Follow on Bloglovin
Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
You can also find Monica's writing here:
Search The Girl Who
« Chapter 5 | Main | Chapter 7 »
Sunday
Nov082009

Chapter 6

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He says in that deep, gravelly voice of his.
“Me neither.” My voice is shaking and my legs feel as if they’re going to betray me at any moment.
“Want to drive to Austin?” He asks.
“Yes.” I say simply.

The nine hour drive to Austin is long yet it goes by in a snap. He has abandoned his band in favor of making the drive with me, in my car. We spend the entire drive talking about everything and nothing. Smiling shyly at each other at each new discovery.

At the end of that day we pull into a hotel parking lot across the street from where the rest of the band is staying and check into a room. I will never forget those first few moments in that room. We stand there awkwardly, facing each other. Without driving and the road as a buffer we are suddenly shy. Now, there is nothing between us.

Serge steps forward and pulls me into a hug. I standing there feeling the world crash around me as I deeply inhale his smell; some kind of soap, cigarettes. I see the way the hair at his neck is slightly damp in the humidity, curling into his neck. We breathe together there, hearts pounding.

We spend three days in Austin, Texas. During the day we explore the city and people watch. At night I go to Marah shows and engage in a frenzied musical orgy, a repeat of their Salt Lake City performance, only this time with ten times the number of people in the audience.

That final sultry, summer morning we’re standing dejectedly next to my truck saying goodbye.
“There are no rules. You do what you’ve gotta do. Follow your heart. You’ll know what’s right for you. I’m not going anywhere.” I say with uncharacteristic maturity.
“I’m just so confused.” He answers.
“This is good then. You’ll have time to think. I’ll call you in a couple days.”

I am in love. Deeply, unabashedly in love. I know in my heart that I will end up with this man, whether it is now or in a year. This new feeling of certainty blossoms in my chest like a blooming rose, slowly but surely unfurling it's tender petals. I can be patient.

I drive home through beer colored wheat fields and skies the kind of blue all other blues secretly wish they could be. I am astounded at the left turn my life has taken. Two weeks ago I was bitterly disappointed, wondering it this was all life had to offer. I’d never felt matched with any of the men I’d ever dated. Nobody had every really understood me, nor had they tried. In one night Serge got me better than anyone on the planet ever had. I've never believed in love at first sight, chalking it up to the stuff of movies, a director's wet dream dream, a writer's fantasy. I hate romantic comedies, always feeling like I am buying into some false notion of reality.

But it happened to me.

Still. There is the sometimes girlfriend in London.

Monday August 23, 2004

Dear Serge,

Hello! How are you? I figure you rarely check the email, so, despite the fact that I want to type your way at least every hour of the day, I try to keep myself in check so you don't have miles to wade through when you finally get around to logging on. It's hard to know just what to say to you...because I want to say so much, but I also know that you're a bit confused and I don't want to overwhelm you. I will say this: I have never met anyone like you. If I could give someone specific instructions on the type of person I'd like to end up with in life - you would be the end result.

Perhaps I'm being dramatic, because it seems as if I barely know you...but I feel like I do know you in the ways that matter.. You mentioned on the phone that you are "fucked up". So???? Aren't we all??? At least you cop to it. Most folks spend most of their waking hours trying to cover up their fucked -upness. You said you're broke...like it matters to me. I grew up on welfare...seriously, powdered milk and grandma's canned peaches for many meals. So I spent most of my twenties working my ass off, because I was terrified of being poor. The end result? A couple of nice couches, TV's and a truck.. Big fucking deal.

I am not afraid to care about you even though I could end up on the losing end. Because you have changed the way I feel about life...You have said things to me no one has ever said before. You saw in one night, what no one has ever cared to see. Sure, I get asked out and all that...but mostly by guys who see me and think I fit some sort of blue-eyed, blonde profile. They don't see the real me. I am reading "Great Expectations" because you love it...and I came across a paragraph describing Pip's feelings the first time he meets Estella. It so perfectly suits how I feel about the night I met you that I'm gonna type it here:

"This was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But, it is the same way with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day."

That is exactly how I feel.. We were supposed to meet. So if it works out with us, it will be amazing, if not - you have inspired so much inside of me, and I will remember you forever.

Monica: On a rainy Monday morning in SLC


To be continued...

Reader Comments (5)

I am loving your love story. Found you via the dooce community, and am really enjoying your writing.

November 10, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterlindsayc

Found your site via Dooce's tweets. Love this story, just wish the chapters would appear more quickly... :)

November 11, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAllie

I also found you through Dooce, dying to hear the rest of the story!

November 12, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterJB

Yep, I'm now sucked in, too. It's been eight days since you last wrote a chapter...waiting with bated breath. lol

November 16, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterRachael

Follower also through Dooce.
MORE PLEASE!

November 17, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterTami A.

PostPost a New Comment

Enter your information below to add a new comment.

My response is on my own website »
Author Email (optional):
Author URL (optional):
Post:
 
Some HTML allowed: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <code> <em> <i> <strike> <strong>