Chapter One: Angst Over a Mocha
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I don't even remember driving home. I have no idea. I don't even know how I made it to the airport or checked into the hotel or ended up in a coffee house. But that's where I'm at, curled up on big comfy chair sipping a mocha. The consequences of what I've done hit me. Like a ton of bricks. No, more like being hit by a bus. I walked away from a man that did nothing but love me. He cherished me. He adored me. He made me his queen. But I didn't feel the same way. Oh, sure. I tried. I really, really, really, tried. But then again, there is no try. There's only do or do not. I obviously chose "do not" no matter how much I said I wanted to "do."
We were together for a while and I guess when it came down to it, I made the wrong choice. What am I saying 'together' for? We were married. For a long grueling heartache filled five years. Today, we signed the documents that 'dissolved' our marriage. I find it funny that the courts don't even call it divorce.
"Please sign here and here," a feminine voice said. I absently picked up a pen and signed my name as she requested. Then pushed the paper to my left for his signature.
"Ok, that's it. You will receive copies for your records in the mail within ten business days," the female's voice continued. "Enjoy your weekend."
I guess, I'm sad because I failed at marriage. I never wanted that. I wanted to get married only once and live happily ever after with the love of my life, have lots of children, and watch them grow. And grow old with my love. But it didn't happen because I made the wrong choice, and now I feel like I don't know what to do any more.
Two weeks after our first date, I moved in with him. Five years later, we divorced. Who would have thought that a rebound relationship would last nearly twice as long?
I just have to shake my head, because I swear at the time I met my ex I wasn't hurt any more, that I wasn't pining over someone else. That I wanted a man that openly showed me his love and put me above all else. But I failed at the other half to that – that I wanted to love the one that loved me. I guess I just really fooled myself. Actually, I managed to fool the entire world. Because when we broke up, everyone was surprised. All our family, all our friends, they had no idea. Even my ex, he had no idea that I didn't love him like I said I did. I never showed him any love except for saying it. I would say one thing and do something completely contradictory. We weren't lovers, well, we did do it on occasion, but only when I was totally dying for it and even then it wasn't 'making love' it was more like satisfying a physical urge, like going to the bathroom when you absolutely can't hold it anymore.
I know I destroyed his self-esteem. I know I destroyed his happiness. But I also destroyed my dreams of love and happiness. Don't I deserve to be happy? Being with him was slowly killing my spirit. I couldn't be with him anymore, so I left him. And now I'm alone. I guess that's ok. I would rather be alone for the right reason than be in a loveless marriage for the sake of being with someone.
Here's the thing, I was in love once. Head over heels, make your soul sing in love. With the most amazing man that I ever had the pleasure to know. He was like the sun on a warm spring day. He was so kind, so gentle, so balanced. He was my spiritual center.
We dated. Oh did we date. I met him through a friend at work. He was a charmer, that's for sure. It was love at first sight, if there was ever a thing. Our relationship was tumultuous to say the least. Although throughout our time together we never actually got beyond dating. I think we were both a little too scared to ever say how we really felt. At least I knew I was. He was always such a flirt. He never even tried to hide that from me, so I guess it was my own fault for not setting the boundaries in the beginning.
I guess I was foolish to believe that I was the only one for him. But how could I not? We would spend entire weekends together where it was just me and him. Like we were the only two in the world. Then one night, he said he had a date while I was spending the weekend with him! I still get so mad when I think of that night! I was furious. I walked out on him. I didn't stop to hear what lame excuse he had for hurting me. Or why he even thought that was acceptable. I walked out on him and never looked back. That was five and a half years ago.
I've thought about him, every now and then. I hear he moved to San Francisco, I guess that's the real reason why I decided to come here. Sort of a vacation, but more like a spiritual retreat. Just time to myself where no one knows me. Not that I even know where he lives. San Francisco is a big city and I wouldn't even know where to start. I mean, he may not even live here anymore. But I figure, what the hell? Two weeks in San Francisco can't be that bad if he lived here. The mocha is soothing, a chilly breeze hits me every now and then. This is a busy place, the door is always opening and closing. I like the feel of the warm cup in my hands. Sigh. Maybe I'll get a massage when I return to my hotel. Ok, the door opening every five seconds is starting to bug me...
"Sango?" I heard someone call my name.
"Sango, is that really you?"
What the hell? No one knows I'm here. I look up at the voice. Oh shit. I guess my thoughts called him forth into the coffee house.
"Hi, Miroku. How are you?"