Lucky

I didn’t realize how lucky I am until I thought I had been cheated on.

Even on this frosty March night  in my plaid pajamas with my cup of neo-citron placed near his book titled The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs, I cannot help but giggle about it still.  I remember not so long ago, perhaps two weeks ago, wanting to rip out every page of that book in fear and hurt. I remember wanting to box everything of his that I had or anything he had ever given me and sending it back to him with a vague, pristine note on the very top of that box.  “Oh, boy” I remember thinking. I sat down on my bed, overwhelmed.

Perhaps I should explain the situation a little better?

I had just received a blackberry thanks to my parents who had  provided me with one free of cost. Some sort of Telus plan where a free blackberry could be tossed in.  Should ‘blackberry’ be italicized? Not sure. Anyways-

 I never imagined I’d have one, just as I had never imagined I’d fly first class, namely because I don’t want to. I like riding economy class, it allows me to say implicitly “I’m just like you and I’m going somewhere”. I also prefer telephone wire.  I suppose a part of me, however,  felt it would be convenient to check my e-mails at hand, thus I accepted the prospect of a blackberry. Might I mention I’ve also flown first class- by accident. Naturally, this is beside the point. I am a person of paradox. You’ll never see the end of the road when you’re with me.

 So I now own a blackberry. Installations of all sorts are required, one being my e-mail account.

I was notified about two weeks ago that I had received an e-mail from my boyfriend. I thought it was so strange considering I scarcely use this particular account installed on my blackberry. I did, however, use this particular account twice a day, every day for three-almost four- months while he was traveling Europe. This of course was almost a year ago, so I was very surprised that he had written me on this particular day for I was to see him that same evening . I truly was mystified as to what this e-mail entailed.

He writes: “I just finished reading your letter. Thank you, hun”

I was captured. I hadn’t written him a letter. What was he referring to?

“I’m sure you will bust through the workload and go home at 4, after all you said you can get a lot accomplished in a short amount of time once you get down to it. Are you gonna call at 430 still or after work?”

But I’m not currently employed. Who is he e-mailing? Did he accidentally send me an e-mail intended for someone else’s eyes?  Holy Moses…HE DID

I scrolled down in a panic. I told myself to breathe. “Just breathe.” Among telling myself to breathe, I thought of the many ways you can slap a person. There’s always the solid back-hand. I’d never try to physically hurt him. But it felt good just thinking about it. Nobody plays me like a slide guitar. Nobody.

“You are my sunshine”

But he says that to me. Just me. I began to crumble. Confidence shattered, I stared bleakly.

I could feel my hot tears ready to charge upon my cheeks, armed with anger. CHAAARRGEE! I sat on my bed and placed the “berry” down beside me. I wondered how this could have happened to me. How he could have made the mistake of sending it to me in the first place? Nonetheless, caught.

 I wondered what I was going to do. Killing him was not an option. I glanced at his book on my desk, among other things, his chocolates for one. I delved into the chocolate box, overwhelmed with streaming cheeks. Oh, the epitome. I’d pack up his things- minus the chocolates. 

I increasingly grew aware of my defence mechanism: to rid the evidence.  I would rid the evidence that he had ever entered my life, let me fall in love with him, and left me heart-broken with a box of chocolates. So, so terrible. Packing up his things would be the best thing to do. Why would I even want the  physical memory of him. Nuh-uh. “So long, baby” as Aretha would say. But I cried like any tough girl would.

I didn’t even recognize that I had received a reply to an e-mail, thus I was oblivious to the fact that he would have had to “forward” an e-mail to me, in order for me to view it if he had, in fact, “replied” to someone other than me. I started getting to work. The books he had given me I had wanted to read. “So much for that”. I started a pile.

“Who is she?”, I said out-loud.  Bitterness swirling in my mouth. I knew it really didn’t matter. She could have been a beauty queen, a cocktail waitress, or an intellectual- it didn’t matter for  I had been cheated on. It didn’t matter why for I had done nothing to invite such betrayal. I can’t imagine many people who do deserve to be betrayed. What a simply horrible thing.  I was furious. Tears still hot. Furious.

