The Tranquil Vintessa

It had been a while since I had seen him. We grew up together, and I didn’t realize how influential he was in my life until I started going through my own valley of death and didn’t feel as protected as I thought I would be. I felt alone. It wasn’t until I did something unforgivable (by his own standards and my interpretation) that I decided it might be time to explore other options. I wasn’t, and still am not, angry with him. He had his own boundaries, and I tried my best to abide by them so he would protect and help me. But even in my darkest hour, when I reached out to him, my calls would almost always go straight to voicemail. After years of trying, I decided it was time to let him go.

I called him to meet me down by the coast; it was time to end this torment and confront him. I was scared. I didn’t know how it would go, but I was doing so well without him being an active part of my life that I knew I could weather any storm that came my way, right? As I parked my car, he was already on the beach, staring out at the ocean, his back to me. A bottle of wine in his hand, his hair disheveled as always. I walked up behind him and almost whispered, “Hello.” He turned around with a large grin. “Kim!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around me in a bear hug. He smelled like the sea, coffee, and the faintest hint of his father’s cologne. This is why it’s always hard to leave him; his warm embrace felt deceptively comforting. We hugged for a moment, and he backed away with that same gorgeous smile and charmingly crooked teeth. We walked along the shoreline for a while, catching up on all our latest adventures as the sky grew dark behind us.

We found a spot where someone had set up a fire pit and decided to stop there. We sat in silence. After a few moments of waiting for other people to show up, he began to rebuild the fire. I sat and watched him taking swigs from his bottle. I wrestled with how I should bring it up. This was such an enchanting evening; I didn’t want to ruin it, but I had come all this way for a reason. So, with a deep breath, I told him I had to leave the group. It was no longer serving me, and I had found peace elsewhere.

With the fire fully going, he stepped out from the flames, looked at me, and said, “I know you’re leaving. It’s time. It’s been time for a while.”

I looked at him, a little shocked. How long had he thought this? I lowered my eyes as he walked over to me and I handed him back his bottle. He took a large swig and then sat with me, handing me back the bottle. “It’s not my job to keep you where you don’t want to be. If you think you’d be happy elsewhere, then be free to explore that.”

For the first time in years, I felt seen by him. Why couldn’t he have been here like this for my entire life? I wondered. “Yeah,” I said, running my hands along the neck of the bottle. “And who knows? I might be back one day.”

He smiled and almost chuckled. “No, you won’t, but thanks. I’ll be here if you do, though. In an odd way, I know it didn’t seem like I was on your side while you walked that dark path, but I always knew you’d make it out. You’re strong, Kim. I know you hate being called that, but you are. Don’t be ashamed of that.”

I didn’t respond; I had nothing to say. He pulled me close in his arms, and I began to cry. I wasn’t sad; they were tears of joy and a feeling of freedom I had never experienced before. We sat like that until it got too cold, and we found a beachside motel to stay in, as we were both a bit too tipsy for the hour drive back home. We rested, and in the morning, when I awoke, I was alone. He had left me a note on the side of the bed, and all it said was, “Good luck.”

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