Amber Theriault
Here we were again, having the age-old argument about who to spend time with. Lately, Dan, my boyfriend, had been spending a lot of time with his friends, and I was the one who was feeling a little neglected. Knowing that in a few months we would be going to different universities, I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible; next year he would be living with all of his buddies, whereas I would be a two-hour drive away. Then I said it‹the sentence that could very well have changed the course of our relationship: "Next year, you're not going to be struggling to find time to spend with your friends‹it's me that you're going to have to try to spend time with."
After hearing those words, his face just dropped. It was as if I had said something completely foreign to him. I looked into his eyes; I could tell that he had never given next year any thought. His broad shoulders became tense and sank a little bit, giving his excellent posture a rest. He ran his hands over the legs of his Abercrombie and Fitch cargo pants, attempting to smooth out the factory-pressed wrinkles. He shifted his light frame from his left leg to his right; he had normally been calm and collected, but now he had become restless. I could see a hundred questions racing behind his eyes‹running through his brain‹his face twisted with concern and his eyes turned ugly. Then there was nothing. He was plagued with concern, but his body returned to its normal state. He had pushed his concerns to the back of him, buried them deep within his heart. His silence made my heart sink all the way to my feet; I could feel my toes tingling from the sinking sensation. His silence concerned me; although there were no words to say so, I knew that the worst was yet to come. A storm was brewing in the silence that sat between us, and I became frightened.
A day passed before I could see him again. It was the first Saturday of our spring break. It was supposed to be a Saturday that would normally be filled with the excitement of making dinner and movie plans, not to mention plenty of relaxation. But for me there were no plans to be made; my body was tight with tension. Even though I was worried about what would take place, I jumped into my car and made my way to Dan's house. I could feel that something was not right as I pulled into Dan's driveway. I shrugged off my concerns as I approached his front door, and with each footstep I felt my paranoia diminish. I walked past Dan's father's pride and joy, a 1940 Ford Deluxe convertible, taking deep breaths and hoping that if I breathed deep enough, the pit in my stomach would evaporate. I inhaled deeply and then exhaled, disappointed to feel that pit still churning away inside of me, but gathered up the courage to knock on the door. I knocked three times‹three quick, quiet taps‹and the door instantly swung open. There stood Dan wearing the oldest jeans he had and a plain gray t-shirt. He had an absent look on his face, and when I leaned in to give him a kiss, he ignored my gesture and breezed by me, asking if I was ready to go. His voice reflected the look on his face‹it sounded empty. It was not the smooth, caring voice that I had grown to love; it seemed hollow and sounded strangely out of place escaping from his mouth. I replied with a small "yes," standing somewhere between shocked and saddened. I followed him to his car, not knowing exactly what to think or feel and being sure of only one thing‹I have never felt so distant from him as I did at that moment.
The drive to the restaurant was an agonizing one; it was a drive that we had taken countless times before, but the scenery seemed sadder this time. The music that poured out of the radio did not interest me like it usually did‹it was now mere background music to the drama that was unfolding before me. Dan would not hold my hand or look at me. The simple actions that he would do so affectionately just two days ago seemed impossible for him to perform now. We were sitting two feet apart, and yet it seemed as if I was galaxies away from him, and this distance broke my heart. When we pulled into the restaurant I grabbed his hand; he sharply turned to me and for the first time that evening I looked him right in the eye. He had beautiful eyes, a warm hazel color with a loving aura about them, but instead of looking considerately back at me, he just swallowed hard. "Let's go in," he said.
We were seated at a lovely table in the corner of the cafe, but the loveliness the table created was overthrown by Dan's depressive state. We ordered our dinner, but I could barely touch mine. Knowing that Dan was so upset, to the point that he couldn't kiss me or hold my hand or even talk to me, made me lose any hunger I might have had. Dan finally looked over at me to see me just staring down at my plate, and he asked, "Amber, what's wrong?" I shook my head, nearly in tears, and replied, "Can we please leave?" He nodded his head, picked up the check, and we headed for the door.
When we got back in the car I expected Dan to just start up the car and go home, but a minute passed by and there was no movement in the car. I looked over at him and I finally asked him, "DanŠwhat is wrong?"