 I picked up my blackberry and scrolled, nonetheless.

I wondered who she was. Some big-shot. Yeah, some big-shot.

I scrolled to  read the e-mail she had sent him.  I disliked her already- she was kinda funny in an un-obvious way. Just his type, I thought. Sarcastic. Potentially cultured.  Punctuation could use some work.  For whatever reason, likely the fact that I was overwhelmed, I completely overlooked the fact that this “big-shot” liked the same spicy chicken meal by President’s Choice- enough to include it in a lame e-mail. I love those things. Great micro-wave food.

An affair to remember, indeed. I continued to scroll, contemplating how she signed off.  Did they love each other? I clung to the prospect that his belongings were on their way out. A nice pile by the head-board.

“Love, Cassandra”

That’s how she signed off.

It was me. It was us.

This was an e-mail from June of last year. He was in Europe and I was in Calgary. I suppose my blackberry was trying to load my e-mail history and I had received an e-mail from our relationship history. So much for the tears, and the chocolates, and the jealousy, and the hurt, and the temper. I left my room and paced the hallway outside of it. I dried my tears with my scarf  and felt my heart beat steady itself.

Moron

Needless to say, I felt like one of the world’s most unintelligent people. I could see it- front cover of People magazine, me and my sheepish smile, eyes nearly shut, sub-title reading: ” Are you smarter than Cassandra? Take the test!”

That’s just what that moment was- illogical, irrational, unintelligent. I am head over sneakers for this person. He is not capable of betrayal. Truly, there is not a bad bone in this person’s body. He corrects me when I’m wrong, he explains things to me, he refreshes my perspective on most things, he reads poetry to me, he holds my hand whenever he has the chance to… the list is infinite. This is a person who allows me to recognize the enormity of the infinite. I only knew the definite before I had met him.

Why in the world, would I imagine that betrayal could stem from such a relationship? Impossible.

Calm down. Get real.

I spent the remainder of the hour reading old e-mails from him while he was in Europe. Upon every e-mail that was listed by his name, my heart skipped a beat. Gushy, I know!  Every emotion compressed within 10 minutes, I had exhausted myself and retired to lying on my back on my bed.

I couldn’t help but think that we have such great capacities to love. We often don’t recognize what we have until it is threatened or gone. I think our capacity to love is a miracle. But we have tricked ourselves and deluded ourselves into thinking that when things are good, they are too good, and thus something is wrong or bound to go wrong.  We find reasons as to why things crumble. It is, essentially, a very threatening way to live. It is a very mindful way to live and, ultimately, a very defensive way to live.  We can hurt people like this- we can hurt ourselves, I believe.

We try to prevent things from happening, or we take responsibility for things that are evidently out of our control. We try to blame something or someone for our unhappiness. We do many things. We fix many things and we solve many things.  But we do not surrender to the “now”.  We do not recognize that it is an honor to be in love, nor do we recognize that it is an honor to have friends that we can express ourselves to. We do not recognize the honor it is to be loved and to love someone in return. We can take particular relationships for granted because we try to protect them more than we try to honor or appreciate aspects of them. It’s a motherly flaw and it’s a loving one. We try to protect what we have all the time. We try to avoid threat. We delude ourselves into thinking there is a great negative force out there  that can ruin us all if we let it. Love doesn’t stand a chance in sight of it. Such delusions.

I believe, from this experience, among others, that the only thing there is to be conscious of is love.  There is no reason to evaluate, underestimate, or be weary of love. It is simply there. It is simply present.  We hurt ourselves by rejecting love that we delude ourselves into thinking isn’t real- for whatever reason. It can happen and it does. Divorce rates are at an all time high. Over 50% are failed in North America. Delusions?  Doubts? Could be so many things beyond my 20 years of understanding. Nonetheless, I can’t help but think of what William Shakespeare once said:

“Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt”