Near Miss

How many years had they known and loved each other? Close to thirty. They were kids then (well, mid-20s). Grown-ups now, whatever that means. They’d “dated” back then, off and on, but never exclusively, so had never broken up. No need to break up if you’re not together. They drifted in and out of each other’s lives in a good way. But the last decade had proven harder to keep in touch. They had met face-to-face just three times and chatted on the phone a few times more.

On one particular call when he was literally on the other side of the world, while shifting her folded legs on her couch, something caught her off guard. There was a slight breeze exiting the tiny speaker holes on the bottom of her phone. She’d never noticed it before, has never noticed it since, but on that day, she could feel the breeze of his voice against her skin. With eyes closed, she moved the phone millimeters at a time, feeling his voice against her cheek, her lips, in her ear. She remembered lying in bed with him a lifetime ago, she on her back, he on his side, facing her, speaking softly and close to her ear. The timbre of his voice gave her chills. The warm breeze from his mouth then, the cool-ish breeze from her phone now, skimming her skin… her whole body reacted, then and now.

Sitting on the couch, she let herself lose track of what he was saying as she floated back to his bed, feeling his leg draped over her, his hand caressing her bare stomach and between her breasts. A light kiss on her forehead from his supple lips as her eyes sparkled at him. The memory of the 20-something décor of that grungy apartment he shared with two bandmates made her giggle… the mattress on the floor, red scarf draped over a tiny lamp, twinkle lights thumb-tacked to the walls above the bed.

Returning to the present, she picked up the string of words he was speaking and rejoined the conversation. She held the awkward angle of the phone for the rest of their hour-long conversation, smiling at the phone breeze pushed out by his deep voice. It meant a lot that he’d made time to have a full conversation, not just a quick hello while running between obligations, especially since they were so many time zones apart.

After they hung up, she let herself sink into the couch and daydream, rather than rushing to her next task. She imagined being with him again at this stage in their lives. Would their youthful connection remain? Of course it would. On a lunch date, both in their 40s and involved with others, their chemistry was still undeniable. They only ate and chatted, but their eyes sparkled at each other. Voices were tender, then laughing and conversing. Timeless. He touched her hand on the table and lingered a few moments. They took a walk along the creek beside the restaurant, not holding hands but shoulders touching every few steps.

That was many years ago already, somehow. She’d had many more daydreams of reuniting. On a more recent (but still distant) business trip that landed them in the same city, they’d met for dinner. The same familiarity was there, as always, and they spent four hours together. They were both at the beginning of fresh relationships then, could have easily gone home together, but something held them back. She still couldn’t believe they hadn’t pursued it. Perhaps they’re only friends now. Of course they’re friends, but she’d always dreamed of more.

For years, she had tried reminding herself why they weren't a good match. He’d been so focused on himself and his career when they were younger, enjoyed being the center of attention, always led conversations, sometimes talking over others, had no interest in “settling down.”

But when they’d meet again, those things always melted away. She’d remember all the wonderful things and saw that those “bad” traits had softened with time. He was still him, but more mature. It was maddening! Every time they met up, she’d prepare herself to be relieved because she’d see how NOT right for each other they were, eager to release the longing she felt, to let the daydreams fade… but instead, she fell more in love with him. Every. Single. Time.

His affection for her seemed to remain intact as well. They lived in different areas of the country (or globe, for some years), so if he was anywhere in her state, he made the effort to visit for a meal and catching up. Even if it meant driving two hours out of his way to get to her. Why couldn’t they get their collective shit together and land in the same place at the same time? Their careers, other relationships, and life kept them misaligned. A maddening orbit of near misses, so close yet never landing.

Finally, they were close enough to connect. Both were out of relationships, their geographically dictated family obligations fulfilled. They had the freedom to work from anywhere. More frequent phone calls and texts to check in on each other had become the norm.

But then.

A text from a mutual friend changed everything.

He was gone. A fluke. Pulled off the side of a highway with a flat tire, from having hit debris on the road. Dusk. A semi-truck driver, not paying attention, ran into him. He and two friends were dead. He’d survived the initial impact, but the vehicle had caught fire and they couldn’t get him out.

My god, what a horrible way to go. She could hear his voice and fought to keep it from screaming in her head. She didn’t want to imagine the details, yet couldn’t stop imagining the details. Her friend. Her love. Oh, how she ached!

She took the hiking trail off the back of her property and climbed the mountain, past the tree line, and sat on the highest rock she could reach. She wailed, and screamed, and didn’t care if her voice carried and scared her neighbors. It would take time before anyone could figure out where the sound came from, much less get to her. She didn’t want anyone to check on her. She wanted HIM; wanted to capture the time they’d lost, to be wrapped in his arms, hear his voice, feel his heartbeat through his chest against her face. Feel his leg draped over her again. She wanted to die with him.

She calmed and sat on the rock, looking over the mountain neighborhood where she’d landed. It was a warm summer day. The sun was sinking in the sky, casting a beautiful glow on the clouds and trees. A warm breeze rustled the leaves around her and tickled her cheek.

She remembered that one particular call, when he was on the other side of the globe, and she felt the breeze of his voice from her tiny phone speakers. Tears poured down her cheeks from behind closed eyelids. Her shoulders shook, then she opened her eyes and took a deep, ragged breath. The sunset was beautiful. The breeze continued to caress her.

They would forever be in near-miss orbits now. No chance of landing. She imagined him on the other side of the globe. She let him stay there. Forever.