Adult: After The Best Years And Innocence Wore Away (Last Week, Fall 2020)

  I fell out of love somewhere in the twilight of my twenties. At the time, the summer sun had burned out and those fall nights were sweeping through with a wind of change. There was a lot going on -which I won’t bother getting into- but it felt like all life would ever be was a bittersweet memory that I’d never get to see again. Of course, it all had do with the only true magic I’d ever felt in life; Johanna. Back then, Johanna was everything; a neighbor, an angel, bashful heartbeats, soul-stirring passion and in the end, something I could never keep. Not that she was to be possessed or anything of the sort, but I had a habit of squandering everything good away. That’s just the way love goes, though; in and out of life, but always stirring somewhere in your thoughts and making you wonder. 

  After Johanna moved out of the old apartment building, on an uncertain fall night between us, wondering seemed to be the only thing I ever did when it came her. Even through the few short years of one-night loves and straying from the hopeful hearts of others, who opened themselves up to me, all I could offer anyone was uncertainty. More than anything, I just didn’t want to let anyone close enough to stain their affection with the memories of regret and loss as mine had been. It's a terrible weight to carry through the days.

  So, the year I turned thirty, and those fall nights started to sing songs of sweet nostalgia once again, I couldn’t help but think how jaded I felt. Of course, I was still writing every night -not that I could help myself but to do any different- but after a few fallouts with publishers and magazines, I was keeping my sacred thoughts to myself for awhile. Hell, I couldn’t even find the thrill in drinking or going downtown any longer. All the faces that were so full of youth and had this insatiable thirst for life, that I’d see on those Friday nights, had all but settled down and accepted that this was as good as it was going to get. Even stranger to see was the sights of the old apartment building -which I’d recently moved back into after a dreadful year spent living at my mother’s place. All the old neighbors had either been evicted or long since moved away. Those nights that used to roar with madness and vagrancy had all but quieted themselves into a stillness that rarely saw the flashing lights of police cars at night. 

  As I sat on the front porch, sipping down the last drops of another hard day at work and trying to find some sort of solace in the calming breaths of a much-needed cigarette, I couldn’t help myself but to look over at the door around the side of the building; the one that Johanna used to call home. My curiosity always wandered its way over there -lustfully wondering if the magic and secrets were still whispered in the air at night. Most of the time, it was just the sounds of the college kids, who occupied the apartment, talking about their latest drug-fueled escapes. God bless their guts, because I was too tired for that kind of reckless spirit -as much as I missed the hell out of it at times. Life seemed to be rolling into the same predictable bore that I always feared it be. Those were the times that I missed Johanna the most; the quiet ones where the earth sat still and all I needed to feel was one glance in her direction. Unfortunately, all I seemed to be left with was the tired drags of growing old. 

  Soon enough, I’d be another one of those regular faces at the bar top with graceless years of hard-luck to keep me company. Even the stars that used to burn through the night with wild dreams seemed to lose a bit of their shine somewhere along the way. All of these hopeless and draining thoughts seemed to swirling around my head as I shambled my way back home, after meeting up with some of the same old friends in town for a few drinks. Johanna always said that “the universe knows when it’s best to smile down on you with a wink of good luck.” I couldn’t help but to think she was right; she always was. 

  I went through the motions of settling in at my apartment; kicking the shoes off, throwing myself on the couch and saying a prayer to get through the following morning without a hangover. Somewhere in the lifelessness of routine -namely, tossing out the majority of junk mail that stuffed my mailbox- I came across a letter that stuck out from the usual ones that I thumbed through. It was different in shape, color and expectation. There was a dusted-tan shade to the envelope and handwritten-ink that felt like it had been dipped into my soul to print the words with. 

  “Dear Ryan, I still don’t know why I’m writing this. To say hello…I guess? That’s the simple way of putting it. Did you ever think you’d see the day where I was the one lost for words? Honestly, I have a lot to say, for better or worse, and I can’t help but to wonder about you at times. That’s all I can really think for now. As I read over this, it all just seems like rambling but I hope you know what I’m trying to say, at least. You know how to find me, if you want to that is. -J.” 

  I read over the letter countless times, understanding fully what it said, but only coming to the conclusion of disbelief by the end of it. I never dreamed that on all those nights filled with useless regret and going-nowhere thoughts, that Johanna would ever be lost enough to feel the same. A wave of sorrow washed through me when I thought about her ever feeling that type of way. She deserved so much more than to ever feel as down and done as I did. I always imagined her moving so far on in life that I wasn’t even an afterthought in all of it. Maybe, that said more about how I saw life going for myself than anything else, but I knew she was amazing in whatever she was up; she always would be, to me at least. 

  My thoughts seemed to go in every direction except towards courage. All the moments when I wanted nothing more but a reason to reach out towards Johanna, and now that I was there, I was met with uncertainty. My stubborn pride -never allowing any room for mishaps if I could avoid them- didn’t want to make a mess of things before I had the chance to make them right. So, I did nothing, and hoped that the moment wouldn't pass me by. It took a few days before I found my nerves enough to call the old telephone number that I still knew by heart. It felt strange to call Johanna -it always did, though. Most of our time together was by chance meeting that came by the magic of rapping on each other’s apartment window or crossing paths in the laundry room at night. Our lives danced together in a way that never worried about what the next step was; we just followed the rhythm of what felt right, and it brought us together more often than not. 

  “Hello,” her voice sang into my ear through the other end of the phone. Just like that, I felt that young crazed feeling deep in the beating of my heart -the one that searched for thrill, for life and every mystery in it. Every down-trotted day between the years seemed to be all for nothing now. I was burning up with desire. I couldn't hold it in. I was on fire; all the memories that burned furiously through the nights -dreaming of Johanna and just one desperate moment to be with her again. As I lit a cigarette and took a deep breath for a conversation that was sure to be anything but easy and comfortable, I couldn’t help but to hold in the first genuine reason to smile in quite some time. There were mountains to move, mistakes to forgive and forgo, but after all the ashes of the past burned out, there was us; together again.