I answered the phone. A voice on the other end asked, "Is this Fayd?" I said, "Yeah." "HI, SWEETHEART!"
All of a sudden, I realized it was Chez. I had completely forgotten that Sunday was her 18th birthday. I remembered how I told her we could be together when she turned 18. I was still dating Bez at the time. While our relationship had been coasting, I was certain it was going to turn around and we were going to be getting married at some point in the future. I couldn’t have this messing everything up right now.
I didn’t know what to do or say. All of these thoughts occurred in my head in the one second after she said, “Sweetheart.” My next course of action came as much as a surprise to me as it did to her: I hung up the phone.
In the next few seconds, I was able to sort things out. It was after midnight, so it was officially her birthday. She must have been counting down the seconds until 12am struck and she turned 18. I also never gave her my phone number, so she must have gotten it from Directory Assistance. I remembered these two letters that she had sent me over the course of the last three months. This one was mailed out 10/13/89:
The interesting thing about this letter is that her handwriting is completely different from the one she had sent in June. I don’t know why she did that. The ink is so dark, I don’t even need to transcribe it. She must have been pressing down the pen really hard (like she was stabbing me).
She went on to beg me to call her or write her and let her know for certain that it’s over. She said that no matter what happens between us, she would always love me and she’d never ever want anyone else ever again. She said she hadn’t found anyone else since I last saw her a year and a half earlier. She wrote that she felt like she had no heart because I had taken it and thrown it away.
She was also planning to move to Denver in the Spring of 1991 or 1992. She was going to attend the Colorado Institute of Art. That happened to be just a few blocks from my house, although I’m certain she didn’t know that.
On December 29th, she mailed me this Christmas card. Since this was just a couple of weeks prior to the phone call, I really shouldn’t have been surprised that she would try to contact me.
As you can see, she returned to her original handwriting style:
I know this is hard to read (literally and figuratively), so here is the text:
“(Dear Fayd), I know this unusual for me but I guess everyone (almost) can change. I have a little bit. I don’t think I will change completely. I know I won’t forget you. I know you probably don’t want to see me or talk to me ever again. (I hope we don’t wind up like that.) But if that’s the way it’s going to be, I would like to know. I still (& always will) love you no matter what. Do you want to know something? Well, I’m going to tell you anyway wether it’s yes or no. I miss you so much it hurts to think about you. I know this is just all the same old s*** over & over again but I don’t want to lose you & if I have already lost you I would like to know. I’m on my hands and knees. Please call or write me and tell me if things between us are the same. I guess I’d better let you go. I just… (want to wish you a Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year. I love you always. Chez)”
All of this was going through my head as I anticipated what was going to happen next: The phone rang again. This time, I didn't pick up. I just let it go to the answering machine. "Fayd? Why did you hang up on me? I'd care to know. Please call me back. Here's the phone number..."
Then she called back again: "Fayd? I know you're there. Please pick up the phone. I really need to talk to you."
The phone rang one more time. I know my answering machine had some kind of funny outgoing message on it, but I can't remember what it was. This time, it was someone else leaving a message, a female: "Well, that's a really nice message, Fayd. My name is R****. How could you do that to Chez? She loves you A LOT!" And she said some other stuff before getting off the phone.
The phone didn't ring again. I didn't go out. I just sat there for the next hour, replaying the messages. I felt terrible for what I had put her through. But I still couldn't bring myself to call her and tell her the truth. The truth was that I still had feelings for her, but I wasn't finished hedging. I knew my relationship with Bez was going downhill, but I thought it could be salvaged. I also knew that my parents would never approve of Chez. Sometimes, it just felt like nothing was the best thing to do.
As it turned out, it was just a few days later that Bez broke up with me over the phone. But even after that happened, I still didn't call Chez. I was still optimistic that there was a future for me and Bez. I was wrong.
But I did reach out to Chez a couple of months later. As usual, that will be the topic of another post.
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