It started out like those things often start - fast and unexpected. In many ways, she was the woman of my dreams. Her smile, her laugh, the way her lips curled. Her hair was just right and always seemed perfect to me, frizzy, straight, short, long, when she woke up or just stepped out of the salon getting it done, it just didn't matter.
In many other ways, she was the one that brought me down. Her uncontrollable anger, the extreme emotions, her vulgarity. She wore me out over time, and the ability to handle her became harder and harder. In the end, I regretted more than I didn't, and realizing that one day was my queue to make a change.
She was a smoker. She started smoking as a teenager, stealing packs at a time from her mom, smoking with her friends at school, behind the building. She got caught one time, the principal called her mother in for a talk. Her mother started saying she had no idea, continued with a louder tone that her daughter can do what she wants, she can't control her anyways. The principal pointed out the legality of the situation, and said it would be a shame to call in child services since it's illegal for children at that age to smoke, and the adults who supply them can get in trouble. In the end, there was a standoff, and both parties walked their separate ways without a real conclusion. All that really happened was the warning not to get caught again.
She was a singer. Her raspy voice served her as an outlet. She was lost in music, imagining herself in different places, in different bodies sometimes, as different people. She told me once that standing on stage was the best thing for her, her imagination let her be someone else almost every time, someone new and good and pure. Someone that didn't have her childhood, her history, her mistakes in their past. Sometimes she'd pretend to be a child, other times she was old and tired, but the feeling of being on stage provided a relief for her that was like no other.
With all her good and bad, in the end she was just a person. Like the rest of us, she had her desires, she had her goals, she had her fears, and had her simplicity coupled with complexity. She came into my life in a storm, and like most storms she was gone just as fast. The destruction in her wake was like no other before her, and in all the years and all the people that have been in and out of my life, none have left such an impression for so long.
My work was never simple. The routine was almost monotonous, and jet-setting around the planet didn't make it any better. Instead of spending time at home I spent time on planes. Instead of friends there were hotel bars. Home was just a word, not a place. There were things in storage, from years ago. After that last time I settled down, things with sentimental value. Stuff, it was all just stuff. Pictures in frames, little trinkets and souvenirs, some childhood news clippings my mom kept around for no real reason other than a sentimental one.
It was at a hotel bar in Iowa that we met. Random Tuesday evening, back from the client's office after a long day of meetings and taking notes about things that I will not remember later, another mundane and seemingly boring day that is about to reach its end, sitting at the bar staring at a hotel lounge TV screen. And she asked me for a smoke. That's how I remember it all started, but she told it differently. She remembers the drinking part, two strangers on the bar talking about boring current events that will also not be remembered later, drinking together just to not be alone. The next night I flew out, with only a memory and no way to reach her again until the next time.
Back then I was flying in and out every other week to my client, racking up frequent flyer miles and hotel points. The staff at the hotel had the same room ready for me every time, and knew my schedule sometimes better than I did, coordinating with the office travel manager. I knew the bartender by name, the front desk people's kids names, and shuttle driver was waiting for me at the airport with coffee for me. It's a strange feeling having strangers slowly change into friends, but you don't really know if they are friendly because they are paid to and it's their job, or they truly care. And Virginia was entertaining the hotel lobby with her singing and music and friendly chitchat with the regular patrons, so we talked for hours on the bar the first night.
The next time around she was waiting for me as I arrived. I was happy to see her in a way that baffled me, looking forward for more conversation, more of her company. The feeling was mutual, I could tell right away, and the evening seemed to shoot by quickly with a drink at the bar and her singing. This time around I made sure to get her contact information, now that I was sure she was not friendly because she was paid to be. And the feeling of joy from meeting someone new that made me feel like I wanted to get to know them was indescribable, I mean how often does that happen as adults nowadays?
We started talking all the time. From long emails with stories about our past to short messages about our day. I told her about my dad and she told me about her brother, I shared my ideas for world domination and she joked about a weekend getaway. Our meetings every couple of weeks felt like we never skipped a step in the conversation, and the first two months went by so quickly I didn't even realize she not once stepped foot in my hotel room. All along we met at the lobby, or video chats, but never really in an intimate setting.
My need to visit this client in Iowa has ended, and I had to tell her that. I feared that moment, thinking that she would smile and say her goodbye in some funny quirky way. Instead she asked if that meant I will no longer stop by, or perhaps there's a chance we can keep this going somehow. It was my last week there, and I didn't like thinking we will not meet again, so I changed my flights around to continue passing by Iowa, frequent stopovers, weeks off were spent there, and weekends when possible. If you don't really have a home, then any home will do. If there's no real family waiting, the people you chose for family are better than loneliness. And with that we changed the nature of our relationship, after months of friendship.
Things changed one day, but I couldn't put my finger on it exactly.
Telling me about her parents, she wanted to live her life differently than they did, not the way she was raised. I didn't understand exactly what that meant, but I felt compelled to help. That was always my problem, trying to solve problems even if they were not there. If women want to change men, men want to fix women. At least that's what the self help books taught me many years later....But Virginia didn't want to change me any more than I wanted to fix her. I just wanted to help, and it sounded like she wanted help from me. So I poked the bear and started asking questions. That was the turning point.
While telling stories you get to know someone by their reactions, their questions, their emotions and behaviour once they know more details. The first time you see a cute kid that kicked a ball outside of their playground towards you, it's easy to kick the ball back. If the kid yells at you instead of simple gratitude, the second time it happens you will not so quickly be helpful in returning the ball. It's just different when you know the kid is an asshole. With Virginia it was sort of similar, except I continued to help even after I was yelled at the first time.
At first the yelling wasn't directed at me, it was done more next to me and directed at other people. Some times I could relate, and even wished I had the ability to raise my voice that way. Some times I would tell her a story of something that happened to me, just to see her get angry and describe what she would have said or done, to let my mind and imagination wonder. Some times I became manipulative enough to get a rise out her and then send her off on someone else. That time at the movies with the teenager selling popcorn was one of the worst I've seen her - she blew up on the girl in such a way that I had to apologise to the manager and make sure the girl will not lose her job. It wasn't long after that incident that I became target of her outbursts.
She was the woman of my dreams, from afar. When we got close I learned that I am a loner. She couldn't leave her little place she called home, and I am a nomad without a home. My yin to her yang worked for a short while, but eventually it wasn't enough. It lasted long enough to teach us both a few things about life, people, relationships, and ourselves. Opposites can attract, and opposites can repel, and in the end things are what they are, regardless of what we believe them to be.
