Feels Like the First Time (24 page)

“So, this is really it then?”

“Yes.”

She hung up.

A weight lifted off me. I did not enjoy that conversation in any way, but it was evidence of how little emotional investment I had left in the relationship. All I felt was relief that it was finally resolved. I felt bad that I had waited until Adinah was 2400 miles away before I had this talk with her. I suppose it was because of my lifelong fear of confrontation, a residue of the violence I experienced as a child. I associated confrontation with physical fights. Unfortunately, that unnamed fear caused me to put this off much longer than necessary.

I spent the rest of the day hanging out with my daughter, Samy, and my grandbaby, Amelia, who we called Millie. Millie was born on Samy’s birthday the year before and was ten months old now. She was learning to walk and spent the day amusing us by doing her drunken sailor walk–one step forward, two steps back. Spending the day with Samy and Millie was just what I needed.

Dawn had to work for the next few days, but we still hadn’t decided how we were going to meet. After a few days of negotiating, we finally settled on that Friday night. Dawn had to work, but she would be done by 5 PM. She worked in Tumwater, about an hour away from Enumclaw. I decided to drive us into Seattle. That would give us a chance to talk before we got to the restaurant. Even if dinner didn’t go well, I would have the drive back to Tumwater to say goodbye.

When Friday finally arrived, I was so nervous I couldn’t work. I was afraid she wouldn’t recognize me again, or would be shocked at how fat I was. I had gained 100 pounds since high school. Worst of all, I was afraid she just wouldn’t care about me one way or the other. I left work earlier than necessary, because I couldn’t take sitting behind my desk anymore. I stopped at Target and bought a new shirt and some deodorant, in case what I had put on that morning failed.

I ran into terrible traffic, but still got there in plenty of time. I got off I-5 at Exit 99 and drove straight to ACS, where Dawn worked. It was a tin, rundown building that wore years of neglect. I pulled into a spot off to the side, thinking that would give me a chance to see her approach. I wasn’t sure I would recognize her, since I hadn’t seen her in two and a half years.

I texted her to let her know where I was parked, then tried to stay cool. I made two CDs for filled with our songs from the ‘70s. I slid one into the CD player and
My Angel Baby
by Toby Beau started to play. I fidgeted in the driver’s seat for a few minutes before I got out and leaned against the front fender, hoping in vain that it made me look a little cooler.

I watched people straggle out of the building. After a few minutes a woman walked toward me. I knew it wasn’t Dawn because she was too young. She kept walking toward me until I had to smile at her. She smiled tightly back at me and I realized with a shock that it was her. She looked so young I didn’t recognize her.

She was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She was shorter than I remembered–even though she stood on the curb and I stood on the ground, I was still taller–and her hair was longer and blonder than when I saw her last. She wore a long purple and grey top, black capris, and clunky sunglasses that hid her eyes.

My first thought was that it wasn’t fair that she was still so good-looking after all these years. I had changed so much and she looked the same. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“What?” she asked. I looked away from her and looked back. She had caught me staring. She was never bashful about calling me out. I shook my head and smiled nervously at her.

“Nothing. I’m just looking at you. You look so good.” We paused awkwardly and smiled. I scrambled for something to say. “I thought I’d drive us into Seattle for dinner so we’d have a chance to talk on the way.”

“That’s fine. Let’s go.”

I wanted to walk around and open the car door for her, but she seemed guarded and distant. I climbed in the driver’s side, waited for her to get in, and pulled back on to I-5 North. Dawn looked straight ahead or down at her phone. She was texting with her left hand. I’d forgotten she was left-handed.

I made casual conversation with her in between texts. We’d started to establish some intimacy in our emails and phone calls, but that seemed to have vanished. I felt like I was driving with a hitchhiker, vapidly trying to start a conversation. I could feel who she was so strongly, but I was a complete stranger to her. I turned the music up and told her I had made the CD for our drive.
I Will Still Love You
by Stonebolt was playing.

“Remember. This is the song you asked me to remember when I left back in 1979.” She nodded absently and looked straight ahead, but didn’t say anything. I began to think this was going to be a long night.

I finally broke the awkward silence that had been building. “So, I guess there are a few things I need to tell you about, now that we’re face to face.”

“Like what?”

“Pretty much the last thing I want to talk to you about is my marriage. But I need to. Adinah and I got married eight years ago. I knew it was a mistake immediately. I’ve been trying to end the marriage for years now, but I haven’t been able to get it done.”

“Have you ever tried saying ‘I want a divorce?’”

“I hadn’t until just a few days ago. I finally told her last Saturday. It’s hard to explain why it took me so long. I feel guilty for marrying her in the first place and I guess I haven’t wanted to admit I screwed up that bad.”

“So if you’re still married, what are you doing out with me? I’m not going to be any part of ending your marriage.”

This wasn’t going the way I had practiced it in my head. Things rarely did when I talked to Dawn.

