Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.
Hearing her voice had started to really change things for me. At first she would only sing to me, leaving a voice memo in my email, she had a beautiful voice. She was also socially awkward, imprecise, cute, whimsical, and even occasionally haughty. I loved her messiness, the way she enunciated her words in funny ways at times, her occasionally nervous habits that would come through over the audio. Every detail painted a picture in my mind of who she was. And she’d bring to life in my mind the many characters in the story of her life, her controlling, egotistical husband, her waffling former affair partner, her ex-boyfriend, her sister. Most love interests she had in her life seemed either cruel or petulant, with very little in between, at least from her perspective, she seemed to think I was different though, and maybe she is right, and maybe not. I’d seen her picture, she was truly a vision of beauty. I could see her speak in my mind’s eye. I’d record memos back to her. I sung her a few of my favorite songs, usually old standards. We shared much, swapping songs, interests, movies.
I’d told Her my favorite movie, and she went to watch it. Once I’d finished with the wife and baby for the evening, I joined Her, sitting down at my own TV and getting to the same part. It was corny, but we sat there sharing the same movie from hundreds of miles apart, chatting away on our phones and laughing. We could just be ourselves. No posturing or self-consciousness. Sometimes we were corny and goofy, sometimes dirty and crude, sometimes dripping with desire and lust, sometimes sappy and lovey, sometimes sarcastic and witty, sometimes critical and philosophical, sometimes fantastical and dreamy, sometimes passionate and intense, sometimes somber and empathetic. We could be all ways that we were with each other, sharing it all like intimate lovers, transitioning seamlessly like old friends. It was a beautiful relationship.
When we finally spoke on the phone for the first time, it was more of the same, and an hour flew past in what seemed like five minutes. Could it all be real, or was it merely too good to be true?