Reunion Veritas

Snow falls softly, giving a touch of magic to the chilly evening. I still can’t believe I’m standing outside this quaint Italian bistro in Manhattan.  Me.  From midwest small town, USA.  This is my first trip to The Big Apple and my agent has pulled out all the stops.  My hotel room is bigger than the first apartment I rented after college.  And I’m sure I don’t even want to see the bill for this dinner.

But this dinner has nothing to do with my book tour.  This is a bona fide date.  Yes, a date.  I don’t think any time I shared with a guy in college counts as a date like this one.  So I’m calling this my first big girl date.  This is not beer and pizza at a bowling alley.  No, this is dinner at an upscale New York City restaurant.  And we’re not going dutch because we’re poor college students.  Nope.  He invited me and he’s paying.

Daniel James was my crush in high school.  We shared a love of the theatre, though he as an actor and me as anything and everything backstage.  Secretly, I had written a script that I fantasized would star Daniel on Broadway and we’d be famous.  Together.  

But I’d never had the courage to show it to him.

He was also the yardstick I used to measure every man I’d met in both high school and college and every year after.  That’s why I don’t date much.  No one else can measure up to the perfection that is Daniel James. 

I followed his career, sending him a congratulatory email here and a thumbs-up text there.  He’d return with something short and sweet, but always superficial.  Then last year, after more than ten years of pining, I made the decision to stop contacting him.  I decided it was time to kick him out of my head and out of my life.  

And I almost succeeded.

That’s when I finally wrote the book my agent was able to sell.  I poured all my Daniel angst into it, and it went through the roof.  It hit the bestseller list, and now here I am on a nationwide tour to promote it.   

So imagine my shock when I received his text yesterday.

Michaela!  I hear you’re in NYC on your book tour.

You simply MUST let me buy you dinner and catch up.

It can be the date I was always afraid to ask for in high school.

I thought long and hard about whether to even answer him.  Friends and flames had come out of the woodwork since my book had become a best-seller.  I’d learned the hard way that most of them either wanted to share in my money or my fame.  Fame, I am discovering, is something that I can certainly live without, thank you very much.  But it’s a necessary evil, I suppose.  At least that’s what Fran, my editor, tells me.

I guess I still haven’t quite gotten every bit of Daniel out of my system.  His text brought back all those longings to share a future with him.  That high school girl still holds out hope that he’ll come to his senses and realize that he wants me in his life.

I’m still quite dumbfounded at Daniel’s last bit of text.  He was afraid to ask me out?  He had girls fawning all over him, especially after the spring theatre production our senior year.  He asked me for advice on how to win over his secret crush while still appearing available to all his adoring fans.    We shared many long, intimate conversations when he’d ask me for a ride home after rehearsals.  I always hoped one of those nights he’d hold my hand or ask me out on a date.  But he never did.

The memory of it makes me sigh as I place my hand on the restaurant door and prepare to walk in.

Now he’s in New York, living his dream.  And I’m in New York experiencing mine.  That dream, until last year, always included Daniel by my side, sharing every new adventure with me.  And now he’s finally had the courage to ask me out.  Could it be that I’m part of his dream too?  Would this be the proper place to swoon?

I stand just inside the door, trying to slow my rapid pulse and shallow breathing.  As I let my eyes adjust to the dim lights of the restaurant, I slip my gloves off and stuff them into my coat pockets.  I don’t want to admit just how excited I am to see Daniel again after all these years, even to myself.  

There’s a low hum from many quiet conversations, and the smell of fresh pasta and marinara sauce is in the air.  I see couples sharing intimate moments over a glass of wine, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.  And servers bustle back and forth, granting their every wish.

“Good evening, ma’am.”  The maitre d’ greets me from behind a mahogany host stand.  “Do you have a reservation?”

“Um...I’m meeting someone.  Daniel James?  Is he here yet?”

“Oh, yes ma’am.  Your name?”  I answer him and suddenly he is fawning all over me.  I think I almost see him bow in my direction as he picks up a slightly ornate menu.  Is it me or is it Daniel?  “Right this way ma’am.”

I follow the maitre d’ toward a very secluded table in a dimly lit corner of the restaurant.  And then I see him.

My breathing becomes shallow again and my heart hammers in my chest.  He is even more gorgeous than I remember.  Our eyes lock, and he stands up, arms open to greet me.

“Michaela.  Oh my God.”  He pulls me into an embrace that I’ve dreamed of since high school.  But I do not hear angels singing or cupid’s harp playing as I’ve always thought they would when this moment finally happened.  Well, it has been a while.

