The universe has a strange way of folding time. We carry happenings within ourselves, particularly the bad ones, unprepared to stumble upon someone who was in the same murky tide-pool when a nightmarish ripple changed everything forever. It’s been more than twenty years since the stone was thrown, yet the surface is still broken and the dirty water laps at muddy shores on a daily basis.
I never expected to meet someone who was in that water with me. Much less someone that I’ve worked with for eight years, and have always considered a friend. The things we don’t share with each other can be the exact thing that draws us together – kismet, I suppose.
Random conversation brought truth to light this week. Funny how that happens.
As we talked, the hair on the nape of my neck began to stand. She knew. The utterance of one name leaving my lips, the look of recognition on her face. The sobs that followed, bursting unbidden from us both. Her, too.
A busy office is not a good place for a revelation like this to occur. We were ushered into a private office, where we spent the morning talking of trials and testimony from a lifetime ago.
And then the awkwardness set in.
We are, to each other, walking reminders of something we’d both rather forget.
I called my Mom as soon as I got home. (Yes, I’m 42 and I still run to my Mama when crap like this happens.) “That’s weird,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about that all day today.”
Kismet. Fate. Destiny.
Now I’m wondering what I’m supposed to do with what has been handed to me. What am I supposed to learn from this experience? Or, is it simply the last sentence in the last chapter of that particular story? Do I finally have an ending?
To close the book would be sublime.
As for me and her, we made it through the week. She’s a tough cookie, like me. There is a new acknowledgement when our eyes meet, and an iron strength that we pass silently to one another.
That part is pretty cool, actually.