A Change of Heart

I met a man last night. Well, met is a strong word because I've met him before. Let's say I ran into an old acquaintance. It was like a scene out of a movie. Not a big budget blockbuster- more like an indie project, with an A or B list actor playing director for the first time. Let's walk you through it.

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The setting wasn't all that special. It was a small, gritty, wharf bar- only a place a native would go. Off the beaten path, it was a personal sanctuary of sorts. There were vintage maps of the town along the wall. A keg storage in plain view, just beyond the main seating area. The decor boasted of wood, leather, and glass- with candles and lanterns strategically placed throughout. There's one, single coffee table that housed menus beneath the glass, and a leather couch to lounge on propped against one wall. The rest of the seating area was made up of actual, large barrels holding up the round, wooden tables the patrons sat at. A pool table and digital jukebox sat in the rear, right in view of the keg storage. And the bar, made of oak, stood before a beautifully lit mirrored shelf; storage for it's house brewed, signature spirits and other name brand bottles of liquor.

Before I could feel the heat of his presence next to me, I caught sight of his blue eyes in that tall mirror. I immediately cast my eyes downward to the tumbler at my fingertips, slowly twirling the glass housing my honey and bourbon. When the man sat next to me, a whiff of his aftershave tickled my nose. He smelled incredible, like cedar, smoky wood, and man. I didn’t dare look to my left as he ordered a scotch neat. He didn't seem to care that there were several other empty stools lining the bar.

By the time his drink arrived, I was through with mine. Before I could open my mouth, he ordered me another honey and bourbon. Right before I could accuse him of being way too assuming, he did something I didn't see coming. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a single penny, and placed it on the bar.

"Before you call me a self-assured, arrogant misogynist ripe for cancel culture, let me be clear. Yes, I made an assumption that you want another drink. No, I am not trying to get you drunk to make you you more susceptible to my advances. Yes, I find you to be breath takingly beautiful. No, I don't feel like I'm entitled to anything with the purchase of a drink- you are free to talk to me or not, if you so choose. So, may I please have your consent to sit here and have a conversation with you?" With that, he slid the penny over to me with a well manicured finger and took a drink of his scotch.

I stared at the copper coin for a moment. It was shiny and sported the year 1986 next to Honest Abe's head. I smiled before responding.

"Only if you can tell me a completely true story about you. It can be good, bad, embarrassing- but it has to be genuine." I slid the penny back over to my left, nodding my appreciation to the bartender as he placed my fresh drink in front of me.

"I cheated on my fiancé. I wouldn't call it good, bad, or embarrassing. It's simply what happened. She was cheating on me at the time, but I had no knowledge of it. Not at the beginning, at least. It was no fault of hers, though. She didn't drive me away. She didn't change overnight. She wasn't trying to intentionally hurt me, nor I her. And though I couldn't tell you the date I found out she was sleeping with someone else... I remember the exact moment I fell out of love."

He had my undivided attention at this point. I didn’t interrupt him as he began to weave a tale of such inspired treachery it could've been a scripted series on Netflix. How for months, while he lived with this woman, worked with her, and effectively built a life with her, it was built on a foundation of sand instead of bedrock. Her grandfather built the company they both worked for. Long days and longer nights spent together in the trenches bonded them. Shared laughs over mediocre interests sparked an attraction. Little by little they grew together in employment and time spent to where it was natural decision to date. And their lovely, vanilla lives meshed well with their schedules, so they moved in together.

At some point, his career advanced further and faster than hers. More often than not, she became an afterthought during long workdays, and an ornament on his arm at night. One day, she caught the eye of someone else. He was a local entrepreneur with less of an overwrought schedule. Someone who saw his fiancée in a way he never quite did. And while she never complained, she did grow distant. And when he noticed her unspoken discontentment, he misconstrued the reason. So he did what he felt was noble and proposed. The proposal, however, was a band-aid at best. That realization came later, when he stumbled upon an overheard conversation with an emotional undertone. And when confronted, his fiancée blamed it on relationship issues between an estranged relative and a mutual friend. The estranged relative turned out to be a half sister he had never met and she barely ever mentioned. This was an interesting twist for him.