All of a sudden the tension in the car came to a peak and he just started crying uncontrollably. The tears were streaming down his face, leaving little paths from his red, bloodshot eyes, and he said between his sobs, "This isn't going to work."
I looked at him in complete disbelief, not registering what I was hearing. My face dropped and my whole body relaxed, for the tension that had been building through the entire evening had finally been broken by those five little words. "Sweetie, why are you worrying about next year? Just two days ago you were perfectly happy with what we had together and now you're willing to throw it all away because of what you think is going to happen? I can't believe this." Dan was the person who had taught me how to trust again, who had renewed my faith in men, who had taught me how to love. I am a better person because of his love for me, and I can't even imagine losing him. Here we were, on the brink of separation, dealing with a conflict that would either make or break us.
Dan looked at me for the first time all evening, grabbed my hand and whispered, "I love you."
Having heard that, I began to feel the tears fall from my eyes, and sobbed, "Then why are you doing this?" I was so scared and confused; I honestly did not understand what was happening to our relationship. I was an eighteen year old girl who knew very little about relationships, but the one thing I was sure of was that I loved Dan. This silence between us was interrupted only by the sniffling back of tears, and then Dan looked at me again and tilted his head to left and said, "You're so beautiful."
"Please take me home." I couldn't take it anymore. I loved Dan with all my heart, but being in that car with him was too difficult for me to handle. He started to cry again on hearing my words. There was a whirlwind of emotional conflict in his Pontiac Bonneville, and I felt as if I were going to drown in my tears. It was so upsetting, being in a situation of this kind of emotional magnitude, knowing that there was absolutely nothing I could say to make him want to be with me. We quite obviously loved each other and wanted to be with each other. Just sitting there watching Dan shed tears over the thought of losing what we shared was breaking my heart.
It had been nearly an hour since we left the restaurant, yet we were still sitting in the car, making the same arguments to each other over and over again. My argument was that I loved him and was willing to wait for him over the summer while he was at basic training and above all else, I wanted to try to make it work next year. His argument was that he didn't want to hold me back from meeting the "man of my dreams" this summer and that because we were going to different schools our relationship just wouldn't work. He seemed so dead-set in his ways, so determined that it wasn't going to work, that I did what I felt was necessary. I looked down at my left hand; there, sitting on my ring finger, was the ring that Dan had given me for Christmas. It was a beautiful ring, an amethyst stone offset with two diamonds in a silver setting, and it was even more beautiful, for it was a symbol of Dan's love for me. I slid the ring over my knuckle and off my finger and handed it to him; although neither of us could hear it, an explosion had just occurred between us.
"Amber, no." Dan's face turned pale and a look of complete disbelief washed over him.
"Dan, listen to me. I'm sitting here, kicking and screaming and you're not listening to me. You don't think our relationship is going to work, and I obviously can't force you to be in something you don't want to be in. This ring is a symbol of how much we love each other and there is no way I can live my life everyday looking at this ring and knowing that the man I love doesn't want to be with me." He had no words, but his face told his story better than words ever could. His reddened eyes looked even sadder than they did before, and his forehead was smooth with concern. I could tell he was questioning what he was doing. After a few moments, he handed me back the ring.
"Amber, I'm not saying that I don't want to be with you. I'm just not sure right now, and I need some time to think about everything that's going on." He looked at me and then at the ring that I was holding in my hand. "I gave you that ring because I love you, and there is no one else I can picture wearing it. Please, keep it . . . don't give up on us."
My face was now red and sticky from hours of crying. I didn't understand anything that was going on. I tried to imagine what was going on in Dan's mind. Why was he so scared about next year? Why was this happening now, a month before prom? Was he unhappy or unsatisfied with our relationship? A hundred questions filtered through my mind so quickly that they became a blur. One minute he was saying that our relationship wasn't going to work, and the next asking me not to give up on us. I suddenly found myself very tired. My body began to sag and my throat became parched; I had started to give up, not only physically, but mentally as well. I started to block out everything Dan was saying. I was dazed and confused, and had given up caring. "Please take me home," I cried.
