The Last Time

One.

There is this saying: never be the smartest person in the room. I've lived by that for as long as I could remember. Seeking solace in those that could provide my aching soul wisdom. I don't know who first said. For all I know, it could be Ghandi or Martin Luther King Jr. What I did know is that it was my dad's favorite go-to piece of advice.

Well, that and never go out past midnight.

"I got pulled over for speeding last night," I'd divulge.

"Shouldn't have gone out past midnight," he'd say.

He was the wisest man I knew. Well, still know. He's not dead or anything, just your typical hardworking father. When I was growing up, he was continuously working long hours. He could be building airplanes about twenty minutes down the road. Or building computers with one of his friends as a side business. He was a man of money and brains.

I hadn't been able to see or hear his voice for the preceding months. Our schedules are opposite times of the day. We could barely miss each other, and the other person will have already moved on. My mother had called plenty of times, but I'd usually be sleeping. When I would wake up, I would shoot her a text and get no reply for days. It wasn't like we weren't close. We definitely were. I had spent my entire childhood having them by my side. 

But for the better part of a year, I had been on my own. Discovering the world like a mid-twenty year old should. I finally had my own apartment, a long-term boyfriend, and a decent paying job. So, when the holiday season came peeking around the corner. I was ready for a visit back home.

That's why I was on the plane, ready to fly into the sky with a glass of wine. It was peaceful to say the least. It was the first time I had been alone in months. My boyfriend, Charles, was at home finishing tying loose ends up at work. He wouldn't be able to come down until a few more days, his job being the only thing he devotes his time to. I didn't mind, really. It gave me the time to settle in and get used to my family being in my business, like they had so many times before.

Except this time, I'd have to prepare them for Charles.

They didn't know too much about my new beau. And I preferred it that way. They were far too involved in my last relationship. Of course, they had to be. I was a teenager madly in love with a parent's worst nightmare. My heart was broken too many times for any of us to count. However, this time I was in love with a mature and well-mannered adult. He had his quirks, sure.

The apartment was always clean and organized, beyond organized. Everything had labels and designated places where they belonged. He had a routine for everything: morning, afternoon and evening. It was a lot, and a little bit too much to explain in one go. But I knew better. I could ease them in and use his natural charm to win their hearts. It was simple. 

"Please, buckle into your seats. The captain is ready for take off," the stewardess' voice chimed through the intercom. I let a small sigh escape my lips as I let my fingers loop onto my buckled seat belt. The belt had been secured for over five minutes as I was more than ready for lift off. My lone window seat would soon become the most sacred seat in the world. 

I felt the engine rumble to life beneath my feet. My eye lids screwed shut as my finger nails dug into the fabric of the belt. You'd think this was my first time flying... no, I'm just terrified of heights. And the Xanax has not kicked in yet. I sunk into my seat as I felt gravity take over, the wheels picking up off of the ground with a sudden jolt. My body shook in the seat, the power of the engine taking over my body movements. I let out a sigh of relief as I felt the plane glide into a smooth and steady pace. 

Finally, I thought to myself. My hands unwrapped from the belt and slid across my thighs. The sweat soaking into my jeans. I peered out of the window, staring into the white clouds as she flew through the air. I didn't like heights but the sight and feeling of being in the clouds was the most unique experience. 

I felt on top of the world. Nothing I have found has given me that sense of euphoria. Not my friends or family. Not even Charles. The only person who came close... was him. The one and only, Jude Nelson. The first boy I ever loved, the first heart break. First everything. 

Being with him felt like the kind of love you read in romance novels. 

We had playlists, hand written notes, and photos to last a lifetime. We had it all. Until we didn't. My world came crashing down after nine solid, endlessly happy months. I was too high in the clouds, sky diving without a parachute, plummeting to my impending doom. The sound of my heart breaking still echoes in my mind to this day. As if it was a siren, warning me of what hurt the most. 

I didn't leave for another two years. Hopelessly in love with a boy I could only devote my time and efforts to. Only to receive the classic excuses of fragile masculinity. I was the butt end of every joke he kept secret with his friends. It was torture... but I endured. 

It's been five years since and I don't ever want to look back. I just hope he's not visiting family this year...