Part VII
Adam found me again on MySpace. He typed into his profile that he had gone to our college, and then he looked at who else on there had also, and I popped up. It took me a few seconds to register who it was that was messaging me with the moniker “Adam the First Man.” It had been a decade since we’d last talked. I had put out of my mind how much his sense of humor was about how highly he thought of himself. The message began, “Hey man,” and I knew that not much had changed over that decade. Adam was now as he was then.
He was wondering what I was up to, had heard I had moved north, and he wanted to touch base because his company was transferring him to Beaverton, and he didn’t know much about Oregon, not even how close to Portland that city was. (It’s one of our suburbs.)
I didn’t know what I thought of this sudden re-emergence. Whenever I had moved on from someplace, I always tried to make a clean break, leaving no trace, no witnesses, covering all tracks. That way no matter how much I pined for what had been, I could never go back. It worked perfectly up until then, but that’s because the past had never come looking for me before.
The first thing I did--even before replying--was check out his profile. Adam had a photo of himself. He was heavier, and his hair looked thin. He was working in computers, his favorite movie was The Greatest Game Ever Played, and the song that played while viewing his page was by Jack Johnson--and not the good Jack Johnson with Mos Def, but the vanilla one. I was wrong. He wasn’t the same. The adventurous letch I had known had obviously settled down--particularly when it came to women. Because what I really wanted to see was if he was married.
He was.
To Brianne.
She had a profile, too. She looked good in her photo. Her hair was shorter than it had been in college. If she worked, it didn’t say, but the page did tell me that her favorite movie was Amelie, and she read a lot of Russian literature. There was no song on her page, but she listed sensitive sweater-wearing bands like the Field Mice and Camera Obscura. Unlike Adam, it didn’t seem that she had changed much. Either he was the exception that proved my rule about people being static creatures, or he hadn’t yet settled into who he was while we were at school, only becoming himself after graduating.
I don’t know that I would have replied to the First Man had he not still been with Brianne, but her presence made it so I had no other option. Pretty soon, I had an appointment to meet them when they were finally in town.
The meeting took place at a steak house Adam had heard was good. I couldn’t say, I’d never been. The moment I saw Brianne again, the confirmation was complete. The years dissipated. We were almost exactly the same as we had been, and it felt to me like our hearts had changed least of all. I felt exactly the same as I always had in regards to her, and what I had gleaned from her online dossier was as true in the physical world as it was in the cyber world.
Brianne was exactly as I had remembered her: light brown hair, pale skin, the adorable ribbon of freckles. She folded her hands down by her waist and stood with her heels together. She was posed exactly as she was the day we met, a common mannerism of hers. I used to say when she stood like that she looked like a woman holding a shopping bag and waiting for a bus. Apparently, it still hadn’t come.
What had I done? Did I really agree to let her go? My mind began to race through a time lapse photo series that jumped through the life she and I could have had were we a couple. That could have been me standing next to her. I wouldn’t have gained thirty pounds, lost the hair on the back of my head, or sold out to a big corporation either. I’d be as I am, as I was, and so would she.
(read The Everlasting)
He was wondering what I was up to, had heard I had moved north, and he wanted to touch base because his company was transferring him to Beaverton, and he didn’t know much about Oregon, not even how close to Portland that city was. (It’s one of our suburbs.)
I didn’t know what I thought of this sudden re-emergence. Whenever I had moved on from someplace, I always tried to make a clean break, leaving no trace, no witnesses, covering all tracks. That way no matter how much I pined for what had been, I could never go back. It worked perfectly up until then, but that’s because the past had never come looking for me before.
The first thing I did--even before replying--was check out his profile. Adam had a photo of himself. He was heavier, and his hair looked thin. He was working in computers, his favorite movie was The Greatest Game Ever Played, and the song that played while viewing his page was by Jack Johnson--and not the good Jack Johnson with Mos Def, but the vanilla one. I was wrong. He wasn’t the same. The adventurous letch I had known had obviously settled down--particularly when it came to women. Because what I really wanted to see was if he was married.
He was.
To Brianne.
She had a profile, too. She looked good in her photo. Her hair was shorter than it had been in college. If she worked, it didn’t say, but the page did tell me that her favorite movie was Amelie, and she read a lot of Russian literature. There was no song on her page, but she listed sensitive sweater-wearing bands like the Field Mice and Camera Obscura. Unlike Adam, it didn’t seem that she had changed much. Either he was the exception that proved my rule about people being static creatures, or he hadn’t yet settled into who he was while we were at school, only becoming himself after graduating.
I don’t know that I would have replied to the First Man had he not still been with Brianne, but her presence made it so I had no other option. Pretty soon, I had an appointment to meet them when they were finally in town.
The meeting took place at a steak house Adam had heard was good. I couldn’t say, I’d never been. The moment I saw Brianne again, the confirmation was complete. The years dissipated. We were almost exactly the same as we had been, and it felt to me like our hearts had changed least of all. I felt exactly the same as I always had in regards to her, and what I had gleaned from her online dossier was as true in the physical world as it was in the cyber world.
Brianne was exactly as I had remembered her: light brown hair, pale skin, the adorable ribbon of freckles. She folded her hands down by her waist and stood with her heels together. She was posed exactly as she was the day we met, a common mannerism of hers. I used to say when she stood like that she looked like a woman holding a shopping bag and waiting for a bus. Apparently, it still hadn’t come.
What had I done? Did I really agree to let her go? My mind began to race through a time lapse photo series that jumped through the life she and I could have had were we a couple. That could have been me standing next to her. I wouldn’t have gained thirty pounds, lost the hair on the back of my head, or sold out to a big corporation either. I’d be as I am, as I was, and so would she.
(read The Everlasting)