I'm Sorry, Alex Diaz

"Well, pal, I better head out. I've got to get the kids ready for school tomorrow which means the alarm goes off at 5 A.M. sharp! Catch you in the office." Phil pushed back from the bar and grabbed his coat. "And do me a favor, Alex, just try and put yourself out there!" He winked as he strode out of the bar. I appreciate Phil, as a friend and a co-worker, and I know his intentions are good but my God! I am so sick of everyone telling me to put myself out there. Is it really so wrong to be thirty and single? Didn't Jenna Rink say thirty, flirty, and thriving? Of course, Jenna Rink is a fictional magazine editor with a rockin body and I'm a washed up high school valedictorian with a crappy desk job. But that is besides the point; I don’t need a wife, I am far too busy with work, trying to climb the corporate ladder and blah, blah, blah. I mean, yes, it has been a long time since I’ve gone on a date. And yes, I wouldn’t mind getting some action. Shit! I thought. Alex , you pig, women aren’t objects for sex. Maybe I did need to put myself out there, lest I become depraved. I glanced around the bar, hoping to spot someone peaking my interest but it seemed to be full of couples on dates or single men looking for the same thing I was.

I took the last sip of my jack and coke, signalling the bar keeper for another. Under my breath, I muttered a quick prayer. 

“Our Father, who art in heaven, and all that jazz. Please, send me home with a woman. Um.. Amen?” That was when I saw her. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There, walking through the door of the bar was my high school ex-girlfriend, Josephine “Jo”  Whitman, or at least I think it was her. She looked like Jo, except older, more stern. Her hair was dark, long, and shiny, a contrast to the light brown pixie cut she sported all throughout his school. She seemed to have lost weight, or maybe it was just her outfit. When we dated she never wore anything but loose baggy clothes; she had told me it was because she hated her body, but I always thought it was beautiful. She was wearing a tight, sleeveless, blue dress that revealed a mass of tattoos up her arms and legs. They were simple, all in black and white, scattered about like a newspaper that I wanted to read. She sauntered in, confident as ever, flanked by two familiar faces. They must be her childhood best friends, Elle Perrier and Laura Burke. Elle and Laura were hot shit in highschool. Jo used to think their beauty eclipsed her own, but tonight Jo was the moon, bright and shining. They were merely fading stars, hiding in her shadow. I was mesmerized, studying her every move as the hostess led them to a dimly lit booth in the corner. Then, it hit me and I realized that I needed to get the fuck out of here, and fast.

Jo and I ended on bad terms, sure it was 12 years ago, but when you end a relationship like we did you don’t want to see each other again. We had been best friends since kindergarten, but we started dating freshman year. Jo broke up with me when we were 16 because she needed time to grow, which would have been fine, had she not gone completely insane. After we broke up I started dating a girl named Caroline Karsen and Jo went berserk. I dated Caroline until December of my senior year, Jo and I still stayed best friends. One night when we were studying, one thing led to another and I ended up cheating on Caroline. We broke it off and Jo and I continued to play a game of on again off again until I said it was time to be off again, for good. She kept trying to manipulate me into getting back together. In underhanded and sneaky ways. It was right before prom so Jo didn’t have a date. She was pissed and started spreading rumors about our sex life to get attention. Instead of going to the dance she skipped prom but showed up to the after party, drunk off her ass. She punched me in the face and we haven’t talked since.  

I gathered my things, throwing on my coat, shoving my wallet into my pockets. I tried to stand up but my ass was glued to the stool. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Maybe she’d changed. After all, it has been 12 years and I have most definitely forgiven her. But, what if she isn’t sorry? Does she deserve my forgiveness, I mean, what happened was pretty traumatic. I didn't date anyone for 2 years after everything went down. It took me so long to start seeing people after she punched me, inviting her back into my life might cause me to spiral. But this can’t be a coincidence. Jo Whitman and I at the same bar, 12 years later. That’s like the start to a movie! Fuck, what should I do? 

I slouched over my drink, putting my face in my hands. I needed to think this through. 

“Hey, um… this is kind of random but are you Alexander Diaz?” whispered a sweet simple voice.

“Huh?” I looked up and there she was, in all her moonlit glory.  “Jo, uh Josephine Whitman, wow! What are you doing here,” I stammered as if I hadn’t been watching her from the moment she walked in.

“Alex!” she squealed, “it really is you!” She threw her arms around me. I braced for impact but the moment I inhaled her nostalgic scent of roses and ocean breeze I melted into her embrace. 

“Yes, it’s really me,” I chuckled.

“Are you here alone? Do you want to have drinks with me and the girls? I’m sure you remember Elle and Laura!” I began to open my mouth and release a joyous “yes”  but the words caught in my throat. Was this a good idea?

She recognized my panic and quickly corrected herself, “I’m so dumb, you are probably waiting for like, some hot date, it was good to see you.” She turned on her heel but I caught her wrist.

“No, no. I was with a co-worker but he left, I’d love to join.” She beamed and nodded her head, leading me towards the group.

“Ladies, look who I found at the bar!” 

“Alex Diaz, as I live and breathe! What are you doing here!” gasped Elle. Her and Laura glanced at each other in disbelief. Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into.