“Believe me, everything to do with ending my marriage started long before we started talking again. I told her I didn’t love her years ago, but that didn’t seem to matter. We went to marriage counseling for years, but nothing happened because I was just trying to figure out the easiest way to end the marriage.”

I took my eyes off the road for a second and turned my head to look at her, hoping for a clue about how she was taking this conversation, but she was hidden behind her dark glasses.

“Dawn, I know we don’t really know each other anymore.”

“That’s right. You don’t know me now. I’m not that little fifteen-year-old girl you left behind.”

“Thank God. I loved that girl, but I’ve grown and changed over the years. Listen, I don’t have any expectations about where we are right now. You don’t owe me anything. If you want to have dinner with me and say goodbye forever, that’s all right.”

She didn’t answer, but looked straight ahead, her jaw set.

I drove us through Capitol Hill traffic and pulled into the parking lot next to Charlie’s on Broadway. Charlie’s wasn’t the fanciest place in Seattle, but it was one of my favorites. Terri and I used to go there for brunch on Sundays, sitting by a front window watching the colorful locals wander by. The
maître d’
sat us in a quiet booth on the side of the restaurant. It was perfect for conversation.

We sat down opposite each other, and for the first time I got to look at her without sunglasses covering her eyes. She looked so much like her eighteen-year-old self, I would have known her anywhere. There was wariness in her eyes, but I also saw a flicker of warmth.

I kept looking for anything to break the ice, but nothing seemed to work. I tried to lighten the conversation.

“Did I mention that I like to cook now? I know I was completely helpless in the kitchen when you knew me before, but not anymore.”

“Did you used to cook for the girls you went out with?”

I smiled and said, “Yeah, of course I did.”

“And that worked for you, huh?”

It was clear I wasn’t reaching her on any level. Finally, I realized there was no room for small talk.

“The other day in one of our emails,” I said. “You mentioned that you resented me for a long time because I manipulated you into having sex when we were young.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well, I want to talk to you about that, because I have a different memory than that.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m saying I have a different memory of that time. I remember that we had both decided that we weren’t going to sleep together.”

“Right.”

“But that one time we were together on New Year’s Eve, it happened because of you, not me.”

“I’m not following you.”

“On that day, you called me and started the conversation by asking me if I was still a virgin, remember? Then you told me the address of the house where you were babysitting and told me to be there at ten. That was the reason we slept together.”

She looked away. I could tell she was sifting through memories. Finally, I saw it click

“Oh my God.” She paused and I waited for her to speak. She stared at the table, then looked up to meet my eyes. “You’re right. Why didn’t I remember that? Why did I remember things so differently?”

A sense of relief washed over me. I had been beginning to doubt my memory. I didn’t know what I would do if she remembered things differently.

“Well, you were young. We never really talked after that night. I’m sure you built up some defenses and Walt and Colleen helped fill in the blanks the way they wanted you to remember things.”

We had been at Charlie’s for more than an hour, but it felt like we were just starting to break the ice. Our meals sat untouched in front of us. Our waiter came by to see if there was a problem and disappeared when we shook our heads.

Dawn began to poke at her food. We ate quietly and I could tell she was thinking about something. I was staring into my food when I heard her fork clink on her plate. I looked up to see her staring at me and shaking her head. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.

“Dawn, what?”

“You’re my Shawn.”

She said it like it was a new revelation.

I reached out and took her hand. It fit mine like always. I watched her firm veneer melt away and a tear streamed down her cheek.

“You were my Shawn.”

“I always have been.” Tears were in my eyes too.

“I’d lost who you were. But now I remember. I blocked out so much. Shawn, I’m sorry.”

We sat quietly as the minutes stretched out. All conversation was lost in the moment of rediscovery. When I looked at the time, I saw that we had been sitting in a prime booth at Charlie’s for three hours on a Friday night. No wonder the waiter kept wandering by every few minutes. I paid the bill and we headed out.

The ride back to Tumwater was much better than the drive up. We talked about Jerry and Chip and how we made fools of ourselves in KISS II. We talked about the music on the CDs and what each song made us remember.

I finally pulled back into the ACS parking lot and pulled alongside Dawn’s red Grand Am. It was close to midnight and I knew Dawn needed to get back home to Dani. I put the car in park but didn’t turn the engine off. I turned to Dawn and gave her every opportunity to let me down easy. It was a great night, but I knew there was still a chance she wouldn’t want to see me again.

I wanted to give her an easy chance to walk away from me, so I said “Thank you for tonight. Getting to see and talk to you means so much to me. At the same time, I know you’ve got a lot going in your life. Dani’s going to be having her baby soon, and you’ve got to find a new place to live. You’ve got your job. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and I don’t know if you want to make room in your life for me right now.”

Her eyes crinkled with laughter like they so often did when I said something dumb. “Yeah, everything’s worked out great for me without you, hasn’t it?”