Even though I’m uber happy in my marriage, and life is grand – I often find myself in a state of reflection, wondering if people from my past ever think about me. Do I cross their mind? Does it make their heart ache? The one’s that left me, or did me wrong, do they think about me and how good they had it?
I wonder if it’s normal for me to wonder these things. My first boyfriend (I was 15, he was 20) sends me a message on my birthday every year. We don’t speak a lot beyond that since he lied to me a few years ago and told me he had marital problems, and then his wife went through his phone and let me know otherwise (while also telling me I should be ashamed of myself for messaging a married man) – uh, hello? His messages included things like “I’m sleeping on the couch. We just don’t have that connection. We are passing ships in the night.” Apparently that was all horseshit. He was telling me that he has always envisioned us growing old together and bitching at each other in the nursing home. But seeing as that he lied to me, I thought it better to just let that go. I didn’t want to be with him ever again anyway, because homeboy had a problem with lying.
But still, I didn’t realize until that moment that he even thought of me. At that point, we had been apart for 12 years.
I wonder if The Abuser ever thinks about me, or misses me in any way. Not that I would ever wish us to be together again, but I find myself really curious about the imprint that we leave on peoples lives.
I went over to my brother-in-law and mother-in-law’s house last weekend to drop off something and pick something up. It’s always a lot more relaxed over there when my husband doesn’t go, because the tension that ebbs and flows from my husband in regard to his drunk brother makes me want to haul ass away from that house. But when it’s just me over there? We have a great time. I can handle my BIL’s drunken silliness. It makes me sad for him, but it doesn’t bother me the way it does my husband. So, I sat over there and chatted with them for about an hour and a half, and my BIL wanted to do this silly game where he played music from YouTube off of the TV and I had to guess the song and artist.
The very first song he played ….
The first four counts of the song and tears sprang to my eyes. I looked at him with questioning eyes. He stared back at me silently, saying everything without saying it. I was thirteen again. Laying on my bed, listening to the Titanic Soundtrack, followed by Celine Dion’s “Let’s Talk About Love” Album. I’d hear the sliding glass door open, and rummaging in the kitchen. I would put down my Babysitters Club Book and walk down the hallway, a smile already on my face. He would be sitting on the floor, indian-style, bowl of fruity pebbles on his lap, watching MTV. It was usually around three in the morning that he would venture over. I was always awake, always waiting for him. Some nights he didn’t show. Some nights he would come over and borrow my bike so he could go see some girl in the next neighborhood over. Those nights broke my heart. But the nights he did come over ….. those were the best.
It wasn’t just about the teenage making out. We didn’t always do that. It was about the bond we created.
And what’s funny? Up until last weekend, I always thought he didn’t know shit about me. My BIL always seemed to be the unaware type. Unaware in things that didn’t involve him. I spent almost twenty years thinking I wasn’t anything to him other than what I could be in the single moment he needed me for something.
And something so simple as playing this song last weekend, and looking right into my eyes? I think I died a hundred times.
What’s ironic? My husband has not one clue the importance of a song like that. Or what a fangirl I am of Celine Dion and everything she sings. Why? Because he’s my future. My BIL was everything in my past. And somehow I managed to marry into the family, like I always wanted to – but with the brother I never paid attention to. That shit still baffles me. Like, how did this happen?
How did I spend my life hardly paying attention to my husband, and then in the space of one single day, my entire world tilted off of its axis and suddenly it was the most obvious of things standing right in front of me? I can’t even describe what happened to me. It was as if every single answer to every single question lied within my husband. It felt as if all of the bullshit I had ever been through, didn’t matter anymore. My mind cleared, the sadness lifted, and all I could see was his beautiful, handsome face.
I still find it …… I don’t know ….. weird, I guess? How his brother is my past and he’s my future, and the two intermingle constantly. In the physical sense and in my mind. My first love and my last love.