“Well, don’t just stand there! Sit down,” said Laura, “I think this calls for shots!”

“Jeez, Lar, that’s a little much. I have work in the morning.” giggled Jo. We settled into our seats and the conversation flowed, natural as ever. We reminisced on old memories and over long gone classmates. We discussed our lives and plans and the places we had been. Elle was married to A.J. Jones, one of our former peers. They owned a dance studio and had 3 beautiful blonde baby girls, spitting images of elementary school Elle. Lauar was engaged to a coworker. She was working at a local non-for-profit as a therapist for at risk teens. They babbled on about their jobs, kids, and Laura’s upcoming wedding. I told them about my desk job and tried to make it seem as interesting as possible. I didn't dare mention that I was single. 

The night was coming to a close and patrons were beginning to trickle out of the bar. Laura left early in the evening, something about the wedding, leaving Elle, Jo, and I to finish our drinks.

“It’s getting late and I need to make sure the girls haven’t driven A.J. mad. You should come over sometime, Alex, I know A.J. would be thrilled to see you.” Elle said on her way out. 

“I’d love that.” I said, and I meant it. She hugged Jo and kissed me on the cheek in a polite and very Elle sort of way. “Have fun you two!” 

A hush fell over the bar as Jo squirmed in her seat.

“So,” she said. Her warm eyes pierced my heart.

“It was really good to see you.”

“Yeah, uh, you too..” The silence we were sitting in grew uncomfortable. I needed to get out of here, now.

“Canijustsaysomething-” spit Jo. “Uh, I mean. Can I say something, candidly,”

“Yeah, shoot.” I stared into my almost empty glass.

“Ok, this might be a weird thing to say, considering the fact that it has been 12 years but I’ve held onto it for so long, so here goes nothing.” She sucked in a long breath and braced herself, like what she was about to say could be life or death. She looked down at her hands and let it out.

“I know seeing me is most likely an unwelcome surprise so I want to apologize for that first and foremost. I also want to apologize for any stress or anxiety this may cause. I am truly sorry to spring this on you but it seemed like this was the perfect opportunity. I’ve wanted to say this to you for a while now, honestly I’ve wanted to say this from the moment I landed that punch but the time never seemed right, until now. I will keep this as brief as I can but then again, how can I fit a lifetime of apology into a few measly words. The past 12 years of my life have brought extreme highs and extreme lows; some of which you are more than well aware of. And through it all I have changed, a lot. More recently, I have spent a lot of time reflecting. As I’ve looked over the past few years, the memories of what happened with you have burned into my brain. My heart grieves the way I treated you. I am so deeply sorry for all of the ways I hurt you, harmed you, and manipulated you. I mistook infatuation with you for love, and that gave way to obsession. When you wouldn’t give me the love I wanted I crossed lines to try and get it. I wanted you to be mine and that was probably my biggest mistake. You are not a piece of property to be bought and sold. You are a human being with feelings. You deserve love and respect, which is not what I gave you. I am sorry for the ways I disrespected you spiritually, emotionally, and physically. I am sorry for the scars I left on your heart and for the trauma I sowed. I am sorry for the lies I told to gain status and popularity. I’m sorry for the secrets I divulged to get attention. My vile mind thought it would make you want me and, unsurprisingly, it did the opposite. I’m sorry for the bonds I broke in order to get closer to you. Not only did I destroy so many relationships but I shattered ours, with no one to blame but myself. I wish I could have left you with the happy memories we had made but my own toxicity destroyed them. They were replaced with a sour taste in your mouth and disdain in your eyes. I truly am sorry. I know this is an apology amongst a stream of so many which I left unfulfilled. I’ve gone back on my apologies countless times, tried to trick you into wanting me back. But this is not a tactic. This is a true apology. I fully acknowledge my faults, my constant manipulation, my assault, my failures, and my lies. It is with a convicted and contrite heart I say that I am so very sorry.” Jo paused, looking up at me with an expression only someone who really meant what they were saying could make.

“I’m sorry, Alex Diaz.”

“Wow.” I breathed, unsure of what to say. Could she have really changed? After all these years, Jo Whitman, one of the most stubborn, headstrong, beautiful, infuriating, funny, wonderful people I had ever known was sitting here, in front of me, apologizing? I needed to think.

“Listen, I miss you and your friendship. I’m not going to force you back into my life or beg you to date me again. I just want you to know how sorry I am. I want to start over? Can we start from the beginning again?”

I was speechless. I needed another drink.

“Could you just give me a minute, this uh- this is a lot.”

“Yeah sure, I totally understand.” She said, her face crestfallen. I stood up and practically sprinted over to the bar. I knew what I had to do. I looked over from the counter, studying her once again. She was looking down, fiddling with the hem of her dress, clearly unsure of what to do next. I straightened my back, took a deep breath, and walked over. Two drinks in hand.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. I saw you alone over here and was wondering if I could buy you a drink.” I extended my hand with one of the glasses and she took it. I settled down next to her, placing my free hand on her arm.

“I’m Alex Diaz, and you are?”

She smiled, a smile brighter than the moon, stars, sun, and everything in between.

“I’m Jo, Jo Whitman. It’s nice to meet you.”