What Am I Doing?

Oh, how drama never alludes me.

I just finished reading my final text for my Ethnic and American Lit. class--Bernard Malamud's The Assistant, which is a fabulous novel that hit my soul in a way that has made me do something I'm not sure how I feel about. I love books-classics, per se- that focus on a time when love was so much sweeter than it seems today. Couples took it "slow" in their relationships and a single, simple gift could make a significant impact on one's heart. Love was valued and sex symbolized something beautiful; not trashy as it is depicted in virtually everything we see nowadays.

Chad was the object of my affection for a long time. I would say he was my first love, but seeing how the feelings weren't (immediately) reciprocated, I'd probably have to say he was just my first hard crush. I noticed him at marching band practice the summer before 8th grade. He was a senior, terribly shy, but nonetheless appealing to me in every way. There's always been something about the mysterious types that makes me swoon; something that makes me want to get close to them and unravel the mystery. He was also a bona fide genius and wore glasses--two assets that made me all the more attracted to him.

A couple of weeks after I first took interest in Chad, I remember riding down a country road with my dad after we had just been to a farm auction. I remember that day so well that I can still recall the weather and what I was wearing, though neither detail is relevant. Dad randomly asked if I knew a kid named Chad so-and-so, and I froze, thinking that dad had found out about my crush. But instead, he told me he had heard that this kid's dad committed suicide the night before. My heart skipped a beat, for even though I didn't really know Chad, I felt tremendous anguish, sympathy perhaps. I did know his two brothers--one was a year older than I and the other was two years younger, a good friend of my little cousin's, so my heart ached for the entire family.

Weeks later at band camp it was no longer a secret that I had intense emotions for this guy. Since we went to a small, rural school that literally sits in a cornfield, it was hard to keep any such "secrets" private, for everyone knew everything about everybody. I always hated that. But anyway, I could never bring myself to look him in the face; instead, I would get downright flustered when I was within 50 feet of him. My face would flush, I would start laughing hysterically...I just couldn't control my self, even though I desperately wanted to get to know him...and do so without coming across as the giggling school girl that I was.

Looking back, I don't remember much about 8th grade except for Chad-related events. At band camp, my childhood best friend, Misty, (who always interfered in one way or another with any of my relationships) "arranged" for Chad and I to dance during the end-of-the-week camp celebration. Chad walked over to me and pulled me to the dance floor, though keep in mind, neither of us had said more than two words to each other. Ever. We danced silently to a song from The Little Mermaid, and then we separated. That was one of my first experiences of life where I remember thinking my heart would leap wildly out of my chest at any given moment.

School started and I quickly tracked Chad's schedule. I knew where to be and when so that I could give him an "opportunity" to talk to me. I sat in the front row of Algebra class, which proved two benefits: One, so that Chad could see me when he came in to do office running errands, and two, so that I could flash my legs to the perv teacher who was notorious for giving higher grades to skirt-wearing girls. As far as opportunities, Chad never did talk to me. Between his backwards nature, our four year age difference, and my own shyness, we just never connected even though he full well knew that I had a HUGE crush on him. Occasionally we'd make quick smiles at each other in the hall if we were both bold enough to look up at the same time, but that was about it. Even though plenty of people made it known to him how I felt, I never got such reports one way or another how he felt.

Wrestling season rolled around and I quickly signed up to be a mat maid--one who helps keep stats--with my friend, Donna, who happened to be dating one of Chad's friends. Since Jeremy and Chad were both wrestlers, it only made sense that Donna and I be interested in the position to follow them through the season. My health teacher, the coach, even knew about my interest in Chad and always gave me hell for it. One time during class he jumped out in the hallway and nabbed Chad, having him to stand before the classroom as he announced, "Take a good look around, Chad. Someone in here has a maaaaad crush on you." And then he added, "Right, Audrey?" I about died.

Over Christmas Break, I bawled my eyes out nearly every day because that meant I didn't get to see him. Snow days sucked for the same reason. Other kids were cheering at the idea of missing a day of school; I cried. Five of my close friends (our clique) drew names and exchanged gifts at a party over that Christmas Break. Misty had my name and was able to get Chad's senior pictures from Donna, who had to get them from Jeremy. She had them framed-truly the best gift I got that year.

Then there was prom, and even though I was a lowly 8th grader, I had high hopes of him inviting me. I knew the chances were slim, though, so when another senior randomly invited me one day in the library, I jumped at the chance just so I could be a part of the event. It was pretty excruciating, having to see Chad with someone else, but I still caught him stealing glances at me from time to time that night. Unfortunately, I caught a table on fire, thus drawing unnecessary attention to myself, but that's an entirely different story all together.

Chad came and went. He graduated that spring and even though he was out of sight, he was never really out of mind. I thought about him frequently until new changes took place; nature took it's course and ultimately, life went on.

