I Loved Her Once

I loved her once, you gotta believe me. And she loved me too, that’s the hard part. It’d be a lot easier if she hadn’t. You know this. You realize it’s not easy for anyone, for either one of us. You have to realize this. I’m not right for her. But she doesn’t know it yet. She will soon, sooner than she wanted. She will know, and I will explain it clearly and thoroughly, we are not right for each other. We’re nineteen for God's sake! I just know it’s not forever, you know?

She expects me at 9:45, across the lawn, in her dorm room. I will pick her up. But tonight, I will also let her down. I don't want to, you must trust me. I don't have a backup plan. I'm not harboring feelings for another girl on campus, didn’t have a fling with the girl swiping id cards in the cafeteria, nothing like that. You think I’m one of those guys, you do, but I’m not. You think since I’m going to break a girl’s heart I must be scum, well, I’m sorry, I can’t fully defend that I suppose. I don’t want to do this, but I must, for her sake, please believe me.

Her family moved to Harbor Heights at the end of 10th grade. We dated for two years at Lincoln High, moved into the dorms here, and then dated last year. People admired us in a quintessential way, an ideal, not that they specifically envied us, but that they felt we had something they were lacking. We were lacking what they didn’t know. She trusted that since we always were, we always would be. She didn’t know anymore what or who she was, besides my girlfriend. You know the type like that. I’ve clipped her wings. You’re familiar with that expression. And not intentionally, God forbid, remember, I loved her once. But somehow along the way, she’s become stunted. I can’t explain it. We’ve maxed out in a way, at nineteen, and she’s a sophomore international business major. I can’t do that to her. By now you’re starting to believe me.

At this point I should head that way, over to Sultan Hall. I should, but I’m not yet, I can’t yet. What if I change my mind, and just never tell her I felt this way once? What if we do live happily ever after, as they say? Could we ever, now that I’ve reached this point? She never will, that’s the point. And I love her enough to let her fly, to set her free. And sorry for the sentimentality but I love her, I do, that’s the point. You’re starting to see now, you’re getting it.

What would happen is we’ll graduate in a couple years, her with Honors. We’ll get married about eight months later. I’ll find a local radio gig, working difficult hours at first, then settling into a routine. She’d find a financial firm, eventually, so excited about that first contract we’d pop a bottle of champagne. We’d have three kids, two boys and a girl. We’d move outside the city and commute a little farther so our kids could go to good schools, in good neighborhoods. We would, you can picture this, and we’d smile in family Christmas cards, every one of us, in complementary holiday sweaters. But we wouldn’t be completely happy you know, quintessential perhaps, but unfulfilled, lacking, wondering. Her mother would eventually move in with us, and we’d care for her as Alzheimers takes over, and we’d bury her someday. Our kids would go to college, get jobs, start families, that’s what they do. We’d retire, maybe move somewhere exotic. Maybe. One of us will die first, the other will move into an old folks home. That’s how it works. We’ll look back and imagine what could have been.

You’re wondering what’s wrong with that picture, aren’t you? You envy this life perhaps. She doesn’t know it, she can’t yet, but that’s not the life she wants, not with me. I can’t let her crawl, I can’t hold her ankles when she could fly. I love her, as you know, I do, so much. This isn’t easy for anyone, perhaps you know firsthand. If so, I’m sorry. If not, again, please trust me. One of us was going to have to make this decision eventually, as you can see, I love her enough to be the one. I think my part is harder. I can’t know for sure. But she’ll look back later and thank me, perhaps not literally, with a phone call from Beijing in complete retrospective clarity, but she will, and I’ll know, I already do, that I did what amounts to a life-altering favor. You gotta believe me.

I can’t explain everything, I’m only nineteen for Christ's sake! But what I do know is I’m all she knows. She deserves more than that, and I love her enough to see it, she would never ask, I know her. And who knows, maybe it is a mistake. Maybe I crawl back to her sometime in the future. Maybe it all becomes part of our story. Maybe we do send out Christmas cards with red and green sweaters, smiles on our faces. Maybe. This isn’t easy you know, for either of us, you gotta believe me.