the one that got away

You wouldn’t think I’d have a One That Got Away since Joe and I have been together since I was 17, but...I do. He lives somewhere in the back of my mind and every once in a while I’ll think of him -- or dream about him, like I did on Sunday night.

In the dream, we’re sitting together in a place I don’t recognize and he asks me, “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we...?”

Yes. Yes, I do.

It was the summer before my senior year. I was working as a waitress at a certain all-night dining establishment specializing in waffles and “scattered, smothered, covered” potatoes, and he was home from college working there as a cook. We’d worked together before, and were social outside of work, too, since he was part of a larger group of friends that also happened to include Joe. He and Joe, as a matter of fact, grew up together, and had been close friends for years. I actually met Joe through him, which I guess is...interesting.

Anyway, during this particular summer, the dynamic between us was different than it ever had been before. We’d always had this sort of flirty, fun friendship. We had amazing conversations and witty banter that made everyone around us feel like an outsider. Our senses of humor were so compatible; to this day, I have never met a person with a sharper wit, or one who oozes sarcasm from their pores like he does. He’s one of the funniest people I’ve ever known.

This summer, though, there was a sort of tension to our interactions. There were things we weren’t saying and feelings we weren’t acknowledging. For me, I guess those feelings had been developing for a while. I can’t speak for him.

We started hanging out more outside of work, just the two of us. We’d go to the mall, to restaurants, or just drive around in one of our cars talking. One morning, after working a slow night shift together, we drove out to the reservoir and watched the sun rise over the water, sitting side by side with our hands curled around our cups of coffee rather than around each other. There was no torrid love affair; there was never even a kiss. The most intimate we ever were was at a movie, with a group of our friends, when we sat next to each other with our arms touching on the armrest between us, with his warm hand brushing against the outside of mine. That was all, but it was somehow so much. He was the subject of a lot of angsty poetry that summer (and oh, if you thought the stories were good, I really must share some of my teenage poetry with you. You'll LOVE IT).

I don’t think we would have had a Great Love. I think we would have had a summer romance, and I think it would’ve been fun, and that it would’ve ended when he went back to college in the fall. And I think that would have been doing a disservice to what we both wanted out of it. But the timing was wrong, and maybe it never would have been right. So we just...never acted. He graduated and moved to Maryland, and that was it. We lost touch.

He was supposed to be in our wedding, but backed out with only weeks left with a b.s. excuse (I have my suspicions about the real reason). I saw him for the first time in years in November of 2009, at our mutual friend’s memorial service, when I was pregnant with Will. After the ceremony was over, he made a beeline for Joe and me and gave me the tightest, longest hug. “It’s really nice to see you,” he whispered to me.

We all lingered after the memorial service, talking about the good old days and sharing memories of our friend. I found myself next to him at one point and he boxed me gently on the arm and said, “So, you good?”

“Great. How about you?”

“Great. I was thinking on the flight here about that summer. You remember that summer?”

“Of course I do.”

“That was a good summer.”

“Yes it was.”

I guess that was our closure -- our acknowledgement that something happened that summer, even if that something was really nothing.

He’s married now, and expecting a baby girl with his wife next month. I’m so happy for him, and yes, occasionally, when I think about him, I do get a little bit wistful.

But I also know that everything worked out exactly like it was supposed to. I am married to the most incredible person I could ever imagine for myself, and I love Joe completely, with my entire being. If something more had happened that summer, maybe Joe wouldn’t have called me that fall to ask me out on a date, because I was “off-limits” since I’d dated his friend. Maybe we wouldn’t have spent the last eleven-plus years together, building a home and a family and a life. I can’t imagine a life that didn’t include Joe or my sons. I don’t even want to try.

I don’t know why I dreamed about him the other night. But I’ve definitely been thinking about him more ever since then. Strangely, though, thinking about him and our summer is making me appreciate the life I have now even more. It’s confirming for me that I ended up exactly where I’m supposed to.

As if I need any more confirmation of that than my amazing husband, our rock-solid marriage, and our sweet sons.