Misleading Mr. Right.

Luke was special. He was special in the way a good book and comfy pajamas are special because that's how he made me feel. Comfortable. He was also incredibly good looking. A light-skinned Latino with sky blue eyes and thick black hair. He had the kind of smile that thawed my cheeks quicker and was sweeter than Hot Cocoa dolloped with Reddi Whip and sprinkled with cinnamon. His touch was soft and gentle. The touch of youth in the prime of existence. His hands were smooth as silk. His well-manicured nails rested on fingers that traced the lines of my hand and tickled my senses. 

We spent hours talking. About what, I cannot for the life of me recall. But it must have been important to keep us so engaged. Dark cold nights bled into early breaking dawns as we held the phone to our ears listening to each other breathe while laying in our own beds. Both of us exhausted. Neither wanting to cut the invisible cord that had kept us tethered and close to each other throughout the night. There were a couple of quick kisses. Covert pecks on supple lips when no one else was around to see me cheating.

That's what I was doing after all.

Cheating.

Not Luke. Luke wasn't tied down to anyone. He could have had anyone he wanted. Out of the plethora of high school girls who threw themselves at him every day he chose to spend his time with me. I asked him why he chose me more than once. His answer was always the same.

"I could have all those other girls, but none of them would ever be you."

"But I'm with Guy."

"Guy is a puke. Someday you'll see he's a puke and when you do I'll be here."

Guy was a puke. He was puke in the way that most teenage boys are pukes. But I was in love and had been in love since the first time we kissed nearly 3 years prior. No, Guy didn't give me the same feelings of comfort Luke gave me, but I had given him sex. We had been intimate. To a teenage girl, intimacy led to sex and sex was binding. Well, it was for me anyway. Back then that was the fine line I used to justify my time with Luke. I wasn't really cheating because we weren't intimate. 

For months I would spend my nights on the phone with Guy anticipating the familiar click of a call waiting. My heart would skip and leap about as I said my rushed "Good night's", and "I love you's" to my boyfriend so I could switch lines and hear the cool calm collected voice that would carry me through the next 6 to 8 hours. Late night conversations led to evening rendezvous.

Dates were planned. Lies created. My lies, not Luke's. He had no reason to lie. The more time we spent together the more he became a face I had to see. My girlish childhood fantasies ceased to include me and my childhood sweetheart. They were now filled with Luke. I acted out our midnight conversations. What I would say, how he would respond. I imagined him laying next to me. My head resting on his bare chest as he slept. Listening to his breathing as I had been doing for so many nights already.

That night we sat in his car outside of my house holding hands and I told him I was done with Guy, that I was breaking up with him, the blue in Luke's eyes and his already unnerving smile illuminated. He grabbed me and wrapped his arms around me bringing me close enough to breathe in the intoxicating smell of preferred stock and Luke Espinoza. His embrace was no longer distant but closer than I was used to. His hands held mine with vigor. His fingers caressing and exploring me with every innocent touch. His lips lingered on mine for longer than the normal half-second interval I had become accustomed to.

It was at that moment I realized we had crossed the line. Luke and I had become intimate. I officially had cheated on Guy.

My heart broke as I kissed Luke goodbye and went inside. I cried on the long walk to my room. I was about to do something big. 

Something life-changing.

I had to call Guy. I had to break up with him. I had to end the longest and most important relationship in all of my young life. I knew I had to because I just told Luke I was going to. 

How though?

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I sat on my bed with my legs crisscrossed and the cordless phone in my hand. Guy Lopez was #1 on my speed dial. All I had to do was hold down the right button and it would call him for me but I was frozen in thought and drowning in memories.

We had some great times Guy and me.

I loved his family and after so many years together I had become a part of it. I had my own engraved Christmas Stocking that hung in-between Guy's and his Brother Valentine's. I had gone with them on vacations and to family reunions. No, Guy did not feel like a good book and comfy pajamas but his family did. And I was about to lose them all.

I ignored Luke's phone calls after that. I told my mom to tell him I wasn't home when he came knocking on the front door. I hid from him in the bathrooms and like a coward, I lost myself in the masses of high schoolers that swarmed the hallways. The one friend we shared who knew about us I shunned as well. My best friend. My shame overwhelmed me. I could not stand to see their faces. I couldn't stand to see HIS face. I couldn't look into those blue eyes knowing what I didn't do. I couldn't watch that beautiful smile turn sour when I told him I couldn't do it.

 I couldn't break up with Guy.

Luke found me on the bus after school. He was angry. He had been crying. I could tell even though he had tried to hide it. He yelled at me. He let out everything I deserved to hear and I sat there on that stupid green seat with my head down, silently weeping, and accepted it. I knew I chose wrong. I knew he would have treated me better. I knew he could have loved me more. That he did love me more. I knew he had been patient and had waited for me, that I lost my only chance, and that he would never forgive me. I knew all of this the night I didn't call Guy. The night I unplugged my phone so I wouldn't have to deal with the forthcoming confrontation that would have to take place. I didn't want to hurt him. 

I loved him.

I just didn't know it.

It wasn't until after Luke that I found out who I was dating. That Guy was a puke. Luke knew he was. He knew the whole time but he didn't tell me. He didn't tell me because he didn't want to break my heart. He wanted to be the one to sweep up the pieces and help make it better when Guy broke it. But by the time that happened, it was too late. 

Almost 3 decades have passed since then. I am married with kids that are almost all grown but think about Luke often. When I talk to my girls about what to look for in a boyfriend, I picture Luke. Kind. Patient. Sincere.

Confident. Comfortable. When someone asks If I have any regrets, I nod my head no but my thoughts often wander and I find myself wondering how different my life would have been had I made that phone call, taken that leap, and chosen Luke.

But I didn't. I chose Guy and every choice I have made since has led me to where I am today. Today I have everything I need and I love my life. I love my husband and I love my children, but every now and then I think of Luke. I think of his warmth and comfort. I think of his soft touch and smooth voice. Man, he was special and good looking too.