The drive home was even more agonizing then the drive to dinner, for the only thing I could think of was that this might be the last drive we took together. The thought of becoming strangers with him was terrifying. I had loved him so completely and honestly, with an open mind and a whole heart, and I couldn't even imagine not being with him anymore. I felt as if I was suffocating; my body was filling up with a stifling emotional steam. We pulled into his driveway and parked the car. We sat there for a moment in silence, wondering if there was anything else that should be said. My arms felt like lead as I attempted to reach for the door handle. It took every fiber of my being to open the door and step out of the car; I was a different person now than I was a few hours ago, and I was not sure I liked the person I had been forced to become: empty, alone, scared, and estranged. "Good bye, Dan," and I made my exit.
As I walked to my car, Dan jumped out of his as if to continue the ritual of walking me to my car and giving me a kiss goodnight. I would not have it. His indecisiveness had made me bitter. I longed to kiss him, to hold him close to me, but I knew that this was out of the question. "Maybe you could call me sometime," I said half-heartedly, not really expecting anything to result from this meaningless comment.
Dan watched me climb into my Jeep and turn the ignition. The roar of the V-8 engine filled the silence that sat between us. "Sure. I promise I'll call you in a few days. Amber, this isn't the end, honey. I still love you. I just need time."
In the midst of my tears I somehow found the strength to nod my head. With that I shut my door and started the long drive home. As I pulled out of his driveway I looked in the rearview mirror to see him standing in the shadows of his house, growing smaller and smaller as I stepped on the accelerator. Part of me wanted to stop the car, thinking that if I didn't drive any further he'd still be a part of my life. But perhaps the hardest part of love is learning when to let go, so I sped up, watching the distance between our two bodies grow until I could no longer see him. The drive was a long one; the yellow lines seemed to taunt me. They were dancing and taking shapes that made me question my sanity. I left the taunting lines behind me as I pulled into my driveway. I parked my car and dragged myself into my house, up the flight of stairs that led to my sanctuary, my bedroom, and climbed into bed. I looked over to my bed stand where was a picture of Dan and me at the Christmas ball sitting underneath the light. This was my favorite picture because we were standing so close that our heads came together to make the shape of a heart. I slipped the Christmas ring off my finger and placed it beside the picture. After looking at the two items side by side for a few minutes, I reached over and turned the light off.
Although nobody directly asked me about it, my family knew that something drastic had happened. I eventually broke down and told my mother and grandmother. My mother didn't understand the timing of the event, so close to prom, and my poor grandmother didn't understand it at all. She started crying, exclaiming, "Poor Dan, he's probably so confused!" Their confusion only added to mine. I couldn't escape the thought of him. I couldn't help but wonder how he was doing. The only thing I remember doing was looking at my naked finger. That finger haunted me. After three agonizing days, I couldn't take it any more. I hated being a stranger to him, I hated this awkward feeling of loneliness that filled my body, I hated not being with him. I picked up the ring and examined it. Its deep purple color was both haunting and welcoming, and I held my breath as I slipped it back on my finger. I couldn't give up, I couldn't allow Dan to become a stranger in my life; I cared too much about him for that to happen.
I picked up the phone and dialed his number. The phone rang two, three times and Dan picked up the phone. "Hi," I said very quietly.
"Hi, sweetie." His voice was a sharp contrast to mine‹lively and affectionate‹it sounded normal. This unexpected return to normalcy, regardless of how little it was, made me very happy. Perhaps things were looking up, perhaps he was ready to make his decision. We talked for a little while, about nothing in particular, and then we made plans to go to a movie later that evening. I tried not to get too excited about the plans we had made, because I wasn't entirely sure of the nature of them. In order to spare myself as much heartache as possible I went into the movies that evening expecting to be just friends. I arrived at his house and Dan was outside waiting for me. He was dressed in his normal Abercrombie and Fitch pants with a blue and white striped Vans shirt, and he greeted me cheerfully. His face was cleanly shaven, his hair freshly combed, his smile wide and bright. This was the man I fell in love with.
