Trust

This post is for my first love, and the one who started this whole journey in me.

On here, I’ll call you C.

You were my ground zero, my heart’s beginning.

We were so young when we met, I was sixteen, you seventeen.

I remember the first time I saw you, at lunchtime in the quad.

So charismatic and charming.

Something in me noticed your fire, your spark, your intensity.

In a sea of kids I’d known most of my life, you were a new transfer.

You noticed me too.

I don’t really remember how we first connected, a mutual friend I think.

Somehow you got my number, and you called…

A lot.

I’d never been pursued before, and it was both intimidating and exhilarating.

Of course, I saw you as a friend at first.

I was so shy and guarded with boys, but it had never occurred to me that I could fall for another girl.

Until you.

And fall I did, so hard.

We were suddenly inseparable, spending every moment we could together.

But it was a different time.

And even once we realized we were in love, we didn’t tell people.

It was beautiful, but also hard.

You were in the midst of deep grief and trauma.

And came from a different background than I did.

Your family was more conservative than mine.

You weren’t ready to really embody your whole self yet.

So we held our love quietly.

I only told my best friend, and she kept our secret like a vault.

I hated hiding it like that.

I remember wanting to go to prom with you so badly, but you just couldn’t do it.

So I went with a boy, and cried in the bathroom the whole time because I just wanted to be there with you.

I made him drive me to your house after, instead of going to the after parties.

I showed up late at your front door in my big princess dress, and we made love all night.

After we graduated, we both went to colleges that were close enough for us to see each other frequently.

We were finally out by then, but now we had to navigate being long distance.

And it was still hard.

Eventually, too hard.

You had an affair, and broke my heart.

I thought I’d never talk to you again.

Couldn’t imagine ever trusting you enough to even be friends.

Two decades went by, and I rarely thought of you.

Then mom died.

I had spent ten years caring for dad, watching him fade slowly and walking with him through death.

Then mom too.

Three days after she passed, I was sitting on my back porch in the evening.

I’d felt her presence really strongly in those days, seen images of her young and free in all her favorite places.

That night I heard a message come through.

It’s time to reach out to her, it said.

It didn’t clarify who she was, but I knew immediately.

It was you.

I couldn’t understand why my mom wanted me to contact you, out of the blue, after all that time.

It made no sense to me, but who was I to question such a message?

So I did.

On instagram.

You replied right away.

Expressing your condolences for my mom.

Then it came.

A long, heartfelt apology for how it had ended between us.

I had let go of ever hearing it, hadn’t been waiting for it or needing it.

But damn, it felt good to read your words.

It unlocked something in me, feelings I’d buried so long ago.

All the love I realized I still had for you.

So we started messaging, and then talking on the phone.

Then we saw each other.

As our eyes connected after all that time, my breath caught in my chest.

Some part of me knew, immediately, I was in deep.

We fell back in love, hard and fast.

It was beautiful, and brutal.

I was in deep grief, so vulnerable and open.

And it felt like you’d been waiting twenty years for a second chance with me.

It was really hard to tell my husband, I felt so ashamed and guilty.

How could I love you like this when I loved him with all my heart?

It didn’t make any sense to me then.

I had never considered I had the capacity to love more than one person like that.

We tried our best to navigate it all for a while.

Me, you, him.

But it was especially difficult for you.

It had been so many years, but your trauma was still with you.

And it was just too much, with me being married.

You’d always be wanting more, you said.

And you had your own demons you were still wrestling with.

You just couldn’t do it.

I understood, but it broke my heart all over again.

We tried to be friends for a while, but it was too painful for me.

I was still so in love with you, and every time we talked it hurt.

So we stopped.

It’s been almost a year now since we reconnected, and we’re talking again.

I haven’t seen you since last summer, when we kissed.

Though it feels like yesterday.

Do you remember?

I cried at first.

Partly because it was the first time I’d kissed anyone besides my husband in eighteen years.

Partly because it had been over twenty years since our lips had touched, and my whole body felt the force of it.

You held me and wiped my tears, and then we made out for hours in your truck.

Just tasting and touching each other, remembering who we once were and rediscovering who we are now all at once.

This week, I’ll see you again.

I’m going to visit you.

So much has happened since that kiss.

So many months of heartache and letting go.

I’ve moved through my grief for my mom, the big waves of it anyway.

I’ve realized I’m poly, and started dating.

I’ve slept with other people.

We went months without hearing each other’s voices.

What will it be like now?

I’m still in love with you, but it sits inside me differently.

I feel like I can hold my love for you without it consuming me.

In connecting with new lovers, I’ve learned a lot about how to care deeply for someone without being too attached to them.

I wonder, can I do that with you?

Will everything I’ve cultivated in myself on this journey translate to us?

Will we connect as friends, or something more?

Will I be okay with either?

I’m not sure, but the only way I’ll know is to see you.

Maybe now you’re ready, to let me in, to let me love you.

Or maybe it will just still be…

Too hard.

I’m trying to prepare my heart for both options.

Trying to hold my love for you in a way that doesn’t create any expectations or desired outcomes.

I’m not sure I’m succeeding, but I’m trying.

I know now, I’ve always been in love with you.

All that time, and this whole year, I’ve never stopped.

I know now, I’m always going to be in love with you.

I think I’ve made peace with it, regardless of whether I can act on those feelings.

I know they’ll always be there.

I hope I can feel them and still have you in my life.

I’ve really missed you.

All that time we weren’t talking.

And these last months of space too.

I’m trusting that this will all work out how it is meant to.

That we will find our way, love.

I don’t know yet what kind of relationship will be best for us.

But I’m trying to just have faith.

To trust you, and even more…

To trust me.