The next night I’m at Sweetwaters trying hard to forget the girl who got away.
I doubt I can drown my pain with booze or distract for more than a couple of hours.
I’m talking to Carly, my old colleague, and her face suddenly lights up as she spots someone behind me. “Hey Girl—glad you could make it—sit down here with us.”
The girl squeezes in next to me. “Brooke, I’d like you to meet Sean Langdon—he used to work with me before he moved to U of T.”
I turn and stare into Brooke Wiltshire’s surprised face. My heart stops and I steel myself for a rebuff, but she just shakes her head and laughs, “Small world—he used to work with me.”
Carly’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding—you two know each other?”
“We go back a ways,” I smile ruefully.
“Well then, I’ll let you two catch up. Besides, Marnie’s giving me desperate looks. Seems she needs to be rescued from boring Harold Adams. Have fun, Guys!”
And with that, she was off to the other side of the bar, leaving Brooke and I marooned in an awkward silence.
“I had no idea you knew Carly,” I said lamely—just making small talk to fill the void.
“I had no idea who you knew,” she laughed, as the waitress appeared to take her order.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked.
“I'll have what you have, thanks.”
“Well then, I guess I’ll have another,” I smiled.
She shrugged off her coat, and then sat back in the bench looking at me. “How have you been, Sean?”
She whispered the words, and it pained me to recall how much I missed her voice.
I wanted to say I’d been good, but couldn’t—I couldn’t give her just painted air—all the tears I couldn't weep—truths I couldn't speak—all the words that caught in my throat.
“It’s been rough,” I finally managed to croak.
Her eyes grew huge and moist. “Thank you for that, Sean—for being honest. It’s been hard for me as well.”
I thought she was referring to difficulties adjusting to her new teaching assignment. I fully expected her to launch into some cathartic plaint of campus politics, but she didn’t. She just stared at me as my insides groaned like a folded accordion.
“I missed you, Brooke,” I said. I was shocked I said it, and regretted the words the moment they left my mouth.
I don’t know why I confessed, but I did—unable to dissemble any longer. Maybe emotional stress and the booze was acting like a kind of truth serum, but I no longer cared—I lived a lie for too long.
Brooke turned her head away, completely averting her gaze, and I felt a fool. From this confession there’d be no turning back.
I waited in agony for her to respond—I wasn’t sure if I embarrassed her too much, or if she’s simply get up and leave, but after an agonizing few minutes, she turned back to face me, tears in her eyes.
“You hurt me Sean—we hurt each other. It took me a long time to see what damage was done, or if I could even recover.”
I wanted to die. “I’m so sorry, Brooke.”
“You know, I haven’t been able to sleep. Every night I see your face.”
My heart started pounding and I felt light-headed. I had to wait until my breathing slowed down so I could reply.
“You see me at night? That’s incredible—that’s what’s been happening to me.”
“I know you think I’m a party girl—I’m not. I don’t know why I even came here tonight—probably because someone suggested I was becoming too closed off in my life.”
There was a moment of shared recognition when I stared into her eyes. I figured there was no point in playing safe now.
“I don’t know why I hurt you, Brooke—I love you—I always have.”
Next thing I knew, she was in my arms—neither of us caring what others thought. I was soothing her and stroking her honey colored hair.
I don’t know if it was Fate or a happy coincidence, but that chance meeting changed our lives.
Brooke is still in my dreams but I sleep well now at nights.
I found the best way to love someone is to enter into their suffering—and the best way to tell them is to enter into their dreams.
And Fay was right—you have to be open to the possibilities of second chances.
