YESA
LUCKY SLEEPS CURLED UP against my stomach on the mini-couch in the RV. He doesn’t mind and neither do I. The day after I found him, I made an appointment with a local dog groomer to shave his mats. The knots ran so deep that his black and white fur had to be completely shaved to salvage his appearance and to help him feel better. The countless fleas are long gone and he eats his meals with a vengeance. I’ve been taking him on a one mile walk or run each morning, too. School has started, so we get up earlier now, but he doesn’t mind. When he sees me grab his leash it’s all tail wags and sloppy kisses. We both value our freedom in the mornings.
This morning I’m short on time, so we’re running the mile loop. We rarely see another human this early and there is never any traffic to worry about. Since the RV is parked at Wrenwood State Park, I am surrounded by mature trees, wandering deer and the occasional raccoon or opossum. It’s the best scenery I can ask for. And it always smells like summer, even when it’s not. When I told Trish that, she asked me what summer smells like. To me, it smells like a mixture fresh air, left over campfires and sap on the trees. She laughed and then agreed. I clip Lucky’s leash onto his collar and we begin running down the paved road. We run two-hundred meters ahead of us and turn right. We haven’t been together long, but Lucky already knows the route, I don’t even have to prompt him when to turn. He’s leading the way with his ears pressed back and his eyes focused ahead. Something tells me he’s never been this happy. Running and walking in the mornings has become the best stress reliever. All of my frustrations seem to boil to the surface when I’m covered in sweat and by the time we’ve finished the mile, I feel like I’ve shed that layer of anxiety and I can leave it behind. This morning I’m frustrated about the same things I always am. I would have guessed that my fears of being alone would have surfaced, but oddly I’m not the least bit worried about being single or about temporarily living on a mini-couch in my sister’s RV. Maybe I should be, but I’m not. Instead I find myself frustrated about teaching and longing for something more. I want to start something of my own, something that brings me joy. I just haven’t figured out yet what that is. On every walk or run, as I take a new step, I assure myself it will all work out. But the next day I’m right back at it, racking my brain for that something more. Wondering what will light a fire inside of me and bring in an income.
We turn the next corner and I watch as an opossum scurries off the road and into the words. Lucky needs to use the bathroom so we come to a halt. Admittedly I’m one of those people who never carry little baggies. He does his business and then we’re back into our run again. And then it hits me, just like that. I look at Lucky running ahead of me and watch his tail wagging and I know in my heart this is what I want to do. I’ll start small and build my business one client at a time. Once I have enough clients to go full-time I’ll leave teaching and take the leap as a business owner. Until then, I’ll juggle both. Maybe one day I’ll hire an assistant! Maybe one day I’ll expand to other cities and counties! But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. I have to actually start the business first. My head is suddenly spinning with to do lists and dreams. I feel alive, maybe for the first time. I’m really going to do this. I realize I’ve picked up the pace. Lucky is no longer running in front of me, tugging on the leash. Instead we’re side by side, racing the last quarter mile back to the RV, our temporary home. We’re stride for stride and as usual, when we finish our mile, my frustrations have somehow melted away. I’m energized in a new way today. I know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life and I have Lucky to thank for that. I squat down to my knees and rub Lucky’s fur, kissing the top of his head and telling him good job. I was terrified when I ran out on my wedding. It’s hard to believe it’s been two-months since that time. So much has happened; so much has changed. When I ran out that day I wasn’t terrified of being alone as much as I was scared of what would happen next. I didn’t know where I’d live or who I’d meet. I just knew as odd as it was, it was what my heart wanted. It was right for me. And for some reason, I didn’t let fear stop me. I thought it would, but it didn’t. And now here I am. I run or walk every morning. I have a dog. I am living on a mini-couch in my sister’s RV. I’m actually friends with my sister, Trish. Yes, I’m still in a job that only feel’s so-so, but I’m working on that. I’ve just decided the business I’m going to open. Maybe one day I’ll find true love. Maybe. But even if I don’t, something tells me I’m going to be okay.
