Unquenched (9 page)

She came to my apartment to say hello, but really she had come to
see Jordan.  She and Jordan had a nice relationship but they hadn't seen each
other since I had left for Asia.  As they interacted happily I felt my heart
being torn.  It was one more thing that I loved about Jordan.  His wonderful
ability to care for others and make others care for him.  And yet as I watched
him, he appeared to me differently than he had on our three week trip.  But I
knew the changed person was me and not him, the reality was just setting in.

Jordan excused himself to go move his car, and my sister and I
were alone.  She and I were close, incredibly close, and she knew of my
innermost thoughts.  She knew about Tristan, my confusion and desires, but had
her opinions all the same. 

"What did you finally decide," she asked me, hoping that
I planned to go.  She really liked Jordan and understood what lacked, but had
reasons for me going despite it. 

My answer was melancholy as I told her my decision, but explained
that I still wasn't happy.

"I think you should go and see how you feel, but don't stay
around for Tristan." 

She didn't need to say it, I knew what she was thinking.  Her face
spoke words of its own.  But then she looked at me.  She saw my distress.  And
she knew that Jordan was not the answer.

"I need to feel the excitement I've been missing.  The
passion that I have always dreamt of feeling for him but never have.  Now, its
close enough to touch," I said sadly. 

"I know, I want to feel that way too," she admitted. 
"OK, I'm not encouraging this," she said.  "But I have an idea. 
Why don't you take my car?"

She had just bought a car and I didn't own one, but I wasn't quite
sure what she meant. 

She added, "If you and Jordan take separate cars, you can
come home whenever you want."

My eyes opened wide as thoughts raced through my head, wondering
if it was really an option. 

"Really, are you serious, I mean it's a five hour drive.  You
don't mind if I drive it that far, you haven't really used it yourself." 

She replied, "Honestly, I'm not that psyched about it but I
want you to have the opportunity to do what you want.  By the way, when was the
last time you drove a stick shift?" 

We both laughed, remembering the jerky movements and number of
stalls that I made her last car perform. 

"Years ago, but I promise, I know how to drive one," I
said with a chuckle.  It actually did scare me to think about the distance but
suddenly, there was no obstacle too big. 

"Well, there's one more thing," she added.  "You
know that I'm going on vacation tomorrow, and I was planning on driving my car
to the airport. If you're taking the car, I need to know tonight so I can plan
for a ride tomorrow.  Oh, and another thing.  If you take it, you're
responsible for it the entire week until the day I get back.  When you bring it
back to the city, you have to follow the rules for
alternate side of the
street parking
.  You have to move it every day, or every other day,
depending on the spot you get." 

Suddenly this was getting extremely complicated and I wasn't very
comfortable with what I was taking on.  A manual car.  My sister's car.  A five
hour trip.  By myself.  And then back.  Parking for a week in Manhattan.  There
were never any spots in Manhattan.  Maneuvering in and out of those little
spots with a stick.  I was definitely better on the highway with a stick.  And
my sister.  It would inconvenience her.  She would have to take a cab to the
airport.  I should probably offer to pay.  But I knew that all of it only
seemed insurmountable because of the deceit I was creating.  I didn't know what
I was going to tell Jordan.  Why I was leaving the Cape early.  But I knew that
he wouldn't be entirely surprised, he would however, be disappointed.

Jordan and I spent the evening together as I finished my last
minute packing.  We ate and had fun but my stomach still ached, as my guts were
bursting inside.  My sister had since gone and I had not yet made up my mind. 
She told me that she would be out late that night, and that I should leave her
a message on her answering machine.  She would then call a cab to reserve for
the next day, after she got home that night.  New York was good that way,
nothing ever closed.  But, having the option, I struggled all over again.  I
despised myself for considering the choice, but more, for thinking I could do
it.  I could punish myself to make me feel better, if that's what it took to
see him.  Yes, that's what I would do.  So I picked up the phone, my portable
one, and took it with me to the bathroom. 

"Hi, it's me," I whispered into the phone.  "I'd
like to take the car tomorrow, if that's still OK.  I'll call you in the
morning."  Her voice was very soothing yet my sister wasn't home, but her
machine would talk to her that night.

Jordan and I woke up several hours later.  It was 6:30 a.m. and
early for us.  After a long day of driving, he wanted to relax and ensure that
we'd have a full day.  I told Jordan that I was going into the shower, but I'd
hurry so he could get in soon.  Before I went in, he had all his clothes on and
said he was going downstairs. 

"I'll be back in a minute," he said, "I'm just
going to bring the car around so we can load our things right in front." 

I closed the door behind him and got undressed, ready to go into
the shower.  Then I stopped.  I turned off the water to make a quick phone call
as I realized I had never told Tristan.  I panicked at the thought of Jordan
walking in, wondering who I was calling so early.  It wasn't ringing yet.  The
connection always took so long.  International calls for some reason always did
that.  I heard the rings and I prayed for his machine to go off already.  I
knew he wasn't home but I wanted to make sure that he knew that I was coming
back to New York.  After all I'd been through and was about to go through, I
didn't want him to have other plans.  I wasn't sure if he had friends in New
York, but I wasn't willing to take the chance.  I really felt confident, that
if he knew I'd be back, he would spend it with me, no doubt.  But he wasn't aware
and there was no point to risk the possibility of missing him.  The machine
went off and I understood the words as he had changed his message to English. 

"Tristan, hi it's me again," I felt familiar enough with
him to say that.  "I don't have time to explain right now, but I'll be
back in New York tomorrow.  There's been a change of plans, and now I will be
able to see you," I added. 

I didn't want to tell him I was coming back for him, at the same
time I needed to know he'd be there. 

