Clandestine Confessions

“So, if no cornhole yet, could I encourage you to do at least one small thing for your enjoyment? Maybe just take an evening to yourself with a good drink, taking in the scenery on your balcony.”
I have sent him a few videos of my view, knowing full well New Jersey is not offering mountains of that majesty for him to witness.
But also, well aware New Jersey is offering to him another type of splendor that my own heart deeply craves…
I took one look at its breathtaking beauty back in March and minutes later I was signing my name to make the apartment mine. (Extra bonus points for it being in walking distance to Trader Joe’s.)
Every move has a motive…one that has taken many forms over every relocation.
I cannot help but feel both humor and pride observing how my priorities have shifted.
•
“Well random J fact incoming,” I said. “I have never tried any alcoholic beverage before.”
“Any particular reason?”
I knew he inquired already knowing part of my answer but appreciated him still seeking for the opportunity to learn more about who I have become, why I am the way I am, what drives the choices I make.
In a surface level world, it is a rare gift to experience people from the bottom of their ocean and to meet people who want to go there with you.
To a ground that aches to be explored, for someone to discover the treasures it holds.
•
“How vulnerable would you like to take this conversation?” I asked.
“To the extent you feel safest.”
“Most obvious answer is given my history and…what shall we call it…?” I lingered here in silence a few seconds, long enough for him to pick up my hesitation was not driven by a forgetting of words but because they were words I was afraid to speak.
“Addictive personality? You are safe to admit that with me. We both have it. Remember where we met…,” he said with a laugh immediately following.
It was a sound that held a divine power to instantaneously release the shame.
And free me to continue without caution.
“So yes, given that little detail, it always felt best to not introduce something in my life that could latch on and lead to nowhere good.”
“Very wise and self aware decision. I am proud of you for that. It is something I think about a lot actually…how we are always ever one choice away from a different path. Especially given our past experiences. I have seen it play out a little too much.”
Our recent conversations since reuniting have revealed that life post our time together has carried immense pain and unexpected hardships for both of us.
Which brought me to the less obvious aspect to my abstinence.
•
“But…there is also another layer to this. Going to get a bit somber so just a heads up. Is that okay?”
“Let’s go there. I am with you.”
“Given I was in treatment for my 21st birthday, my sister told me she would redeem the experience for me, and we would share my first drink together. It was supposed to happen when she was going to visit me in Florida. But…the day she was intended to board the plane is the day everything happened.”
This would become the first time I ever shared that story without tears accompanying the words.
They say that is a sign of the trauma finding closure.
To not feel that familiar sensation as I spoke shocked me, but yet it did not surprise me in the slightest that the healing would be orchestrated for this specific moment.
She was always in it when it came to him.
•
“Gosh, J…I cannot even imagine that pain. I am so sorry.”
He was the first person to reach out after the news of her death was released; despite us not having spoken or seen each other in years AND despite him being someone almost completely detached from social media.
I was sitting in the ICU waiting room, beginning to compose her eulogy on my laptop when I saw the Facebook notification.
And it was in seeing his name appear that a heart that lost its beat having been so shattered by grief found its sound again.
The rhythm never yet heard, to become my new “normal” in the wake of the loss.
It carried a cadence of both sorrow and joy, but nevertheless harmonious.
Nevertheless healing.
Nevertheless hope-giving.
How I managed to feel such a bliss in the midst of the greatest grief of my life is one of the wildest and honestly most emotionally stunning human experiences. It all felt like a wink from my sissy – a precursor to how intently she would take care of my heart in the years to come…
“I got you Roods,” I could feel her saying. Imagining her tussling the hair on the top of my head while speaking it.
•
“So,” I continued. “I told myself if ever I were to have a drink, it would be with a person who Lauren would have given her stamp of approval. There would be no other way to do it.”
A handful have tried to force themselves into that role, attempting to deceive my heart into believing they fit the criteria.
But only I know her final words ever spoken to me which means only I know the one worthy to stand in for her.
“If it brings you any comfort Jenna, I have a strong feeling whoever it is and wherever it happens, she will still be right there with you both. Happy. Proud. Looking at you smiling.”
•
His statement provoked to the forefront of my mind a dream I had in February.
She was in it.
As was someone else.
The latter and the details will remain a mystery for now, but just know there were two aspects of what he said that made me wonder if he had somehow seen what I saw…
•
“Tell him J,” my heart said. The stillness in my darkened bedroom, in the conversation, and in my mind (a rarity) had that whisper sound like a shout.
There was no ignoring it. Even if I was willing to.
•
“You were always Lauren approved. In case you wondered.”
He was the last (and only) one that ever was. Which adds a layer of emotional complexity to this all.
“That is truly the greatest honor. She is an incredible woman.”
She wasn’t past tense to him. That subtle word usage another confirmation she always knew what was best for me.
•
“So, for now, maybe I will just enjoy a good cup of coffee,” I circled back to the start of our conversation.
I could have easily stayed lost in that moment, one well over a decade in the making, if I did not force us to return.
However, all this talk and reflection of my sister, of life, of the past did not place me on that balcony with a mug in hand.
•
To be continued…