“Please, sit.”  Daniel holds my chair as I do, then helps me move it closer to the table.  “Geez, Michaela.  You look gorgeous.”

Do I detect surprise in his voice?  Did he expect me to be fat and ugly?

“You’re looking pretty good yourself.  The theatre has been good for you.”

A waiter arrives with a bottle of wine, which he pours out for Daniel’s approval.  Wow.  They actually do that?

Daniel nods and the waiter fills both our glasses half full, then places the bottle on the table.  He’s also left us a charcuterie board with cheeses, crackers, and olives.  

“Please help yourself, Michaela.  I took the liberty of ordering for both of us.  I hope you’re OK with that.”

I nod and lower my lashes.  Then I scoop a few bits of food onto my plate.  

He is so self-assured and in control now.  The Daniel I remember shied away from other people, never believing himself deserving of the attention the theatre gave him.  He only opened up when we shared our late-night conversations in my car in his driveway.  

“Lord, I can’t believe how beautiful you are.  You’ve so grown into yourself.  I expected quiet, clumsy Michaela.  This is such a wonderful surprise!”

Daniel pops an olive into his mouth, and my gaze lingers there.  How many times have I dreamed of those lips on mine in a kiss filled with searing passion?

“Michaela?  You OK?”

“Yea.”  I pick up my glass of wine and take a sip.

“And do you love the life of promoting your book?”  He leans back against the booth, lacing his fingers behind his head.  Bright blue eyes stare back at me.  “All those adoring fans showering you with attention.  Isn’t it great?” 

“Not really.”  I take another sip of wine.  “I’ve always liked being out of the spotlight, unlike you.”

“Michaela, I’m sorry we lost touch.  This latest production has been a bigger success than any of us ever imagined.  But I really do owe my success to you.” 

“What?  I didn’t do anything, Daniel.”

“More than you know, my dear.”  He reaches out for another olive, then leans in toward me.  Long, elegant fingers push that olive toward my mouth.  I open it to allow him to feed me.  So sensual. This should be causing my heart to race.  But I feel nothing at his touch.  “Those late-night talks helped me to define who I am and who I want to be.  And I thank you for that.”

Our waiter arrives at this point and places a very elegant plate of lobster ravioli in front of each of us.  We dig in and enjoy both the food and the conversation.  It’s almost as if it was only last week that we saw each other.

When our empty plates are cleared away and we’ve enjoyed the last bite of tiramisu, Daniel refills our wine glasses.

“Michaela.  You’ve surprised me tonight.”  He leans back with his hands behind his head again, looking very comfortable and extremely sexy in this atmosphere.  “You’re not that shy little girl I was remembering.  You are now a sexy young woman, and I find myself wanting to get to know you again.”

I take a sip of wine and try to hide the blush I feel on my cheeks.  I never have been one to take a compliment well.

He leans across the table and takes my hand in his.  Ah.  This is what I’ve always dreamed of.  He’s finally fawning.  “Come home with me, Michaela.  I can’t believe how I’ve missed you. And I have no idea how I dismissed you all those years ago.”

What?!  I couldn’t be more surprised at his announcement.  All those years ago, in my car in his driveway, if he’d invited me in I would not have hesitated.  I would have fallen into his arms and welcomed his kiss without a second thought.

But here tonight, I don’t feel that pull to be in his arms.

“Daniel, why did you invite me here tonight?”  I’m not sure I want to know his answer.

“Sometimes I just miss home.”  His eyes soften at the declaration.  “When I saw that you were in town, I just wanted a chance to be me for a little while.”  

I teeter on the edge, wondering if I should accept his invitation.  I don’t feel the puppy love attraction I used to feel for this man.  But I don’t want our evening together to end so soon either.

And then comes the big surprise.

“I want you to meet my girlfriend.  I think you’d be a great addition to our relationship.”

Mic drop.

And right here, right now, I know that I no longer desire the amorous interest of Daniel James.  He’ll always be my friend.  And I’ll always treasure our intimate conversations.  They shaped me too.  

I hope we can still have those conversations. I'm not pulling back because he's chosen a lifestyle that isn't mainstream. I'm pulling back because I am now secure in who I am and what I want out of life. And it's nowhere near what Daniel is seeking.

I know I must say goodbye this evening to Daniel James.  He will always be polyamorous and I will always be a hopeless romantic, waiting for my very own white knight on a steed to sweep me away and claim my love alone.

So I hug him goodbye, put on my coat, and head toward the door.

As I step out into the cool of the night, a tear slips down my cheek. And the snow turns into rain.