How long does it take to get to know someone? I mean really get to know them. I don't mean being able to spit out quick facts about another human like an a spelling bee in elementary school, where you wanted to shout it out so quickly so that everyone knew how smart you were. Knowing someone's favorite colors are black and gold is a very different fact that knowing what keeps them up at night or what word most makes their skin crawl. So when exactly do you hit that point of conversation when you pass on from favorite colors to hard-hitting facts?
The first time I realized he was different was the first time we spent a night together. He wasn't like the other people I knew. He didn't take the opportunity to be aggressive or assertive with his actions. He was hesitant, kind, & almost innocent. It was the first time I didn't feel claimed or controlled. I remember being frustrated and confused. I had never had an experience like this one.
The second time I realized he was different was when I realized he was coming to see me to actually talk to me. He didn't use me as an object or a verbal punching bag. His words were kind and genuine. He laid in bed across from me, just staring as I spoke of things I enjoyed. I remember apologizing for talking too much and he told me not to and asked why I felt the need to apologize for talking about things that interested me… I didn't know the answer. I remember the endless nights of drunk talks (except I was the only one drunk), and he was never mad.
I remember the third time I realized he was different. We came from a different world. Mine was soft, dry, and sheltered, while his was hard, damp, and wide open. I remember the first time he told me why he was the way he was; why he behaved with such mannerisms, why sometimes he seemed afraid of me, why he never yelled back when I was angry. I thought I knew that he was different than everyone else, but that night was the first time I learned just how different he really was.
I cried that night.
I cried a lot of nights after that too.
When do you cross that line of knowing someone's favorite color and step into learning about their darker side? Crossing that line, for him, depended on an enormous amount of trust and love. I don't remember if I thanked him for opening up to me. I don't remember if I had any encouraging words to say. What I do remember is that from that moment, on is that I held him a little bit tighter at night and loved him a little bit harder.
I wish I could go back sometimes and do it all over again and be better, but that’s not the case. You do not get a redo. You do not get to experience things like that twice.
I do not think I will ever meet someone like that again: someone so passionately bruised, who learned to love again after everything seemed lost. Someone like that deserves to be free. I could not hold him down, as much as I wish I could. I’d like to say his spirit is healed now, but I also know I could never really fix anything. I think I was like a heart defibrillator, the machine you use to shock a heart back into beating. I think our love was like that. Shockingly quick, a little painful, but in the end, beneficial, because without that shock, you’d be dead.
