Leave Room for the Miracles--Part Two

YaYa: Buddy, will you tell my blog readers what you thought when you received the condolence email from me?

Buddy: The day I read your note, I immediately exhaled and thought: “There you are! Where have you been? What took you so long?” But I thought the brief response I composed and sent back was perfectly generic and non-commital. (Laugh)

YaYa: We probably should give some background on our unusual friendship. Do you want to start?

Buddy: We became friends, almost thirty years ago, when we were in our mid-twenties. We bonded quickly and intensely.

YaYa: We shared an affinity for cooking together, eating, dancing, and the outdoors. Buddy had a motor cycle then (and now) and, oh, how I loved riding on the back of that bike. What a liberating feeling!

Buddy: But our burgeoning love did not have a chance to fully flourish. My circumstances…it was an inopportune time…

YaYa: We could not fully commit to each other. The relationship, after a lovely and soulful six months, ended swiftly…and painfully.

Buddy: Timed passed. We did not hear a word from each other for six years, but I thought about you more than you'll ever know.

YaYa: And then…and on this part we are fuzzy …we ran into each other but we don’t agree on the details. My friend Gus seems to remember that one evening he and I were at the movie theatre and saw  Buddy there.

Buddy: I don’t recall that. But here is what I remember of that time: My son was 4 years old and my former wife had recently told me she was leaving the marriage. The legal process of my divorce went relatively smoothly. What it did to me on the inside is another story.

The gavel came down on my marriage one spring afternoon after our being in court for less than an hour. In a coma like fashion, I walked out of the court house to begin the ritual of going through pictures, documents, etc. It was during that time, once again, that visions of YaYa came to me stronger than ever.

YaYa: When we saw each other, my heart went out to you. You were a mess. But in the new year, I would be leaving for California, so I knew we had to maintain a strictly platonic friendship. I tried  to get you interested in one of my sister’s friends. How insensitive of me. I had no idea what kind of pain you were in then. Now, after my divorce fiasco, I understand how very raw you were at the time.

Buddy: It is amazing to reconnect after all these years. I had not seen you since the spring of 1986 when I helped you pack your belongings to move.

YaYa: The irony of it all was not lost on either one of us back then.

Buddy: We kept in touch, periodically, for the next four years.

YaYa: I finished grad school in June of 1990, and in the fall, Buddy and I started making plans to see each other again. But then I got cold feet. I had just started a new career, teaching in a college setting.

I knew if I saw Buddy again… let’s just say… I did not wanted to be tempted to return to New Jersey. Buddy was running his Dad’s business, so I couldn’t imagine that he would move to California; and a bi-coastal relationship, at the time, was unfathomable. Better leave well enough alone. So we severed our ties again. Always, a clean cut.

Buddy: So we had not talked or written to each other since the end of 1990.

YaYa: That’s right. And I met Chaz six months later and married him two years after that. You and I have not been in touch for 18 years.

Buddy: Yup. I had no idea you had married, until I saw that hyphenated name. And then I thought: “This beautiful woman for whom I have kept my heart open all these years just couldn't be married.”

How long did it take for you to tell me you were divorced?

YaYa: I waited for a little over two weeks. I had to think. Truthfully, I did not expect to hear from you. I was sure you were remarried with a slew of children. But when you responded, I knew if I walked through the door that you had just flung open, this would be our opportuned time.







Starting this Monday, March 2, My Seat on the Beach will be published on Mondays.