"When she told me she was coaching her half sister through a rough spot with her boyfriend, I wanted to believe her. I did believe her. And then, I met her sister. And her sister confirmed this ridiculous narrative- that my fiancée's expertise in matters of the heart were key to her pending, romantic bliss. I only call it a ridiculous narrative because I knew in my heart ... my fiancée was barely key to my own romantic bliss. And I lived with her. My love for her was true, but even then I knew it felt very rote. I was used to it, not consumed by it."

"Trying to ignore the new feelings welling up inside me proved to be an exercise in futility. The very first time I looked into her sister's eyes, I was transported. I don't believe in déjà vu but I felt like I knew this woman in a past life. It was like ... defying space, time, and circumstance to stand in front of the face that launched a thousand ships. But it wasn't mere surface beauty. She was kind, loyal, wise, humble, and then beautiful."

"Love at first sight. It's a fickle concept that feels disingenuous and shallow. But I can't deny the instantaneous bond I felt, that made me irrationally jealous of everyone who got to experience her. At first, I tried to fight it. Then, I used her to try and draw out qualities I wished my fiancée possessed. When that backfired, I had to admit to myself what I was feeling."

"I felt betrayed that I met the wrong sister at the right time and vice versa. I made up reasons to be around her, trying to drive my fiancée permanently into the arms of the other man in her life. I played dumb so I wouldn't feel the guilt of my own emotional affair. Eventually the other man caught on, my fiancée caught on, and it all came to a head one, fateful, night."

"We all wound up at a fancy party together- a bad double date of sorts. My fiancée and her sister had tension brewing between them. It turned out that her sister's fake relationship had taken quite the turn. The man who she was pretending to date professed real feelings for her. My fiancée was furious, as she was losing the affection of both men she'd been sleeping with. The sisters got into an ugly argument that left them estranged again. The whole sordid affair was outed. That drove this woman outside to be alone. I couldn't help but follow her out to the balcony."

"The view of downtown from our perch would have been spectacular under different circumstances. She was a vision underneath the twinkling lights of stars and a full moon. Her big, beautiful eyes were full of tears of sadness, guilt and regret. But there was something else there. It was relief. She'd been under an enormous amount of pressure, carrying all of our secrets. Trying her damndest to support her sister, her fake boyfriend/real friend, and me. She felt like she betrayed her sister's loyalty. She felt like she broke her friend's heart. And her guilt over lying to me was eating away at her."

"Thinking to end her suffering, I admitted to knowing for quite some time. I admitted my feelings to her. I admitted that I'd been orchestrating time with her, because in my heart of hearts ... I knew she was the one for me. And there, underneath the moonlight, I kissed her." He paused for a moment to take a sip of his drink before finishing. "Of course, she slapped the shit out of me and walked away."

"When I say I cheated on my fiancée, I'm not referring to that kiss. I'm referring to that fall morning, October 2, 2019 at 8:02 am when I surrendered my mind, heart, and soul to my fiancée's sister with one look. My only regret was not going after her that night. The timing wasn't right for then, but she should know she's had my heart every day since."

The blue eyed man smiled crookedly and polished off his drink. He asked to close out his tab as I sat silently, staring at the ice cube melting in my otherwise empty glass. Then, he slid the penny back into my line of sight. I smiled sadly; his story had delivered. And I didn't have a direct response to his confession. And so, I posed a question instead.

"May I buy the next round and tell you a story of my own? Only if you're interested. Your tab is closed and I wouldn't force my company on anyone. But your vulnerability is very attractive and I'm just tipsy enough to be a little assertive." With that, I slid the penny back to him and waited. He hesitated only a moment, but slid it back to me.

"I like assertive. It looks good on you."

I ordered our drinks and waited for them to be served before I began spinning my own fable. He listened attentively as I told him about my first, true love. It was a story of friendship, love, and loss.

I told him of childhood friends who lost touch in grade school when one moved away. Then, one of the friends (a then teenaged girl) moved to New York to pursue her dreams of higher learning. Her parents had died, but an inheritance and a stellar academic record allowed her to do so. She spent a year finding her footing in the big city alone, taking classes at NYU during the day, and waiting tables in Harlem at night. One night, she ran into a familiar face at work and realized it was the boy she'd once left behind when her mom moved her out of state.

