Windward Review Vol. 20 (2022): Beginnings and Endings

“She’s from Atlanta. I met her in person in 2012 and she came here last May. She’s the
only person I ever would have married.”
The gears turn behind Heather’s eyes. “That’s the girl you took a selfie with at
the Bean. Natalie, right?”
I squint. “You’re stalking me.”
“Stalked,” she says, pointing at her webcam. “I was thinking of dating you.
Research is a given. I accepted you were weird, but I needed to know you weren’t
dangerous.”
Others have described me as “Weird, but not dangerous.”
“Anyway, that explains a lot,” she says.
“Natalie Belle—I call her ‘NB’—didn’t feel the same way when we she came
last May, though she never explained why. But I didn’t put it as clearly as I just did
with you; the ‘M Word.’ I always feared being too forward with her and wrecking our
relationship. On the other hand, I want to respect what she said. I don’t have much
reason to believe she saw in me what I saw in her.”
“Other than seeing it in her, hoping she felt the same.”
Which is often all we have: blind hope, dreams we hold close for years. When
it comes to love, so many of us are children thrashing in the deep end, and nobody ever
taught us how to swim.
I peer into my webcam, suddenly aware of the strangeness of some plastic
and metal firing a digital image to my friend’s laptop. We are so easily bent by the
movement of energy, the stroke of a pen, a glance too long or short. We are profoundly
affected beings. So much of my love for NB was forged through electrical signals and
ones and zeroes. I feared for so long telling NB that what I really wanted was to hold
her face in my hands while she smiled, to see the diamonds in her eyes without a screen
dividing us, to hear her voice without earbuds and a volume knob.
“I would have moved to Atlanta for her,” I say. “I never told her how I really
felt.”
“Wow,” Heather says.
“Her trip last year was vindication. My friends thought I was crazy for loving
someone I’d only met once before in person. By the time she left, they understood. If
they could see it, why couldn’t NB?”
Heather thinks it over. “Even with all the uncertainties, do you feel certain
enough about her to move to Atlanta?”
“Only money would stop me, and I’d figure it out.” I stop myself. “I didn’t even
have to think about that, did I?”
Heather nods. “Exactly. Let me be honest: I think you should tell her
everything. It isn’t just a crush. Tell her all the reasons you see you two working. And
then tell her you can’t just give up on it with no real explanation from her.”
“I don’t want to wreck my friendship with her.”
“She has to feel something for you, otherwise she wouldn’t have come to
Chicago.”
“That is what people said at the time.” I show a true smile. “Thanks for staying
friends with me. I’m sorry I dragged you into my mess.”
“I wouldn’t have found Paul otherwise. I’m rooting for you. I’m a hopeless
romantic at heart.”
“Penny, I’ve got a problem,” I say, pacing behind Parsonage House, my phone
pressed to my ear.
“Okay,” her voice crackles through the phone.
“Where are you, anyway?” I ask.
“Danny, we’ve been over this. I moved to New Jersey in January for work.”
“Oh, right. It sucks not having you around!”
157 Windward Review Volume 20
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