I first saw her at a grocery store in Urbana, Illinois. The last time I saw her was at a bus terminal in Barcelona, Spain.
When we met, I was in the infant stage of life as a new person. I was a fulltime college student, and, in many ways, I was learning to walk again. I was living alone in a new city filled with unfamiliar faces.
I was born in 1982, and she came into this world approximately a decade later. While I was earning a living dirtying my blue collar, she was studying art history at the Louvre in Paris. She is the belle of the ball and I am the man standing outside smoking a cigarette looking through the window.
Our story plays out, most of the time, with a large body of water between us. Our paths tend to diverge and then cross again. There have been many greetings and goodbyes exchanged between us, each tainted with the possibility that it might be the last.
She once told me that trying to capture love is kind of like trying to hold a lizard by the tail. She was paraphrasing French poetry, I think. I am not well versed in poetry, but the point was not lost on me.
No expectations. No demands. No promises.
I was raised on stories of commitment, the working-class struggle, and the importance of accepting that my patch of grass was not so green. From an early age, my idea of a partnership was an “us against the world,” mentality. I used to believe in the fairy tale that real love is a once in a lifetime occurrence, which turned out to not be true, like many other things I was taught as a child.
My intimate experiences have never fallen in line with tradition. Nonetheless, they are real to me; they are something I know viscerally, have thought a lot about, and will attempt to provide a brief overview of, for the sake of contextualization.
I was a child with a strong desire to feel secure who became a young man armed with numerous demands. I am also a dreamer who always wants what he can’t have. I was always told to dream big.
My first kiss was in kindergarten. My first real crush lasted throughout grade school, and eventually broke my heart when I was twelve years old. I was very romantic in my formative years, and desperate.
I was in a fifteen-year relationship with my high school sweetheart. Despite our vows of commitment, that relationship came to an end, and my heart was broken again. I then became a serial monogamist for five years before finding employment as a stock person at a grocery store near the University of Illinois campus.
I walked across that campus, the day we met, with her number securely saved in the contact list of my cell phone. I thought about how serendipitous life can be. I also thought about how I now had proof that there was a higher intelligence paying attention to my thoughts and listening to my words.
She texted me that night and stated that, after thinking about it, her and I might have different intentions. She explained that her boyfriend would be coming in from Italy soon, and that she was very much in love with him. I told her that I wouldn’t mind being friends, that I would still enjoy sharing a cup of coffee, and that I had never really had a conversation with a foreigner.
I waited days for her reply, maybe even a week. I paced around town asking the sky how somebody so intriguing could casually walk in and out of my life.
Why would the powers that be answer my request and then take it away?
Our first lengthy conversation was marked by the scent of coffee beans and an enticement I had never experienced before. Just listening to her speak was absurdly enjoyable. She confidently showed her intelligence, which made her all the more attractive.
I fell in love with her almost immediately. I had never met somebody who articulated their thoughts the way she did. She had a lot to say about almost everything, and she delivered all of it with tactful conviction and passion. She had done her homework and was eager to engage in conversation.
She talked about world history, anthropology and culture. She had studied in various countries and spoke multiple languages. She lived a life that I found to be fascinating. I could see how those unique experiences had shaped her, which made me want to broaden my horizons; I wanted to emulate the person I saw in her. I was smitten, and there was no chance I could see her as a friend.
She represented wisdom gained from experience and she did so with a simple, elegant and organic style that was not familiar to me. She was clearly not from “my world” and I was more than willing to let her lead me into hers.
We shared many conversations over the next couple of months. Sometimes we drank beer. One time we shared a piece of chocolate cake. Occasionally, we just stared at each other.
Her green eyes were captivating.
There was always a table and we always sat across from each other. Watching her was a wonderful privilege. Spending time with her was an honor.
The location of our meetings eventually moved from local bars and cafes to the kitchen of my apartment. She would stroll from one end of the studio to the other, waxing poetically about wine, art and literature. Those nights opened my eyes to an entirely new reality, which inspired me to rethink the person I had been and could become.
We rarely discussed the fact that she would be leaving at the end of that semester.
I remember thinking to myself that it was important to be in the moment because that reality was too good to last. I knew that our time together was limited, and I soaked up every minute of it that I could.
I was fixated.
She did eventually leave and, when she got into that car, another chapter of my life came to an end. She waived to me, drove off to the airport, boarded a plane, flew across an ocean, and expanded the space my heart could fill.
She left, and I followed; first in spirit, then in person. The fact that I might see her again motivated me to enroll in a study abroad program in Spain. I didn’t know it at the time, but the following year would bring me to many places I had never been before.
I have gained much wisdom from the experience of knowing her. I see things from a wider perspective now and I think of my life playing out on a global scale. I have forgotten about what I thought life should be in favor of knowing what life could be.
I also know that opposites attract. If she is white, then I am black, and the love we share is the grey area. Exploration of the abyss between us has been the most delightfully painful, emotionally turbulent, and patiently rewarding endeavor I have ever committed to.
It is common knowledge that genies grant only three wishes. Perhaps not as well known is the fact that the universe provides an abundance of seemingly unrealistic opportunities. Although I’ve never rubbed a lantern, I am sure that I get what I ask for.
Seconds before this woman came into my life, I made a demand to whomever was listening. I asked “God” to bring me somebody I truly desire. My request was answered in expedition, and this wide-eyed young woman found me in uniform stocking shelves to pay my way through college.
What I hadn’t fully taken into consideration is what my true desires were.
I didn’t want somebody to fill that hole, because I know that is impossible. I wanted a partner who is strong enough to love me while simultaneously remaining independent. Somebody who wants me but doesn’t need me.
The next time I saw her was at an airport in France. We looked into each other’s eyes for the first time in eight months. It was magic and it was beautiful.
Over the next few weeks, she brought me into her world and provided me with a firsthand experience of foreign culture.
We laid in the sun and we swam in the water. We danced. We sang. We explored. We laughed.
We parted ways once again and said what, at this point, stands as our last physical goodbye. She boarded a bus from Barcelona to Zaragoza and I went off to Madrid. While I was studying in Seville, she was an apprentice to a Spanish sculptor in northern Spain. We both lived in the same country for the next few months but never saw each other again.
When the semester was over, I returned to the States and life went on. I eventually left Urbana and moved back to the suburbs of Chicago. Having been forever changed by what had happened, I had a difficult time finding my place in the environment in which I was raised.
The fact that this amazing person would, for the most part, not play a role in my daily life may seem like a cruel sleight of hand, but I see it as a blessing. Our relationship has taught me a valuable lesson: living without expectations allows room for the magic of life to unfold.
I can continue to dream big and not feel foolish about it. I no longer think of life as dull and boring. I can entertain the idea that unicorns exist and still feel like a reasonable person.
How many times can a person say viola in a single conversation? How many languages does a person need to speak in order to convey their thoughts? What can be done in the name of love?
I will always remember her playfulness. I will always remember her joy; her whistling and her singing. The way she taps her hands on the table top as she presents her well-rounded opinions.
She is a thief. She stole my heart. She is an elusive criminal.
She is also an artist; in some ways aspiring and, in more ways than one, accomplished. Just like all artists, she creates; sometimes consciously, sometimes not. Whether or not her creations are intentional, whether she is aware of it or not, there is much beauty in what she does.
I have often described myself as a hunk of wet clay, ready and willing to be shaped by life experiences. I like to think that I am capable of being molded to whatever form I may need to take; a bit of a shapeshifter. I may create my own reality, but she now seems to have an artistic hand in every aspect of my life and who I am.
Scott Christopher Barnes 