When I Knew

When I Knew

"When did you know that you loved me"? I asked Sean, brushing my fingers against his pale Irish skin that smelled of Old Spice. We sat on the soft leather sofa by the fireplace in his tastefully furnished Tahoe condo, surrounded by the aroma of woodsmoke and pine-scented candles that filled the air. It was a quarter past midnight, and the moonlight glowed through the patio, turning the nearby walls into a brief starry night. Sean glanced at me in complete awe. Desire took over his handsome face and his cheeks reddened.

I always found myself uneasy around men. Past encounters have made me feel insecure about my body. I spent too much time in the bathroom weighing myself, perming my hair, experimenting with bottles and brands of makeup, while counting calories to prove that I was more than a dreamer, that I was worthy. I decided to make no calls, send no texts, and erasing most friends and acquaintances from my memory, hoping they would find someone who could give them what I couldn't. It took more than a decade for me to become the person I was, through years of self-discipline, determination, and patience.

I was always dreaming about my April wedding day. I would be dressed in my grandmother’s lacy bridal dress with its long veil trimmed with pearls. I would look at my chosen in the eyes, with my warm hands grasped in his, reciting our tender vows, swearing to be there in sickness in health.

Sean had old Irish charm, a caring soul and undeniable presence. His voice was deeply masculine, and his vocabulary was uncannily rich. He was gentle and peaceful. I asked repeatedly, what was it about me, Roisin, that attracted Sean.

His long fingers interlocked with mine as he began to speak in his deep baritone.

"Do you remember that afternoon we spent at the Presidio? That summer day was unusual in San Francisco. The temperature was about 90. You were wearing a blue poke a dot sundress. Your dark hair was wavy, reaching down your back. We had a spring picnic at Crissy Field, and after 3 glasses of champagne, we danced in the open is if the earth was applauding beneath our feet. We learned so much about each other there-- our favorite Beatles songs “Hey Jude” and “Let it Be; our favorite foods of lasagna and prime rib and blackberry pie as well as our fears, hopes, and dreams for the future. Sean smiled. "You told me you had just discovered the jazz of Herb Albert and Ella Fitzgerald. And I said, welcome to the classics, my little friend!”

As the March day waned, we embraced on the park bench, watching the San Francisco sunset blaze over the Golden Gate and Alcatraz. I remember you starting to sweetly nod off. When I moved closer it was like life was on pause. I was blissful. You were safe with me and nothing else mattered. That's when I knew, Roisin. That’s when I knew.”

I held his face and gently kissed his forehead and it felt as if all the angels in heaven were smiling down on me. Sean’s gentle words made me feel like I was everything to him as he was to me. I remember that day as if there were no other.

Sean placed his yellow windbreaker around my shoulders. His plaid shirt, his green cargo pants, and his clean Nikes attracted me. His arms were wiry and muscled. His auburn curls gave him a resemblance to Michelangelo’s David. I remember telling Sean my all-time favorite film was Gone with the Wind because of my Southern Roots and the incomparable Vivian Lee who was obstinate at times, but passionate also. Sean loved Raiders of the Lost Ark because he liked adventure flicks, especially one starring his hero Harrison Ford. All I ever wanted in a long relationship was comfort and stability and Sean was all of that, and much more.

It was now 2 am on Christmas Eve. Sean got up and made his way towards the stereo, and turned on George Michael’s “Last Christmas”. It echoed through the entire apartment. He grabbed my hand, and we slow danced, singing:

I thought you were here to stay

How could you love me for a day?

I thought you were someone special

I gave you my heart.

Before we knew it, we were kissing, touching, and ending the night by making slow love as dozens of crystal snowflakes fell softly from the sky.

Christmas snuck up the next day. The December air was frigid. I had only one space heater to warm my small apartment. It was past 7 am and I jumped out of bed. I rushed to brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on my everyday outfit: black cargo pants, a black hoodie, black sneakers, and a camouflage jacket on top. I took one glance at the mirror before I left and then hastened to the Tahoe train station. I wanted to open the Starbucks early to avoid this festive holiday which was always my favorite. I walked by laughing children making snowmen, bundled up parents with armfuls of presents and groups of carolers with bright red mittens and snug red beanies.

In those 15 minutes of walking to the train, “Last Christmas” rang through my ears repeatedly, and the imagery of dancing in Sean’s condo played in head. As I waited on the platform, my peripheral vision caught sight of someone familiar. I turned my head, and suddenly the music stopped. There he was, Sean Alexander. Sean who had told me after spending a year and a half together, he was much too occupied for a committed relationship and thus he broke my heart. I would see Sean every morning, mostly on weekdays, in his usual business attire. Today, he wore a white button-down shirt, paired with the blue cashmere sweater-- the sweater I had bought him last Christmas-- and a pair of pressed khakis, tan loafers, and a scarred leather jacket.

It had been a few months since I last saw Sean; a wealthy banker undoubtedly had a hectic schedule. He did a lot of charity work too, especially for foster families. The business was called Visions of Hope. Its primary duty was giving back to the community, such as food, clothing, and housing, especially during the Christmas season. He cared for children deeply as I did; in fact, we both had a hunger to have our own little ones someday.

Every morning between 7:30 and 7:40, I'd find myself staring at him, hoping he won't notice. I'd think to myself, of course he was never interested in a woman who worked at Starbucks for a living. The Starbucks where we first had met and I served him a double expresso in his own coffee cup. I've never thought I'd see him again. My look of wonder quickly turned into despair as I noticed a bouquet of red and white roses in his right hand. A beautiful woman ran into his arms. She had a heart-shaped face, full lips and a narrow chin framed by hair the color of summer wheat. Sean lifted his paramour in a full embrace with the flowers still grasped in his hand. He handed her the delicate bouquet. She closed her eyes and held them to her nose, smiling blissfully. She had a full face of makeup, a long beige wool coat, and a tight green dress underneath, along with black stockings and black stilettoes. They shared a deep kiss, and she laid her head fondly on his shoulder. Sean then gently grabbed her hand and kissed it, and I felt moisture building behind my eyelids. Suddenly, ten minutes passed, and the train approached. Backpack in hand, I turned my head away and boarded.