A Magical Transformation

I was going to post a new essay this week, but something happened that dismantled my plan. My ex reached out to me, requesting a meeting, after virtually no contact in many months.

He texted: Hi Stephanie, This may come as a surprise to you, but I was wondering if you are open to meeting with me. There are some things I would like to share with you, that I think would be better to share in person.

My heart stirred… could it be?

Then my distrust alarm went off. He probably wants something from me. He’s having a financial crisis, so he’s going to apologize and say everything he thinks I want to hear, then tell me what a terrible state he’s in, and would I be so kind…

I agreed to meet in a neutral place, someplace neither of us had been to either separately or together. We chose a farm-to-table café / bar in Germantown, in between our respective towns in the Hudson Valley. It is a bright space with marble tables, green velvet chairs, charcoal and white damask wallpaper, 19th century portraits re-interpreted with modern elements, a peaceful blend of old world and new. We met at 4pm on a Sunday, an hour before the kitchen opened. We were the only customers.

He arrived a few minutes after me. I had not seen him since a recent near run-in on Main Street in Catskill, where he crossed the street, seemingly to avoid me. His presence in my energy field incited all sorts of strange sparks. I could not tell if I was still attracted to him, but my body responded with ambiguous flairs. He smiled broadly to compensate for being late and flustered. I had no intention to hug him. I was already sitting and did not get up.

We settled and looked at the menu.

“I don’t drink much anymore,” I said. “Besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to drink during this meeting.”

“I agree… I’m pretty sober these days too.”

We ordered mocktails and citrus marinated olives.

“So…what do you want to share?”

He looked down and took a deep breath like he was preparing himself. I noticed my armpits were wet. I had been nervous all day. Actually, the past several days, since we agreed to meet.

“I learned a lot since we separated, Stephanie.”

I laughed. “I would hope so.”

“I just want to acknowledge all the things I did that hurt you, specifically… things I didn’t acknowledge, wasn’t able to, because I couldn’t even—” He paused as if something was stuck in his throat. “I couldn’t even acknowledge them to myself.”

I mentally listed all the things I had wanted him to acknowledge for so long. I looked at the gray swirls on the table, then into his eyes. Maybe his list was different. “Go on.”

“I acknowledge that I was entitled. I had serious money issues and instead of dealing with them, I expected you to take care of me in ways that were not… relational. It was not your responsibility and I’m sorry I put that on you.”

His voice wavered and his eyes started to tear. I was moved, but held onto my distrust.

He continued. “I acknowledge that I’ve had narcissistic tendencies… that you tried to bring to my attention so many times over the years, but I couldn’t handle it… I didn’t want to face my insecurities.”

“Lost boy,” I whispered.

“What was that?”

“Oh, just… I hear you.”

“I’m so sorry, Stephanie. I know my immature behavior, the overtalking and cockiness and bragging… was painful for you. I’m so sorry I subjected you to that. And I’m sorry it took me so long to understand what you were trying to tell me.”

“I didn’t do a great job at trying to tell you.” I broke off a mint leaf from the mocktail garnish and muddled it between two fingers.

“True, but I know you know that and I’m not angry about it anymore… I know you did your best with what you had at the time.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you telling me all this.” I took a tiny bite of mint. “Although I’m finding it hard to believe.”

“I understand.”

“You don’t want anything from me? Money? Some things you left at the house? Something you need to borrow?”

“No.” He pushed the vase containing a single yellow tulip toward me.

“Oh, that old move.” I smiled, tears in my eyes.

“Some things never change.”

A tear rolled down his cheek. He melodramatically wiped it away. I laughed.

“Oh, and one more thing…” He took another breath to reground himself. “What happened at the end, with Michelle and the business… you were right.”

Now I was the clown, my eyes widening with exaggeration. “Wait, what? Did I hear that correctly? I’m right? You hated me insisting I was right.”

“Yes, in general, that was not productive, but in this case, in this very big case, you were.”

The server came over and asked if we needed anything else.

“Not at the moment, thank you,” I said.

“I needed that interruption, because I was about to start crying. I’m so sorry, Stephanie…” He spoke slowly to control the sobs on the edge of eruption. “I’m sorry I abandoned you, I abandoned us and the best of what we had, for those dead-end pursuits with her. I was clearly having a mid-life crisis and did not want to admit it and expected you to accept me no matter what, as if you’re my mother.”

“Yes!” I said a little too loud and with so much emotion, the server looked over. “We’re okay!” I assured him. I turned back to my ex clown husband. “How did you come to these realizations?”

“A lot of therapy. Psychedelics. And through some people who said things that sounded very similar to things you had told me… that made me start to think, if it’s not just Stephanie noticing this, then I should probably investigate.”

“Wow.” I took a sip of my drink, even though it was just ice.

“I thought, if I don’t look at this now, I’m just going to keep coming up against the same critics.”

“I get that. I’ve had a similar experience.”

He elaborated on his healing journey and I shared aspects of mine.

“Oh!” His eyebrows nearly leapt off his face. “Another thing that helped was. . . I came across some of your writing.”

“Oh,” I said, smirking in half embarrassment half pride.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said.

“It’s a lot to take in,” I said. “So much to process…about the business, are you still…”

“No. No,” he said, laughing, as though I had asked him about something he’d rather forget. “It didn’t work out. And Michelle and I don’t really see each other much anymore.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

We both laughed at the irony.

He enveloped me in a soft, tender gaze. “I’m happy to share more, if you want to see me again.”

“I will consider that. I need time to process… I confess I imagined a scene like this between us, but I never fully believed it would actually happen.”

“I spent so many years caretaking and trying to fix you, Stephanie, when I should’ve been fixing myself.” He put his hand on the table, palm up, in a familiar gesture of offering.

I looked at his hand, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I’m going to the restroom.”

As I hovered over the toilet, peeing, I cried. I washed my hands, delighting in the vintage Peter Rabbit wallpaper.

When I returned, he was paying the check.

“Oh, you—”

“I got it,” he said, waving his hand.

I sat back down and put my hand on the table, palm up. It was always his thing to initiate. Now, he placed his hand in mine.

Scroll down… there’s more!

APRIL FOOLS!!!

This story is complete fiction, although inspired by fantasy.

A real essay post coming soon!

xo,

Stephanie