piece...I had left the other half
of my heart here, in Reunion, with Richard, and with all these people who
became part of my life.
Maybe sometimes we are afraid to
believe in fairy tales when we are older, because we've seen too many
of our own stories finish without the happy ending. Or maybe we just
think fairy tales are silly children's stories, pretend words we use
to construct a fantasy world in our heads; a place to go when we need
to escape the normal world of logic. Perhaps my first time in Reunion was
a fairy tale. But who says that makes it any less real? Because after
this summer, I've learned not only that fairy tales can come
true, but they must. So I surrender. I'll keep logic out of
it, and continue to live in this beautiful tale until I get to the
Happily Ever After. Because honestly, what have I got to lose?
