In life, sometimes we come face to face with what could have been. We bump into an ex who is now happily married, bouncing a child on his lap. We mistakingly dial a phone number with our asses, that of an ex-fling or long lost boyfriend, only to realize that the number is out of service. Our contact with these idividuals, once limited, is now forever gone. Until the Universe aligns itself, pushing us together once again.
I experienced this cosmic work first hand after Mr. G and I were discovered. He was my coworker. We had chemistry. The Universe brought us together after declaring our feelings for one another, which then led to a magical kiss. It was perfect. I thought he was my soul mate.
Then I remembered he had a girlfriend.
Still, he pursued me and I allowed it, chasing him when he pulled back and vice versa. Like Raymundo, Mr. G also said he’d leave his partner. Unlike Raymundo, I believed him.
He planted a bigger seed of hope when we danced a bachata at a Heineken party we were both separately invited to, bumping into each other once again. It been a month and half since we last communicated and I had resigned myself to a life without him. But that night, as he spun me under strobe lights, he said things had changed. “She’s moving out,” he whispered, eyes lit up. I nodded with an exhale, and asked what was next. “You have to ask? I want to build a relationship with you,” he finished, the seed blooming into a lily.
But that never happened. He never contacted me again and I could only assume she never moved out. Our brief, emotional yet sexless affair was also discovered by our co-workers. And that was that.
Now, we are face to face. It is the morning of my former students graduation, students which I have adored since the very first day I taught them English. I battled over attending as I knew I’d see him here, on stage looking majestic and proud and fine. And fine he is, in his black slacks and with shorter hair. So fine when he greets me hello with a kiss on the cheek. What follows? What may be the smallest small talk imaginable.
I stand in the lobby on my work cell, calling schools for student cases while I wait for my girls names to be announced. He asks how I am doing. Good, I say. He, also on his cell, complains about the service. I agree that it’s shitty and that is that. Mr. G goes on his was, standing outside, attempting to make a call. Probably to his girlfriend, I remind myself while watching him walk away. And walk away he did, without goodbye. We didn’t speak any further and I made no attempt at finding him as I would have years before. We’ve erased one another from each others lives as if that magical kiss never existed.
Brought together by the Universe? No. This was a choice. I just happened to choose wrong.