Sep 25, 2012

The surprise.

Two Saturday's ago. I was at the bar with friends celebrating academic accomplishments. 

In a red dress, leopard heels, and brimming with gallons of happy energy. 

I felt a tap on my shoulder, faint but purposeful. 

I turned.

And found myself face to face with my Ethiopian love. 

Anxious eyes, a nervous smile, and that sweet little mole on his chin.

Gasp! 

"You're back." 

"This was the 'surprise.'" 

(I had been told for the past few weeks I would have a surprise.)

And there he was, flesh and blood. Smelling of expensive cologne. Looking dapper in a sweater vest. 

No longer a phone call to another corner of the earth. Touchable. 

I knew it was coming. I knew he would come back, for me. 

Then flowed emotion. Shock. Confrontation. Joy. Pain. Questions. Accusations. Forgiveness. 

A week of discussion, tears, milkshakes, hair massages, slow kisses, story telling, homemade dinners, long bus rides, memory recollecting, laughter. 

Rekindling. 

But trust, once lost, is difficult to find in the rubble of a young, broken relationship. 

My eyes gave me away. 

"You look at me like you think you are making a mistake," he said. 

"Marry me in two years," I said. Challenging. Hoping. Trying to piece together what I want out of my future and my present. 

"I can't."

And with that, we found our ultimate divide. I hope for marriage. He doesn't. 

"We are wasting each other's time."

And with that he left. 

But not after one last kiss. 

I slobbered on him, tears uncontrollable and snot unavoidable. 

Forgetting I live in a dorm, I wailed. 

And wailed. 

And wailed. 

Til a neighbor friend knocked on my door. 

Then I made slobbery, teary jokes to cover my embarrassment. 

Typical. 

So like that,

After 7 days in person, my love has been lost yet again. 

Three break ups. One person. 

Too much. 

He brought me this scarf from Addis Ababa, the city called "New Flower." 




I will wear it with joy of a story in my past. A story that ebbed and flowed in dramatic fashion. A story that taught me how to love and respect myself. A story that finally got closure. A story that does not give me pain, but instead leaves me with a longing for something better. 

And I will move on. 

Ever forward. 

Chasing the light. 

Who wants to marry me? I'm available.*

Just kidding. 

Kind of. 



*Exotic upbringing and chin moles not required. 










walk slow. xoxo. 

2 comments:

agapelife said...

I hope this isn't insensitive to say considering the content of what you just wrote, but you are a seriously good writer,
I know what it's like to have a broken heart, and know that if there are words that offer consolation,I don't know what they are.

Xoxox

Miss Lynda said...

Aw-w-w, my sweet Jessica. I am hugging you so close in my heart and mind. I hurt with you, but am blown away by the beautiful, insightful, courageous,optimistic and honest young woman who just wrote those incredible words. Your future is still under construction honey, but trust that the "architect" knows what he is doing! We love you and couldn't be prouder of our girl!