Clandestine Confessions

“The menus are customized for you.”
He looks down.
“S—- : Party of 2” written on the top left.
“Ha. Definitely a first.”
“At what point will we acknowledge we may be a bit in over our heads?” I half-jokingly asked.
“Never. We earned this moment of life.”
“That we have…” my sentence trailed off as his words sunk into my heart.
I know he was referring to because of how hard we work, but that statement held many more layers for me.
None of which he had/has yet to learn.
I am still “just Jenna” to most here in Utah, and I am finding, for now, I thrive best in my past’s anonymity.
–
But this life, to reach this place, to be standing in that restaurant, cost me blood, sweat, and tears…literally.
Despite how painstakingly hard I had to work, I will never regret a second of reaching the very end of myself and my life in order to build the one I have now.
I would do it again a million times over for this outcome.
And it was only going to get better…
–
We picked each course we wanted, agreeing to not get any of the same so we could share.
And we would.
Each putting half on the other person’s plate.
Then giving alternating reviews, depending on who took the first bite.
One dish had us converted to loving beets.
Another had us calling gnocchi a favorite food.
Another had us surprisingly impressed by the tenderness of pork belly.
All of them having us question how we could ever return to our now perceived “bland” cooking.
–
The food kept coming out.
Plate after plate.
Some not even ordered by us but being given for free because he knew the chef.
“I cannot breathe,” I lightheartedly stated halfway through.
“I do not think I have ever eaten this much before in one sitting. But we are now committed. It is too good!”
–
It was the first time since I was 8 years old that I allowed myself to feel “full”.
Physically and emotionally.
Whenever I would get close in the past, I would engage in every maladaptive coping mechanism to empty myself.
It was my biggest fear to not feel space within myself.
The worst nightmare to my soul to feel like I was now expanding the blueprint of my human existence…
A shame so deeply rooted.
–
But yet there I was, in this experience I thought would catapult me straight into a panic attack, feeling more like I was in my greatest dream.
Only wanting to be filled more…
With life and bliss and hope.
And dessert…
–
“You know,” he said. “It is moments like this where I completely understand your theory to eat dessert first.”
It was one of our conversations on the night I met him.
Right after they brought out the Smith Island Cake and tiramisu at the rehearsal dinner.
I shared with him how dessert first needs to become a rule because you never know what could happen during dinner that could cause you to miss out on the best part of the meal.
–
My mind went straight back to that night…
How he immediately got up and grabbed me a slice of tiramisu after I mentioned it looking good.
No delay, no assuming I would say no…
I could not recall the last time anyone treated me as a person with a “normal” mind.
Such a response then demanded that I live as such.
As a woman already healed.
One I was also living as on this night…
–
“We really should have implemented that today,” I replied with a laugh.
And as if right on cue, our waiter came back to our table.
“So what are we thinking for dessert? We have carrot cake, olive oil cake, and chocolate cake.”
One of the three is my favorite dessert.
But I did not tell him that.
“All up to you,” I said to him.
“You sure?”
“Positive! They all sound good to me.”
He leaned a bit back in his chair, ran his fingers through his hair as he gave it some thought.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go with the vegetables.”
My smile instantly formed.
He looked my way.
“Good choice?” he asked.
“The most perfect one.”
–
This was more than just my preferred option.
It was the redemptive one.
The wounds from one of the most traumatic days of my life, my 30th birthday, ever so slowly, receiving their healing.
That was the last memory I had of carrot cake.
And tonight, that memory would be rewritten…
So perfectly composed with light and life.
–
They ended up bringing us all three options as we were the last ones there.
His friend came out to enjoy them with us.
“It feels surreal to be living this kind of life,” my friend said to us. “When just a couple years ago I was wondering how I was even going to get by.”
–
I ate another bite of the carrot cake.
Took a look out the window at the snow slowly falling in this beautiful town in Utah.
Listened as Glass Animals played quietly throughout the restaurant.
Felt the life flowing through my veins.
And in a voice ever so grateful, replied…
“Ditto….”