TWO WEEKS AFTER THE wedding I single-handedly wrecked, I mailed a package to Jordan. The package contained my engagement ring and a letter. I didn’t want to talk to him on the phone and apparently he’d felt the same way. I avoided email as it felt too impersonal and I was all too aware of the fact that on email words can easily be read the wrong way. I decided a letter was the best way to go. In the letter I took the blame for everything, even though I wasn’t sure I really felt that way. I wanted to convey to him that I was sorry for humiliating him, but that I truly felt I was doing us both a favor. I wrote that maybe neither one of us could fully understand it now, but in time maybe we would. Maybe. I wrote to Jordan that I want us both to find happiness in our lives and for one reason or another it didn’t feel that we would ever find that if we stayed together. I meant that. I’ve learned that two people can fall in love and later fall out of it. Just because love exists for a moment, doesn’t mean that it will always remain. I kept my letter to one page and signed off by wishing him all of the happiness that life can bring. There is someone out there that will make him truly happy and I hope there’s someone out there who will do the same for me. I have to hope there is; because Jordan and I weren’t doing that for each other and it didn’t feel right to pretend to be something we weren’t.
Since Trish and Eddie are allowing me to stay with them until I find a place of my own, I’ve taken on the duty of grocery shopping for the three of us. It’s a small contribution for such a big favor they’ve done for me- and now for Lucky, too. During my lunch period today I spent five minutes scarfing down my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and baked chips, five minutes scribbling a grocery list and the other twenty-minutes doodling in a notebook and coming up with to do lists and name ideas for my business. In the afternoon as my kindergarten students sat in a circle while the school librarian reads them Where the Wild Things Are, I wrestled various business name ideas over in my head and smiled to myself for what I was planning. When other teachers stopped by my classroom to say hello or ask how my day was, they always approached me with a solemn face. They always assumed I would be depressed and angry for the fall-out of the wedding. I was certain my run-away bride stunt had been going around the teachers lounges like wild fire since the start of school. I saw the way the other teachers looked at me and silenced their voices when I entered a room. I watched their sympathetic eyes follow me as I walked through the hallways. I’m sure they love the fact that I’m living on a couch in my sisters RV; it only adds to the drama of “poor Ms. Jane.” But I ignore it all. I smile, not because I need to, but because I want to. They can think what they want about how my life looks or sounds on the outside. It doesn’t matter to me anymore because I’m happy on the inside. So often we, as a society, delude ourselves into thinking that happiness is seen on an external view, when really that’s exactly the problem. External views are merely mirages, distorting any sense of true reality. It’s the internal view that truly exists and only the beholder knows its truth.
I’m in the parking lot of Dots Grocery sifting through my purse to find the grocery list I made at lunch today. I check the new text message on my phone and see it’s from Trish. Come to yoga class with me tonight at 8PM. She’s been begging me to go with her since we’ve been living together. I’ve always said no, but today I say yes. I text Trish back and tell her I will go with her tonight. She replies reminding me to pick up organic orange juice at the store. I add it to my list and toss my phone back into my oversized purse. I head into the store, drawing in a deep breath of cool October air. The sun warms the top of my head and I squint to look ahead, avoiding the cars that are pulling in and out of parking spaces. Everyone’s always in a hurry at the grocery store and the parking lot always seems to be rampant with hurried adults for one reason or another. The double doors open as I enter the store and the greeter offers me a cart and says hello. I push past the check-out aisles, going against the current of customers. I like to walk through the store backwards. It’s something I’ve always done. Dots, like most grocery stores is set up to have the flow of customers turn left when they enter, to start at the produce. I turn right and start at the cheese and juice aisles instead. It always feels like I have more browsing time this way. I glance down at my list reminding myself of everything I need to be sure and get. When I look up I realize I’ve pushed my cart onto the tip of someone’s shoe and quickly apologize. As my eyes rise to meet his I feel faint. It’s Jordan.
I haven’t seen him since he was in a tux and I was in a too tightly fitted white dress. We both stare at each other, our mouths forming matching O’s. I feel my eyes growing larger. I’m trying to say something but the words just won’t come. What do you say to the guy you humiliated? I am clueless. It’s like a car wreck that I can’t look away from. I can’t look away from him but it’s not because I’m happy to see him, it’s because I can’t believe I’m seeing him. How could I have not thought about this? Of course we were bound to run into each other at some point, we live in the same town for god sakes. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean that he ceases to exist. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking, looking back at me. How long have we been standing here? Why did I have to run over his foot with my cart? I have to say something. This is going on too long. It’s too awkward.
