A Painful Blast From the Past

My honeymoon with Becky in Maui was full of surprises but I couldn’t have anticipated the biggest one. It was our third day on the island, and I didn’t think we’d ever leave our honeymoon suite. We couldn’t get enough of each other. After four years of dating our passion for each other hadn’t diminished and our love just seemed to grow by the second. I couldn’t remember feeling this way before but then again, I had a lot of repressed memories. It was almost noon before we got of bed and had a light brunch. Becky had rented a paddle board, and I planned to body surf. By the time we reached the beach the surf was high. Becky insisted that she’d be safe once she paddled away from the shore. Besides, there were already several paddle boarders and wind surfers out on the water. There was safety in numbers. I felt somewhat reassured but told her I would give her forty-five minutes to an hour, before I’d alert the coast guard. She laughed. She knew how neurotic I was.

While Becky paddled out of sight, I body surfed just outside our hotel. I loved the rush and loss of control as the surf carried me into the shore. During my fourth trip out and back, I accidentally knocked a woman off her boogie board. When I surfaced and caught my breath on the shore, I sought out the woman to apologize. As she rose out of the water, I froze and my throat tightened. I was seeing a ghost from my past. It was Roxanne, the love of my life. She was older but was even more beautiful than when I last saw her ten years ago. Her thick black hair glistened with the ocean water, and her bikini showcased that amazing body. The shock on her face just accentuated those classic Polynesian features. I could only imagine what I looked like, certainly no worse than when she left me at the altar. We had dated during college and law school. I thought she was the love of my life and proposed when we graduated. Our friends thought we were the perfect couple. I thought our love was mutual and deep. During our love making, she showered me with endearments. Our passion seemed bottomless and the sex was like nothing I had experienced before or since. We shared tastes in music, books and travel. She was the first woman who accepted me for who I was, neuroses, tics and all. I loved her Polynesian background and read books about her culture. She, in turn loved my Irish heritage and planned a honeymoon in Dublin. Needless to say, we never made it there.

We considered joining law firms in San Diego or Maui when we passed the bar but decided it would be easier to stay stateside. It was all so strange. She enthusiastically accepted my marriage proposal and started making wedding plans immediately. We were both excited about the future. I did find it unusual that her family refused to come stateside for the wedding, but Roxanne assured me that we’d have two separate weddings, one in San Diego and one in Hawaii. I guess I should have seen the red flags. We never visited the islands, and I never met her parents even though my parents welcomed Roxanne with open arms. Still, as I marched down the aisle, I was unsuspecting. The pastor, my parents and all our friends and my relatives waited at least fifteen minutes for Roxanne to appear. The string quartet played Stevie Wonder’s Ribbon In The Sky over and over. I became nauseous as it dawned on me that she wasn’t going to appear. My friends and parents tried to console me. They insisted that some sort of unforeseen emergency must have been the only explanation. I thought it was strange that no one had seen her before the ceremony, but Roxanne was quirky and I wasn’t concerned.

She didn’t answer my texts or calls and I began to catastrophize. Maybe she had been in an accident or had been kidnapped. So, I rushed back to our hotel room and found a note that simply said, “I’m sorry.” When I reached our apartment her clothes and belongings were gone. I panicked and irrationally called the police. No recent accidents had been reported. When the police officer heard my story and the fact her clothes were gone, his words hit me like a slap in the face,” Bro’, you’ve been jilted. She’s a runaway bride.” “How could that be?” I wondered. We were so in love. She never gave me any indication that she was unhappy. Sure, there was the parent thing but…

I called all her friends and her parents, but no one had any idea where she was or what had happened. I suspected her parents were lying but even after several calls weeks later, they insisted they were just as worried as I was. Since the police were no help, I was about to hire a private investigator when I received a postcard from Paris France. It was brief but definitely from Roxanne. It was her handwriting.

I’m so sorry but I have to figure things out. I’m safe and sane. Don’t worry and don’t try to contact me. I’ve told my parents. Maybe one day we can talk things out. I need time.

Roxanne

Well, it had been ten years and no contact. I can’t say I didn’t try. Her parents were very cryptic each time I called and her brother and friends claimed ignorance. After a few years of therapy and soul searching, I met Becky and moved on or so I thought. My world suddenly tilted on its axis, my years of therapy went out the window. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. I stood on the shore frozen with my mouth open. Was this a ghost, a hallucination or Roxanne’s doppelganger? I had a lot to drink the night before and smoked some weed that morning. But when the specter embraced me, I knew she was real.

I pulled back and tilted my head. I was speechless. What could I say? Roxanne nodded and grimaced. She knew this was going to be hard. Finally, I managed to mumble, “ten years and unimaginable pain. Why?”

Roxanne was about to speak when Becky, who had just returned, put her arms around my shoulders and asked:

“Hi honey, who’s this?”

I thought I was going to have a seizure. Becky knew about Roxanne but not all the details. I was too ashamed to tell her about being left at the altar. Maybe I should have. Before I could say anything, Roxanne introduced herself.

“Hi, I’m Roxanne. Steve and I knew each other in another life. I haven’t seen him in years. You seem like a lovely couple. I’m glad he’s happy. Unfortunately, I can’t stay and talk. It’s nice meeting you.”

Roxanne left without saying another word, and I never saw her again. I told Becky that just how Roxanne was and there nothing further to discuss. After years of pain and mystery, I didn’t want to open old wounds. Becky wa