Just to Be Loved

 

His office door was open and I quietly stepped inside. I was thankful he was alone; sitting at his desk, intently focused on the papers in front of him.

I cleared my throat, “Well you got old.” I was joking with him, trying to ease back into the connection we once shared. They were the first words I'd spoken to him in over thirty years.
He raised his gaze and took me in, “Well you didn't.” It was almost a complimentary appraisal.
“That's not exactly right... but you've always had a few years on me.” I felt uneasy.

“Seventeen wasn't it?” He was shocked to see me but would never let it show. He almost smiled, and then caught himself. “What are you doing here?” He was suddenly agitated, just like the last time I'd tried this.

“I thought that would be obvious. How have you been?”
“I've been well, all things considered.” He was still wearing his wedding ring.

He didn't reciprocate my question; I wasn't surprised. He wasn't happy to see me.
What had I expected?
“I was only kidding Vernon, you look... you look really good.” I wanted to sound casual, this wasn't going well.
“That's the first time you've ever called me that.” He looked up at me, then back down at the papers in front of him.
“Yeah, it... feels weird now huh? Should I still call you Mr. Powers?”
He didn't answer, or look up. Maybe this was a bad idea.

It felt the same, this scenario; even though the environment was different. Back then, it had been a classroom, now it was a church office.
A lot had changed. I was an adult now, newly divorced and he was widowed for almost a year.

“So, I heard about Alice. I'm very sorry. I know that you... loved her.”

He smiled that same sideways smile and touched the gold band he'd worn ever since I'd known him. His eyes were melancholy, but there was still a fire behind them, only now little rows of wrinkles framed them. His salt and pepper hair had turned solid white. Thirty years was a long time.
Why had I waited so long? Marriage, kids... a life; but always memories of him and a path not taken.

He didn't look up, and continued sorting the papers on his desk, “Thank you,” he said with a tinge of sadness mixed with an emotion I couldn't quite place.
Maybe he knew how hard that was for me to say. She was not a nice person, at least she hadn't been to me all those years ago. But then, I had been in love with her husband. So maybe she'd had a right.
I had been young, but the love had been real. And nothing ever really happened. Not for lack of trying on my part; he'd had a hell of a reserve, he'd never touched me. He was a saint.

“Well, I just wanted you to know that I am truly sorry for your loss. And I wanted, no I needed to tell you...” My voice trailed off. I wasn't so sure I could say what I'd come to say now.
He looked up. Finally. “Tell me what?”
There were tears in his eyes. Was he crying for her, or for me... or maybe for himself?
I paused. Too long. He looked down again.
No, I would not let this end badly. Not again. I walked over to him, placed my hand on his shoulder, then touched his cheek.
“I wanted to tell you that I love you. I have always loved you, and if you want to talk, or anything else, please call me.”
I handed him a scrap of paper with my cell phone number scribbled on it. He reluctantly took it, and I left before he could say anything.
I ran out of the church and across the empty parking lot. A repeat of the last time I had seen him; four years after graduation. Only I hadn't had the nerve to confess my true feelings then, I had only managed to tell him that I was getting married; then I'd ran away from him, just like today.
He had seemed cold and unfeeling, then and now, but I knew somewhere in his heart, he still loved me. He'd confessed it once, and it had held a sacred place within me for more than three decades. A love that could go nowhere, only to sit unattended, not growing, not dying; protected and hidden away from the world. And it was still there.

I knew I would never hear from him. He wouldn't call, and I wouldn't bother him again. I only wanted him to know that for thirty years, he had remained in a special place in my heart.

Maybe it was enough for both of us, just to be loved. And to know.

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