“Jordan.” I know, original. All I can think to say is his name. At least it’s something.
“Casey.” His voice is flat, but I can feel the anger hiding behind it. I want to tell him I go by Yesa now, but I don’t want to diminish my name by letting him call me that. I watch as he shifts the weight from one foot to another. I bought him the boots he’s wearing.
Suddenly I remember he gave me the black button up top I have on and I feel myself cross my arms in front of my chest in an attempt to hide it. “How…how are you?” I don’t want to sound patronizing; instead I try to make my voice cheerful.
I watch as he rolls his eyes. Ah, there’s the Jordan I know. His immaturity shoots me back to reality and I remember why I ran that day. I’m glad I ran. “Seriously?” He coughs a laugh.
“All right then.” I look back down at my list for something to do and make an attempt to maneuver my cart around him.
“I heard you’re living in an RV.” He can’t resist. He has to cut me down. It’s tempting to fight back, but there’s nothing here I want to fight for so I don’t.
I push my cart around him and look ahead at the shelves of bread. But I know he won’t let me get away that easily. We might be broken up but I still know him. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” There’s the temper I remember.
Turning my head I look back at him. He wants a reaction. He wants something to win. I smile and feel my grip grow tighter on the handle of my grocery cart. “Jordan.” My voice is quiet and calm. I do not want to cause a scene. “I said everything I needed to in the letter I sent to you. I hope you find happiness. I hope – “ I stop before I say something dumb.
“Why, because you already have? Are you sleeping around with someone else?” His voice is growing louder. My eyes dart from side to side, silently apologizing for the distraction we are causing.
I shake my head, still stiffly smiling. “Because I just want us both to be happy and we weren’t happy together. So I hope we both find it. That’s all.” I think about placing my hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him, but then I think better of it. I turn to walk away, refocusing on the shelves of bread. I’ve never realized how many brands and options there are.
And then I feel him breathing on my neck. He mutters the words through clenched teeth. “It’s your crazy hippie sister isn’t it? Trish told you to run out on me?” I feel the stares of a few shoppers as they pass by. No one stops to relieve me despite their apparent interest.
“What? No.” I turn to face him; we are only an inch apart. I don’t know how to make him leave. His eyes look like fire. He has nothing but hatred for me. Should I turn and run? Scream for help? Dial 9-1-1? But nothing has actually happened. I don’t know what I would say anyway.
“You hope I’m happy? Well, I hope you are. Do you have everything you dreamed of? A mobile house that’s not even yours. You’re going to grow to be an old maid. No one’s good enough for you, are they?”
I have nothing to say. I can’t win. I am happy but I’m not about to explain that to him. And I’m not an old maid. I’m in my twenties. When did that become old? And someone is good enough for me, but it certainly isn’t Jordan. He’s only standing to prove that to me again right now, yet he doesn’t even realize it. He doesn’t see himself as flawed. He views himself as perfect. I put an end to my thoughts, fearful that somehow he’ll hear what I’m thinking. We’re not together but we still know each other.
My back is pressed against the front of my cart. He’s standing in my personal space and I’m afraid to breath. I know he’s not mad at me because I left him. He’s mad at me because I humiliated him. I’ve already apologized for that, in my letter, and I don’t want to say it again. I want to move on and he should too. I know his wounds must still feel fresh but what’s done is done.
“If you’re trying to be cool like Trish, just know, you never will. You’re not that girl. You’re the girl…” He points his finger at me and pushes it forward to stab my left shoulder. “You’re the girl that needs someone to take care of her. The girl who can’t do anything for herself. You’re the girl who runs when she’s scared, who cries when she’s hurt. Because you’re weak. You’re pathetic. You’re a coward.” His eyes are glossy and I know he is fighting tears.
His words aren’t true. I would have been those things if I’d stayed; if I’d said I do. But I didn’t. And so I’m not. I draw in a deep breath and look down at his pointer finger pressed sharply against my shoulder. I take his finger in my hand and gently remove it, placing it back at his side. I squeeze it once and tell him good-bye. As I turn to leave I feel his eyes burning a hole in my back. He thinks his pain is something it’s not. He thinks he’s lost something good, but we were anything but good together. One day he’ll realize that my running away gave him everything he really wanted. One day he’ll realize that what I did was for the both of us; to give us a chance at finding real happiness. But for him, today is not that day.