Clandestine Confessions

He had one card left in his hand – about to win his fourth game of the night.
The clock was quickly approaching midnight. The events of the last hour were a spur of the moment decision. At some point amidst our conversation on Halsey two decks of cards started being dealt – different motives of my friend and his roommate driving their determination to make this happen.
Let me just say, you learn A LOT about a person in a “competitive” environment, and this turned into a lesson that had me even more grateful to know these people – the patience in teaching me, the laughter in the chaos over rule confusion, the relaxed attitude over the outcome.
It was the perfect ending to an already flawless evening.
–
“If I were you, I would put the lowest card down,” my friend said to me as he leaned in close. My turn was before his which meant my next move would make or break him.
Without a second thought, I began to grab the most suitable option based on his suggestion – a 5 of spades.
“Wait. Hold on,” his roommate intervened, handful of almonds halfway to his mouth – adding it to the collection of food he consumed in the past hour: bagel bites, our unfinished dinner, snap peas, raspberry and dark chocolate ice cream, olives.
And despite all that he was still upset he never got to eat his daily one pound (not a typo…) of brussel sprouts that evening after spending the day in Park City with his girlfriend.
“Before you do anything, answer me this; do you trust him?”
–
My friend took a sip of his whiskey and ginger beer as his signature smirk started forming. It reached his eyes right at the moment he looked my way.
I could hear “Love Lost” by The Temper Trap quietly beginning to play in the background.
I moved the cards up to my line of sight, attempting to hide where my gaze was inevitably about to get lost.
The question would push play on the movie of the last two years.
Of all the memories of me handing over my world to him from the moment we met.
–
Not a second of my days go by where I am not reminded of how much our encounter changed my life.
You all see the big ways in which it did – the road trip, the move to Utah, the return to writing.
And while all breathtakingly beautiful, even more so is what that initial hello has done to what is invisible to the eye.
The rules that have been surrendered.
The thoughts that have been counteracted.
The lies that have been debunked.
The resolute hope in my healing that has been restored.
And the fact a 528 just drove up to the window directly in front of me as I typed that proof of those words…
–
I have yet to determine how I am able to hold back the tears when with him – persistently overcome with gratitude by who I and what my life have become since that day in May in 2021.
Especially during this particular evening.
When it was never more prevalent that the disorder officially met a true opponent.
And when my mind, letting out the biggest sigh of relief, joyfully accepted its defeat.
–
The surrender began around noon when he sent me a text asking what I was hungry for if he were to grill. “No preference! Whatever you had planned to make will be amazing,” I replied.
A few hours later I would walk into his kitchen where he was finishing up the last step in the dinner preparation – wrapping, what I assumed at the time, was an array of vegetables in tin foil. There was no part of me that cared how he made it, what he put in it, or what it looked like. Full stick of butter in there? Would not have phased me in the least.
We shared pre dinner cookies while the grill worked its magic which were consumed without any internal debate – no “should I?” or “will I?” or “what if?”. I knew they had a nutrition label I could have read for “safety”, but I also knew what it said would not change my decision. The number irrelevant to my choice to live alive.
He plated my dinner for me without question. It was instinctual for him, as was my acceptance of him taking the lead. It was an answered prayer…to not have to do it all on my own anymore…
We talked for three and a half hours straight. The darkness may have met us out on his deck, but no longer did it dwell in me. There was not a single obtrusive thought interrupting our exchange of words and ideas. Never had I been more present. Never more at peace. Never more still in mind.
Willingly and repeatedly, I relinquished all control, all fear, all anxiety.
And the most important of all, all loyalty to my life of the past 24 years.
The realization flooded my heart that I was living in the very words I spoke during my maid of honor speech at the wedding…

“One of the magical things about love is that when it is right, when it is real, it will make one better. No matter how dark their past, how deep their wounds, how much brokenness in which they have walked – once touched by true love, the past loses its power over one’s identity. It takes the pen and rewrites the future. It adds back the purpose we thought pain may have stolen; awakening dormant dreams, reigniting extinguished passions, inspiring, motivating, encouraging one to live unto the person they were called to be.”

With that, I placed the 5 down on the table.
The answer to the question loudly spoken.