My Summer Break; Logic vs. Fairy Tales

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?