It was a Summer evening in July. We had stripped down for a late night swim in a lake down the road from my apartment complex after having ingested two bottles of wine between us. My recollection of how Mica came up in our conversation is blurry to me still to this day, but I will never forget those gut wrenching words. Slumped in a saddened posture, Rockko bellowed out in a cry, "Mica was The One I always saw myself getting married to." He had just been recently informed to her new engagement and he acted as if his entire world were now coming to a brutal end. Right then and there, I wanted to leave, and I should have, but he grabbed my arm and pleaded for me to stay. I asked if I had cause to worry about these feeling he had. If he was so adamant they they were meant to be together, why would he bother wasting time being with me? He did his best to convince me that things would be alright....but after four years of verbal abuse by being told how stupid and useless I was, physical abuse that on occasion led to body markings and blacking out, and endless times I contained evidence of him cheating with a handful of women, I kicked him out of my life for good.
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Even in not really knowing Mica, the dust eventually settled after the storm and I felt my behavior and attitude towards HER being the problem was very immature and short-sided. She couldn't control the way that he felt about her. When someone is happy and committed to the one that they're with, nothing can sway their love. The only person we have any kind of power over is ourselves. It turned out that she followed my articles religiously and thoroughly enjoyed reading about my life. She related in some ways to pieces I wrote and felt a bond with me because of those experiences. Over time my anger toward her dissipated and my heart grew bigger, more susceptible to giving her the chance at being my friend rather than the role of foreign enemy that I had blindly cast upon her. Almost two years post breakup, and we eventually connected on Facebook. She inquired about myself, my daughter, and cautiously asked if on her upcoming trip to my state that we could meet face to face. Every fiber of my being had wanted this day to come as well, so I sent her my number and waited for her arrival.
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My daughter and I drove to a local downtown pizza parlor expecting Mica mid afternoon. Within fifteen minutes of sitting, she walked up to the booth looking just as stunning as she does in all of the pictures I had accustomed to seeing over the years. Bundled up for our winter season in her fashionable coat and scarf, her snow white teeth beamed in a smile that ran from ear to ear as I stood and embraced her in a welcoming hug. She sat across from me and spoke about how nervous she was and how long she had been waiting for that very moment.
Why was she nervous? I've never seen myself as intimidating, or one of those women who have a barrage of sheep aimlessly following her around, smitten by immaculate beauty and perfection. If it made sense for anyone to have the jitters, it would be me.