The drive to the movies was taken in silence, which concerned me deeply. Strangers were silent, lovers were not. The silence between us was broken when we stepped out of the car and he reached for my hand. This simple action screamed multitudes and soothed me. There was a small part of me that wanted to think nothing of this loving gesture, but it was very difficult to keep from becoming excited. I was thinking that he wanted to hold my hand on his volition, he wanted to be a part of me, he wanted to be with me. Dan also had no hesitation in paying for my movie ticket, and he willingly continued to hold my hand throughout the entire film. I had a difficult time focusing on the movie; I kept wondering what he was thinking and what was going to happen. I was so happy and so confused at the same time that it was intoxicating. I looked over at Dan near the end of the movie, and I began to feel tears well up in my eyes. He looked so handsome. The light projected off the screen and illuminated his face, and while looking at him at that very moment, it seemed as if my heart stopped. I didn't want this evening to end. I didn't want him to take me home. I didn't want to leave him. I continued to look at him even though the credits were rolling and people were leaving the theatre. Dan looked over and saw that I was looking at him, and his whole face smiled; he looked happy. This happiness lifted my spirit. Dan squeezed my hand, and that gentle squeeze mended my heart. "Let's go," Dan said with a smile.
We walked back to the car, and I felt compelled to settle this situation once and for all. It was hard for me to begin the healing process when Dan's physical actions did not coincide with the words that were spoken four days ago. "Can we please go somewhere to talk?" I asked.
"Sure, I think that's a good idea." He started the car and he started driving. Before I knew it he was pulling up the steep hill that lead to the Thomas Hill Standpipe. This place was very special for both of us, for it was the place that Dan first told me that he loved me. That seemed so long ago now.
"Dan, these last four days have been the most difficult of my life. And not necessarily because you weren't there, but because I didn't know what was going to happen." I paused for a moment, trying to hold back my tears. "If you had made a decision to not be with me anymore, at least I could deal with that decision. But I'm stuck here‹not knowing how to deal with this. I know you need time to decide, and I respect that. But I can't take this for much longer, I'm sorry. And if you don't decide soon, I will." I felt as if my mental health was at risk here. I had to know how he felt so I could cope with it, but not knowing was killing me.
Dan looked at me sharply. I could tell that he didn't expect me to say anything of that nature. He looked out over the hill, looking down at the illuminated city of Bangor, and then his eyes crossed the river to glance at Brewer. His eyes shifted from the lights of the city to the lights of the standpipe and then back to me. Seeing him looking at me made me lose control, and I began to weep. Once he saw my tears his face wrinkled up with confusion and his body tensed. "Sweetie, don't cry . . . please."
"I can't help it‹I can't stand the thought of not knowing you, Dan. And I know that that is what's going to happen and it's the worst feeling in the world, because there's not one damn thing I can do or say to make you want to be with me."
Dan took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the tears from my eyes, and then handed it to me. I gave a little laugh and thanked him. "Amber, the other day I was listening to music on my computer, and there is this song by New Found Glory called "Sonny." Have you heard it before?"
I shook my head, "No."
"Well, this song reminded me of you. It goes, "Without you, I've lost the best part of my day."' Dan looked down at his hands and then over at me. "What I'm trying to say is I want to try and make this work. Amber, I love you and I want to be with you. And I'm sorry if I hurt you in any way over these last few days, but I honestly just needed some time to figure out what I wanted."
We shared more words and more tears, but for the moment the drama had passed. We held each other close and then looked up at the standpipe. The circle of lights that illuminated the sky was hypnotic, and I felt transported to that night so long ago when we held each other close and shared our first words of affection for each other. We have come so far since then, and yet we have so far to go.
Reflecting on this event is an extremely difficult thing for me to do. Dan left two hours after our high school graduation for Fort Benning, Georgia, for his training in the military. After this incident in the car took place, there was a hideous awkward space floating between us, but that eventually evaporated and things quickly went back to normal. I must confess, Dan's doubt began to form doubt in me, and as the summer drew near I was worried about his true feelings for me. I quickly dismissed them, sincerely believing that I was the luckiest girl in the world to be given a second chance with such a great guy. In Dan's first letter to me from Georgia he wrote this:
Talking to all these new people has given me a new perspective. Many of these fellows have girlfriends, fiancés, even wives and are no older than myself. There's a saying around here that goes, "If she stays with you through this shit, she's your girl." This has helped me see how special and wonderful our love is. Before, I didn't think too much of it, in high school. Now however, in the real world, I see how critical it is. We are going to make it, hun, not just through this, but through next year. If we can stand this, we can stand anything. This experience has shown me, proven to me, it can happen, it can work.
Amber Theriault is a first year student with a secondary education English major. lilaczen@aol.com