Fast forward to the week of finals in my second year of college. It was December six years ago, to be exact, when I was just 19. I had finished all my exams but was waiting on my friend to finish a paper because we rode to campus together that day. As she typed, I decided to get on the computer beside her and hop into a Yahoo chat room. I saw a screenname that consisted of his first name initial and his last name followed by "99". Out of sheer boredom, I clicked on his screenname in the corner and struck up conversation. Taking a total shot in the dark, I asked if his name was Chad. He said yes. I asked if he went to our high school. He said yes. I asked about his last name, and again, he gave an affirmative answer. The real clincher was when he typed out my name.

My full unusual name.

And here we had barely said two words to each other in school. I was so shocked. I mean really, what could be more ironic? Five years pass and here I was typing to the guy I had obsessed about for so long. Even more nuts was when he suggested meeting me for supper that night. He was away at a college two and a half hours away, but he wanted to come home that very night and have dinner with me anyway.

Wow. Just remembering all this is making me so excited all over again.

But anyway. We did end up meeting at the local Applebee's that night and talked for nearly two hours. It seemed like we had known each other for years, though neither of us had really known each other at all. I was impressed by the fact he was able to reveal his feelings more at this point, rather than dodging me with merely a shy glance here and there. It was like I was finally getting to reveal the mystery.

We agreed to see each other again, and the rest is so-called history. We dated for a week or so and then declared our love the week of Christmas. We eventually made love, too, which was the quintessential pinnacle of what I'd always dreamed for. It was like a storybook romance...but without the fairy tale ending.

In January, it started to occur to me that I needed more. When I stepped back and evaluated the situation as an adult and not a googly-eyed 14 year old, I realized that we would not be compatible in a long-term way. I started to see that we were, in fact, polar opposites, or at least, we had grown that way. He wore a cowboy hat and boots; I considered myself a trendy co-ed. He loved his country music; I despised it. He liked to watch movies alone on the couch; I wanted to go out dancing, partying up. And then there was the fact I felt like he was so smart he was stupid. Have you ever known anyone like that? Someone who will sit there and correct you all the time, perhaps quote a text book til they are blue in the face, but can't recognize when a girl is dropping a heavy hint about a simple thing. Not only that, I got into his email, based on a strange suspicion, and found that he was advertising his genitals in his profile. It appalled and disgusted me, further tipping me to the realization I could not be happy with him.

So I started to avoid his calls. I didn't have the guts to break it off, and I didn't really want to completely. It wasn't that I wanted to string him along, but I needed to figure out my own thoughts before I could determine whether or not to end the relationship entirely. He got to the point where he would call every hour, sometimes ten times an hour. I tried to ignore the phone, realizing it would cease eventually when he would be going back to college for the spring semester. But one day, I should have answered.

I arrived at work at the video store, relieved to not hear the phone any more when my boss tells me that Chad had been calling all afternoon. I was annoyed to no end, as Chad knew I wasn't supposed to have personal calls. So I called him up, ready to rip into him when he said, "My brother is dead."

Ryan, his youngest brother and my cousin's good friend, had lost control of his car that morning after I left their house. He was still in high school, as were the two friends who also lost their lives with him.

I was there for Chad through it all, not having the heart to break up with the guy in the middle of such a crisis. If anything, it brought us together and our relationship grew during the next few weeks. Chad finally announced, just before going back to college, that he was enlisting in the military.

It was my way out. He wanted me to go with him, but I used it as an excuse to gently break out of the relationship. I told him that I knew he was going to go places--and I genuinely meant that--but I couldn't up and leave my own college path, family, etc.

So, tonight, I finish reading The Assistant and hop online to give my e-mail one final check for the day and Chad is sending me an Instant Message. He is coming home in two weeks from his military base and I have agreed to meet him, presumably to talk. He's told me before--a year ago when I last chatted with him-- that he still loves me and would do anything in the world for me. He knows that I am married and have a son, and yet he's stated that my friendship is most important to him.

Part of me yearns to "be friends" again, and perhaps a small portion of me wants to see where things would go, especially after seeing how my own marriage has taken such a tumultuous tumble after my husband's affair earlier this year. Now that's NOT to say I would open the door for an affair, myself, but a part of me wants to be treated with that sweetness, the tender passion of friendship all over again. Our relationship was sacred, something that I can't say now about my own marriage. No matter how optimistic I try to be, I cannot seem to feel much of anything--friendship, passion, or otherwise--for my own husband after what he did. My moral conscience eats at me every day, keeping me engaged in an unsatisfactory marriage even though I simply cannot be happy with someone who has put someone else before me--particularly in the manner he did it. There is no trust, yet I feel morally obligated to give him his second chance even though I am quite frankly, dead to any emotion with him. I'm still a wife, going through my merry motions, but deep down, I feel that I deserve more.

But then I suppose I'm getting into two separate issues here. Regardless of my marital situation, a part of me still wonders what would have ultimately happened with Chad if I hadn't pulled back. Maybe we were more alike than I thought. Maybe a second chance would have proven we were truly meant to be.

What have I gotten myself into?