Losing Travis

         I wake up some mornings from haunting dreams, sometimes nightmares, of him and go about my life. No, not the scary nightmares, but the ones that remind me of the past I am still bound to by silk threads. I pass by our old high school, by the car lot where he once worked; I pass by his memory at least 15 times a day. You're right, it may seem like a lot, and I probably exaggerated, but I never could let him go easily. For the two years we dated (on and off mostly) I never once let him go. I never thought that whatever current breakup we were on, would be the end. And it never was the end, until seven years ago. I've never went longer than seven months without him.

         This time is very different because now, unlike all the other ten times Travis has gone away, he isn't coming back. I may have said those words once before, "he's notcoming back", but never did I wholeheartedly believe them. A part of me still doesn't. Isn't it funny how the heart will block out the painful truth even when the head has been screaming it over and over? I never did listen to my head much. Travis could tell you that.

         Oh, I 'm sure Travis could tell you a lot of things. Like he wanted to be a history teacher. Or that he's allergic to cats and he was born in Maryland. He might bring up that he ran a mile from his house to mine just to see me. Or that he used to sneak over in the early morning hours in the summer of 2001 to be with me. He'd add that we would watch the History channel and eat Cheerios together. Travis might mention that we swore we'd marry each other by 25 if we weren't already married, or, and would add with a smile, at least have an affair. He'd tell you that he always thought of himself as: "an overweight, all right looking guy, who's decent at football, gets good grades, and got handed down a sports car." I told him that night that these were the reasons I loved him. He told me love is overrated.

         He was pretty right at his analogy of himself. Travis is a little on the...um hefty side. He's average in the looks department, chubby face, scratchy goatee, pretty blue eyes hidden by glasses and a small puggish nose (his shoulders were what won me over). They were boards; I haven't seen shoulders that would remotely compare to his. Strong shoulders- invincible. There was something about him that was attractive, perhaps it was his dead pan, sarcastic humor that could match my own. But he was great at football. I would brave the chilly fall nights, drive all over the southern half of Ohio and freeze just to watch him hit guys and slap his team mates on the butt.

         He was very smart in school; although when we were in classes together we usually got in trouble for throwing paper balls or arguing. But, and he might tell you this, he didn't love me like I did him. He told me twice that he did and then took the words back six days later. And for the most part he used me. Maybe once or twice I used him also, but my attachment to him was more than physical.

         Where he was once used to arouse jealousy toward an ex, I was used to create envy in one of his. I was unaware of this at the time, but once I stepped back from love smeared eyes I saw the truth. I saw he was no different than I was at 15, though two years had drifted by. I saw that no matter what I told myself, Travis was always going to be the same guy and it didn't matter how hard I tried to change that. He was unique, cocky and I always thought, a little insecure. And he planned to stay that way.

         Like any high school couple who had a love/hate relationship, we were painfully indifferent at times. He would ignore me, I would snub him and looking back, I called him some awful names and said some mean things that I never meant. Even though I told myself it didn't hurt that he never acknowledged me, it did. I told myself it hurt him too. Truth be told it might have, but I doubt it. He let me know one time that I had hurt him, and well, I've told him many times how much pain he's caused me. He would laugh my truth off and say something witty to make me feel better. He never liked having other people's feelings shoved upon him when it wasn't convenient for him.

         He'd tell you that he could always make me feel better about things. Without meaning to, I believe, he would have me laughing when seconds ago I was crying. Most of the time, as you may have guessed, over him. When we weren't allowed to see one another (oh yes, we at one time were banned from each other), or when we were seeing other people, I would wait for him to log on Yahoo Messenger at night. The anxious pit that had formed when his screen name appeared soon dissolved into tears by the end of our conversation. Over the screen is where most of our best conversations took place. Where he would type witty things like, "Got any English in you? Would you like some?" and, "I miss the crazy times we had together." Over the computer he would say these blurbs, never face to face where he was probably afraid to say the things he wanted or to embarrassed to look me in the eye; but on a screen where black letters were just impersonal enough for him. There have been many a night I have stayed up later than I should have and talked to him about history, the English and Irish, our dormant sex life (he liked the word dormant; he said it made him sound intelligent, which he already was), and our past.

         And even though my head knows how the ending went, my heart forgets sometimes. I still wait for him to log on at night and tell me a cute analogy to make me feel better. I look for his truck when I drive, hoping that someone made up an elaborate joke and the joke's on me. I watch a video of him and I so I don't forget the way he used to look at me. I memorize his movements so I don't forget his lumbering walk and the broadness of his shoulders or the way his eyes would disappear when he smiled. And if he could tell you one last thing, he'd tell you I was his Princess at one time, even though I am a "damn mick". But I will tell you this: life isn't fair. Things don't work out as you planned. Someone you knew deep down was the one for you, the one you were going to marry, someone who you thought was invincible, can die on a hot July day in a wreck 20 minutes from home, which is what Travis did. And like that sappy country song says: I've got it through my head, I just can't break it to my heart.