They were fast friends again, seemingly able to pick up where they left off in her youth. He pursued music while she pursued writing. They shared a deep understanding and respect of each other’s gifts. And their love blossomed over greasy food and the magic of each other’s words.

For a couple of years they pushed each other to hit benchmarks on their respective career paths. She spent long nights in studios helping him put out mixtapes. He supported her film writing and directing, pushing her beyond her comfort zone to create dazzling presentations and content. And the closer she got to her degree, the bigger his name grew in the community. At some point, their paths began leading them away from each other. He started touring. She took on internships that had her running in film industry circles.

"When we began fighting over silly things that were out of our control, I knew we were drifting. He'd blame me for not supporting him when I had to miss performances. I'd accuse him of not caring about my desire to grow as a writer and industry executive. He'd tell me I equivocated my self worth with a piece of paper that I didn't need to make art. I told him that may be true for hip hop artists, but women of color had a completely separate set of obstacles to overcome. Especially when it came to being taken seriously as executives in any major industry, especially film."

"We were unhappy and stressed, so we purposely took it put on each other. We would go months and not touch each other. And then, he'd show up at work and surprise me with flowers. Or I'd spend the night in the studio with him, singing in his ear and freestyling love poems. And we'd be ... us again. It worked until it didn't. Very aggressive groupies would constantly come around, making my life challenging. He would get crazy jealous if I came into contact with a celebrity and it had made it's way onto social media. All unavoidable work woes."

"My senior year, I got offered a fellowship in LA. I was so excited to go. But I also found out two very crucial things that same week. One, he had cheated on me. And no, it wasn't an emotional affair and a kiss. It was quite an extensive and carnal affair. And two, I was pregnant. So, I confronted him and he owned up to his part in the cheating. I was hurt, but at least he hadn't lied. So, I thought it through, prayed on it. And then, I decided I would take the fellowship, have my child, and figure out co-parenting. He did not like this plan, calling me everything but a child of God. He just knew that my decision making was based on the fact that he may not be the father of my child. Which was ridiculous because I didn’t sleep around."

I stopped my story for a moment so I could take a few sips of my drink. His very intense stare should've been unsettling, but it wasn’t. Not only was he listening to every word I said, he was seeing me for who I was. His eyes held an unspoken understanding that caressed me in waves. It made me brave enough to finish the story.

I told him about the fights we had, the unkind things we said to each other. I told him about how I was so physically ill and mentally drained that I finally agreed to that farce of a paternity test being demanded of me. I told him how I set the appointment in tears, and God matched my mood the day we were scheduled to receive the results- it stormed the entire day. I didn't even hesitate when I got to the part about that man, the man I loved, ignoring every text and phone call up until I had to leave for the doctor's office. As I exited my building in that pouring rain, by myself, and stepped up to the curb to hail a cab- I heard this unearthly crash. I didn’t even have time to react as the bus plowed into the back of the cab that had jutted in it's path in a rush to get my fare.

"I couldn't tell you how painful it may have been when I hit the windshield of that car. I couldn't tell you how long I was unconscious, if it wasn't for the court transcripts that housed every single time stamp for what transpired that day and the following 8 months of my life. There wasn't any physical pain associated with my then broken and empty body. Just ... suspended existence, doctors, lawyers ... and him."

I tried to find the words to express the love that came after that horrendous experience; how it was was on another plane. He leveled up for me. He restored me mentally, physically, and even spiritually. He prayed for me. He prayed with me. He grew a whole new appreciation for me. He became my diary, and I, his muse. He wrote songs about the tears he shed for me ... and our unborn daughter. He was my hands, penning the words I lived and narrated until I could do for myself again. He worked it out so I still had a fellowship to go to when I was back in fighting form. He loved me past our shared pain.

I paused for a moment to polish off my drink. My audience was only halfway through his, still hanging on my every word.