"So I hope that you haven't made any other plans, and if you
have, I guess you'll just have to cancel them," I said playfully. 
"Anyway, I know when you're arriving, you already told me, but I won't
arrive until later.  I should be back about 8 p.m.  So try and go to sleep when
you get here," I chuckled.  "This way you'll be able to stay awake
when I arrive.  Oh, and one last thing.  If for some reason you are not still
able to get together, please leave me a message on my machine.  You don't have
to call if we're still on.  So, if I don't hear from you, I'll assume that I
will see you tomorrow.  Have a good night," and with that, I hung up the
phone.

I dialed again, this time to my sister.  I knew she'd be up
getting ready for her trip and we had to sort out the car.  I had discussed it
with Jordan the night before and his response was as I expected.  He was
confused, upset, and frustrated with my urgency, to get back to New York so
soon.  He viewed the four days away almost like a vacation.  For me it was
different, in more ways than one.  But after a conversation, he went along with
it regrettably because we could only discuss it for so long. 

"Hi," I said, after I heard my sister's voice.  "I
didn't wake you did I?" 

"No," she said, "but I am in a rush and we're going
to have to go through the details quickly." 

I could tell that she wished that I wasn't taking her car and
wished that she had never even offered it.  I didn't blame her.  Although it
was used, it was new to her, and I wasn't exactly adept with a stick.  She was
worried about the car but it was really more than that.  She was definitely
worried about me.  It was cold outside, the car had its problems and she feared
that I could get stuck.  And then, more than that, there was the reason that I
was taking it.  With her, it did not sit well. 

"Just come to my apartment to get the keys and we'll talk
about it as I get dressed," she said with a sharpness in her voice.

Jordan came back and I was showered and dressed and it was my turn
to go get the car.  I took the elevator down, crossed through the lobby, and
walked to the other side of the building.  My sister lived in the building, but
lived in a different bank.  She was my younger sister.  She was the only
sibling I had.  I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the
eleventh floor.  As the elevator ascended, my thoughts ran rampant and my
emotions were somewhat unrestrained.  I knew at that moment how much I loved
her and I was lucky that we were such good friends.  But I had always loved
her.  It wasn't just then.  I may have loved her because she was my sister but
I genuinely liked her too.  We had so much to share and could make each other
laugh - my life wasn't complete without her.  I wasn't sure why but I had
quickly become melancholy and tearfully sentimental as well.  Nostalgic was
probably a more fitting word.  The guilt was setting in.  I knew it.  I was
feeling unsure of what I was doing and everything suddenly felt wrong.  I had
difficulty doing anything when I knew she disagreed, she was almost my inner
conscience.  Her support wasn't good enough.  I wanted her to advocate my every
step.  I needed to know she would have done the same if she had been in my
place.  It was like looking at myself and seeing my thoughts as I knew we had
been brought up the same way.  We shared the same morals.  It was just easier
to see the thoughts on her when I had difficulty admitting the truth to
myself.  I no longer felt confident that testing my feelings was really the
right thing to do.  I had doubts.  Her doubts just made me confirm my own.  I
felt small.  I felt vulnerable and alone.  She suddenly felt like my older
sister, or what I imagined it would have felt like if I had one.  Someone who I
could have leaned on that had already experienced what I had been going
through.  The feeling was new and I was a little uncomfortable about needing
her in that way.  I had been accustomed to going through life's experiences,
between the two of us, first.  But then I remembered instances from the past
and I actually began to laugh.  Like when she was in college and I had traveled
abroad, I lent her my used, but very good car.  I never saw that car again.  Or
the time that she asked me to type up her resume.  And then the cover letters. 
And then write them.  All fifty of them.  And print them, and send them out. 
Or when she decided to visit me in Asia.  Last minute.  And I had asked her to
come four months in advance.  And she couldn't commit.  Soon after, I made
travel plans with a close friend.  But then, she wanted to come.  She begged me
to come.  I finally agreed.  She always had a way of getting to me.  Then to
boot, she even brought a friend.  Or my apartment in Manhattan, how she managed
to move in immediately after she graduated from college.  Oh, how the memories
were endless.  Yes, she was definitely my younger sister.  And so, none of us
were perfect.  I got off at the eleventh floor and suddenly, I regained all of
my courage.

We embraced each other, she raced around the floor, and then, she
handed me the keys.

"This is the key to the car door," she said, "this
one is for the ignition and this little one, is for the bar lock that I have on
the wheel." 

"Thanks." I said, "I really appreciate it.  I
promise I'll get it home in one piece." 

She looked at me then, straight in the eyes and asked, "Are
you sure you still want to do this?"

My heart felt heavy while she packed her bags as she instilled
more doubt within me.  I actually felt angry at her for raising the issue, but
I knew she was giving me an out. 

"I can't believe you're bringing this up, now, at the final
moment," I shouted.  "If you felt this way yesterday, you should have
said something then.  Don't wait until I'm walking out the door when you know
that I'm on my way.  Either you're with me or you're not, but don't make me
second guess myself even more than I've been doing.  I don't feel good about
this, but you know that already.  I don't need you to make me feel worse.  And
you also know, that the feelings I have for Tristan, I've been waiting a
lifetime to feel," I snapped. 

"But he's a German flight attendant that lives in Germany! 
This isn't something that's real," she said with frustration. 

"I don't care what he does or where he's from, it's all about
what I feel," I retorted.  "I'm not saying that I'm going to marry
this guy, I don't even say that it's about him.  But I just need to examine my
feelings and understand this high."  I looked at her, feeling exposed
again, and wondered if I trusted my instincts. 

"OK," she said.  "I just wanted to ask you again. 
Have a great time and I'll talk to you when I get back.  Love you," she
said, and smiled.  I looked at her and said, "Love you too."