Chapter 7: Game Night
On the first Thursday in September, Tabi tells me her friend invited her for game night the next night, Friday. She asks if I’d like to attend. She explains her friend told her to bring someone else because most games take at least four people. I accept.
The next night, I meet Tabitha outside her apartment at six forty-five as planned. I'm carrying a small cooler with a few beers in it.
“What's that for?" Tabi asks, pointing to my cooler.
“Game night, and it’s Friday. I’d like a couple of beers."
“Good idea!" she exclaims, heads back inside, then exits again a few seconds later holding a bottle of red wine.
She guides our walk to her friend’s apartment, which is in the same complex as us. As we approach the door, I recognize the same type of recycling bin as I have and a few potted vegetable plants in the same types of pots Tabitha has. She knocks and the rugged guy from the bar a couple weeks prior answers the door. She gives him a long warm hug. My heart sinks. I want to walk, no, run away. I don’t want to play games with her and her boyfriend. I pound that down and bury it quickly as I enter.
The apartment is immaculately decorated. There is soft lighting, beautiful paintings, and the furniture, tables, and lamps all look like they are out of a home decorating brochure. The whole apartment feels comfortable and romantic.
Damn it.
Brad offers his hand in greeting to me. His handshake is strong and firm. As we are shaking hands, the other guy I saw with Tabitha in the common area walks into the room and extends his hand. Brad turns and introduces me to his boyfriend, Jay.
My heart leaps for joy. OMG! They’re gay! All the trepidation I have is washed away in an instant.
We all have a grand time playing games and talking that night. I drink all the beer in my cooler and Tabi drinks her entire bottle of wine as we stay at Brad and Jay’s until after one a.m.
Chapter 8: Painful Paths
On a cool, crisp Saturday in late September, Tabi and I travel down for another hike in her home-town park. Almost immediately after we start walking, she asks me to tell her about my marriage. She has a way of asking questions that get me to talk. I figure it’s her background in human resources.
It takes a few tries for me to get started, but over the next hour, I spill out my entire story of how I ended up single and living where I’m at. At certain points in my rambling, I get fired up and animated, especially when recalling some of the more devious, manipulative, even emotionally abusive things I endured. Being married to a narcissist is a miserable existence.
“Sorry about running on for so long about it. I guess it was itching to come out," I say.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you could talk to me about it. Sounds like you’ve had a long and painful road too. I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” Tabi says with a tone of genuine care while touching me softly on my shoulder. I feel a cool calmness flow over me with her touch. “Not sure how you came out of all that still believing in love." She scoffs. “My heart would be frozen." She pushes her free hand into the center of her chest. I sense sadness in her tone.
“Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes we don’t know the purpose of our experiences until much later. I can be grateful that my road, though rough and filled with pain at times, has crossed with yours." My tone is purposely positive and uplifting.
“Always finding the silver lining. You talk about me being amazing and crap, but have you looked in the mirror to see yourself? I wish sometimes I could have your heart and be as strong in my ability to love as you.”
“Sometimes the ability is a curse. It opens you up to a lot of pain," I say, recalling the times I’ve tried to love her, but got turned away.
I realize Tabitha is no longer by my side. I turn to find her stopped a few yards back, looking over the field with the oak tree. I watch her quietly as she stares for a minute.
Tabi speaks after a long moment of silence, “Not sure what is worse, being free to love and experiencing pain, or being so afraid to love that it is like being in a prison with no walls or doors, but you can’t break free." Her voice trails off to a shaky whisper at the end of her statement.
My heart feels for her. I approach closely behind her and put my hand tenderly on her shoulder to let her know I'm there. I feel my warm energy flowing into Tabitha. “I spilled my guts. Your turn. What’s your story? What happened with you and Garrett?" I'm surprise myself when I remember his name.
She stares off into the distance and swallows hard, like she is choking back a tear. She then turns and starts to walk down the path toward my truck without saying a word. I watch her for a minute. My heart breaks for her. I want to run up, wrap my arms around her, and tell her how beautiful and amazing she is.
I wish she would let me love her.
I catch up and walk silently beside her. I hope she feels safe enough to open up to me. She walks along quietly staring at the ground. As we get to my truck, I walk her to the passenger side and open the door for her, the way I always do.
Before she gets in, she looks at me and says, “Garrett was my high-school sweetheart…and husband. He passed away from cancer about a year and a half ago." She tries to hold her emotions, but her face crinkles in agony.
She breaks into a sob and leans into me. I wrap my arms around her, trying desperately to completely wrap her up so she will feel warm and protected. Tears roll out of my own eyes as I hear the pain in her sobs. We stand like that for what seems like eternity. I feel my heart radiating love out for her. Not passionate, sensual love, but deep, caring love.
She finally collects herself and climbs up into my truck. I drive us home. Both of us sit in silence the entire hour ride. I walk her to her door and offer a hug. She wraps her arms around my neck, tightly pulling me in close and burying her head in my chest as another quick sob escapes her. I hold her just as tightly as she holds me until I feel her start to relax.
Still with her head buried in my chest and her arms, now loosely draped over my shoulders, she says, “Thank you for being such a great friend.”
“It’s easy being your friend, Tabitha," I respond, placing one of my hands softly on her head. “Being your friend is effortless.”
We separate, and she unlocks her door. Before entering, she turns to find I'm still standing there with love pouring out of my heart for her.
“Thank you." She mouths as her chin wrinkles up. She darts into her apartment and closes the door before the next round of sobs has a chance to exit.
I stand at her door with my heart radiating love for her. That feeling does not subside. It continues even as I lay in bed that evening waiting for sleep to overcome me.
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as much love as I feel for Tabitha at this moment. I recall the day and the genuine pure love I feel for Tabitha and our friendship. Even getting married to my ex-wife didn’t make me feel as good as I feel right now.