"I thought I knew pain and suffering. I'd lost my only blood family. I lost myself in a relationship where I wound up cheated on. I lost a child. I lost control of my body. I was scared of losing a career before it could take off. But I had him and he proved he had me."

"We were all set to go to LA together, where he'd work on his next album and I'd be working at a studio. We were packed and ready for the next chapter of our lives. Until, I got the last call I ever thought I'd receive."

"When I was called to the local precinct to identify his body .... it was a waking nightmare. That same numbness, that suspended existence, kept me in a bubble of disbelief the entire time. But the pain? It didn't hit me until a nameless officer handed me an evidence bag with a black, velour box in it. And that pain never fully went away. At best, it dulled to an ache. I swore I'd never fall for anyone again. I'd been blessed to be loved until death did us part. One was all I got in this life, or so I believed. I spent the next five years working on my career and building a publishing business from the ground up."

"When I moved here two years ago, I hadn’t been in touch with my half sister for years. We'd missed out on so much. And when she asked for my help- to hide her duplicity from her fiancé? I didn't want to do it. But when I met her boyfriend, and subsequently her fiancé, I understood her difficult choice. How could you choose between such great guys? I'd already had my great love; who was I to deny my sister her path to hers? It wasn't my place to judge the mistakes she might have made along the way. So, I did it out of loyalty to my sister. And then I did it because... somewhere between getting to know them all, that dull ache began to ease. I wasn't alone anymore. I had family again. I had friends again."

"But over time, my sister's boyfriend fell for me. It broke my heart to break his, because our friendship was true. How could I tell him that somewhere along the way, I had fallen for my sister's fiancé? How could I look my sister in the eye and tell her that I was ruining both of her relationships, when I hadn't wanted to be involved in either at first? That felt like the biggest betrayal of all. Suddenly, I was at risk of losing everyone in my life again. My fake boyfriend and real friend. My only sister. And the man who made me believe I could finally fall in love again. So, I had to walk away. I had to work on myself before I could make amends with anyone else."

I looked over at the handsome guy to my left and smiled softly. He'd finished his drink, his hands folded in front of him. The look of anger I was expecting wasn't there. It was ... empathy and compassion. The realization sent the tears that were filling my eyes rolling down my cheeks. Then, totally of his own volition, he did two things. One, he tenderly kissed my cheek. Two, he picked up the copper penny and stared down at it.

"I can't promise a life free from pain or regret. I can't predict what kind of future lie in store. But I want to plan for complete honesty, genuine laughter, and a chance to love past any residual pain and any to come. I used to be fine with settling for perfect on paper. Now, I just want perfect for me. I'm willing to work for it."

He placed the coin back down on the bar, turned around, and walked away. I picked it up and stared at it for a while. I thought about how the penny was such an early piece of currency and how much it's value has depreciated. It was sad in a way, for its value was a far cry from 1/100th of a single dollar. In fact, it could be priceless under the right circumstances. I settled up and left a generous tip for the bartender. After sending a quick text, I got a Lyft and went home alone.

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"Ms. James, you have both disclosed an awful lot in this session. And the fact that you've allowed Mr. Campbell to join us, is a sign that there is something worth fighting for here. But this is the first step of many. You've survived a crucible. And then you came to meet in a most unconventional way; most couples' origin story is not what yours is."

"I understand you and your sister have come to terms and she's given you her blessing to do what's right for you. Navigating your new normal will take time and effort. I need to know that you're both ready and willing to commit to this journey."

He looked at me, his eyes full of warmth and my heartbeat quickened. He took my left hand in his and raised it to his deliciously pink lips, and placed upon it a kiss. I was ready to be consumed by love again. No more lies. No suspended existence. Sweet, imperfect, flawed, rich, beautifully disastrous life lie ahead. Hopefully, with him.

I reached out in front of us and placed a small, copper coin on the table between us and the therapist. It was the same 1986 penny we'd been passing back and forth since our first real conversation. Same bar, different conversation. But that lame joke was as much a part of our history, as it was to be a part our future. True to form, he pushed the coin across the table towards our therapist.

"We are committed to seeing this through. So, what's our next step, Doctor? Penny for your thoughts?"