We were together for two years. Tim worked in software sales and traveled a lot. We lived together for the last year of our relationship until his job wanted to transfer him to a European sales position. He’d accepted it without discussing it with me, and when I refused to move with him, we ended up breaking up. The move had pushed me to make a decision I would have made eventually anyway. He was a good guy, but overall, the passion I’d longed for was missing. Even in the beginning of our relationship, there was never the adrenaline and butterflies that I’d experienced in my short time with Elec. When I accepted Tim’s proposal, I’d hoped things would change and that I’d grow to love him like he deserved. That never happened.
I’d had two other boyfriends before Tim, and it was the same situation. I’d compared my feelings for them to my crazy attraction to Elec. Even though I knew Elec was gone from my life, I couldn’t seem to help comparing everyone to him, both sexually and intellectually. Even though it may not have shown on the surface, Elec was deep. There were many layers to him, and his writing exhibited that. There was so much I never got to know or unravel. But I knew I wanted to find someone with those same qualities. One thing my time with Elec also taught me was that sexual desire and fulfillment were just as important to me as an emotional connection.
My other boyfriends were nice guys, but they were average Joes. And it was sad, but I preferred to be alone than to give myself to someone with whom there was no spark. I hoped that someday I would have real chemistry again with someone.
The Welcome to Massachusetts sign made me anxious. There was so much that was unknown about what the next few days would bring. I’d have to help my mother with funeral arrangements, and it would surely trigger flashbacks to the horrible time when we had to do the same thing for my father.
When I pulled into our driveway, Randy’s Nissan was parked on the left, and the sight of it made me shudder. I used my key to let myself in and found my mother staring blankly at a cup of tea in the kitchen with no lights on. She hadn’t even noticed me walking into the room.
“Mom?”
My mother looked up at me, her eyes red and swollen. I ran to her and embraced her.
The dirty dishes from Mom and Randy’s dinner last night were still in the sink, bringing to light what a sudden and unexpected blow this was, how life could change in an instant.
“I’m here now. I’m here. You just let me know what you need me to do. It’ll be okay. I’ll help you through it. You’ll be okay.”
She spoke into her teacup. “He just woke up in the middle of the night complaining of pains and collapsed before the paramedics got here.”
I rubbed her back. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank God you’re here, Greta.”
“Where is…you know…where is he now?”
“They took him to the funeral home. Clara is making all of the arrangements for me. She and Greg have been wonderful. I couldn’t bear to do it…not again.”
I hugged her tighter. “I know.”
That night, I slept next to my mother so that she didn’t have to be alone. It felt surreal sleeping where Randy had slept just last night, and now, he was gone.
***
The next day was a blur: people dropping off casseroles and flowers, my mother retreating to her room to cry, Victoria stopping in to pay her respects. We’d grown apart in the years since I moved, but we always made a point to see each other when I came home even if it was just for coffee.
So, when Mom took a nap late that afternoon, Victoria and I walked down to the Dunkin Donuts on the corner. It was a small piece of normal in an otherwise surreal time.
“How long can you take off work?” she asked.
“I just called them this morning. They gave me a day for bereavement then I took the rest of the week off as vacation. I may take Mom back to the city with me until she can figure things out.”
“Has anyone talked to Elec?”
Just the mention of his name had caused what felt like a knot in my stomach.
“Greg and Clara are handling contacting people. I’m sure they called him. He and Randy have been estranged according to my mother, and I’m not sure if he would even come.”
“What are you going to do if he does?”
I nervously bit into my vanilla crème donut. “What can I do?”
Victoria knew about my night with Elec. I’d told her bits and pieces but kept a lot of the specifics to myself. Some of it was too intimate to share, and I didn’t want to devalue what that experience had meant to me. Even though it was only one night, it had shaped me in many ways and set the bar for future expectations.