I ran into a former friend in the Emerald City, at Easter Mass — because I’m an Easter, Christmas sort of Christian. I didn’t know he was anywhere near my bailiwick and was rather surprised, but pleasantly so.
“Marcel” was just as handsome and charming as I’d remembered. He felt our chance meeting was Fate. He asked if he might meet me later that week over coffee.
I love a good Chai Latte, and it would be in a public place, so . . . I said yes. I regretted it immediately, but the die was cast.
We had a long chat about many things. It was all very much like old times, right up until he pulled the rip cord and asked
“Why didn’t it work out between us?”
I didn’t answer him. I simply lifted a skeptical brow. But apparently he had no clue even though his recollection of our final moments was fairly accurate. After dinner one night, we took a long stroll during during which I ‘suddenly and inexplicably’ released him back into the wild.
He didn’t recall that during that walk I’d told him I’d once considered becoming a nun. Or that he hadn’t understood I was deadly serious. Or that he laughed at me, and the very idea of me in cloisters.
But for me? His laugh was a dagger to the heart of our relationship and it a big part of why I chose to end it then and there.
And now he’d brought it all up again. It was vividly in my mind. The truth very much ready to leap off the tip of my angry tongue. But I was good. I gave a little shrug and said I couldn’t recall the why of it.
He said he supposed it was something to do with his going to Canada and my not wishing to follow him. I did agree or disagree.
We parted ways shortly after that. I wished him well, gave him my card (yes, I still carry calling cards), then I took a long walk around the lake.
It’s strange how life goes. For Marcel and I, love just wasn’t in the cards. But I think that somehow, because of me, because of that conversation he can’t quite remember, he found his love. And that makes me happy. Though, I’m sure at he never expected he’d end up a Capuchin friar!