I'd never heard his name and knew nothing of him hours before - but the first day we met, that night we had our first phone conversation, I knew that Ambrose had come to bring me something special. I had a vision of my soul having had that date marked on the calendar, circled in red, laced with hand-drawn stars and exclamation points since even before this body took its first breath. All human interactions are a holy matter, to my mind. Everything from a seemingly random interaction with a cashier, to a stranger that holds open for you a door, to your meeting the person you give the title, "soulmate." They're all special; all are divinely timed. But there's something magical about finding someone to be in relationship with. All that potential for adventure! That opportunity for fun! Mad love, it did something to me.
Stepping off the bus and gathering my bags, I can't say that I felt no fear, but it was more of a giddy anticipation. It was as if a special reunion was at hand and I just couldn't wait to be with this soul again after "so much time." When I first saw him across that bus station, my heart was singing - Its voice reverberating inside me. I was awestruck by his beauty. I couldn't get over how handsome he was, how familiar. We made our way to his car; before getting in we embraced, we kissed, and I felt so...at home, so right where I needed to be. That drive to his house was amazing. We were both running on adrenaline, both so caught up in the surrealism of it all, both unable to stop looking at or touching each other - which was pretty much the state of things that afternoon as we hung out at his house.
I listened intently as he led me around inside his country home. Shown family pictures, artwork, pieces of furniture, the seedlings sitting in the window light. I tried to soak it all in, thrilled just being in his presence. I was hungry for every bit of information that he'd share, hoping each would help me know this incredible creature even better - what had led him to become the man he was, what had led him there to that moment in time with me. Sitting on his couch, inwardly floating, we made out, we laughed, we shared stories, and continued getting to know each other. If he hadn't had to work third-shift, we probably could have stayed there like that for hours upon hours more.
He went in to work and I was left alone for the night. I cautiously unpacked, made myself at home, still not entirely believing that I was there, that he was real. I left him a line of magnetic poetry to find on his refrigerator. I smelled his hand soap. I breathed in the quiet and thanked the Universe for my beautiful fortune. I tried my best to stay up as long as I could to adapt my schedule, so as to get as much time with Ambrose as I could before he came home and needed sleep, but wound up crashing on the couch, exhausted and content.
The next morning was just as lovely for me as the previous afternoon had been. We had breakfast together on his make-shift coffee table. I laughed my ass off while we watched a couple of female comics perform on Netflix. I was having a good time...until I wasn't anymore. I don't remember what we were talking about; it was something about our mutual love of Maya Angelou, when all of a sudden I hear Ambrose speaking the words, "I have something on my mind..."
What the "something on his mind" boils down to is that he wanted me to leave. Even after asking for specifics, I'm still not clear on what inspired his change of heart. I was pretty in shock; I felt like I'd been punched. I couldn't make sense of his explanation or decipher if he even had one. He wasn't rude about any of it. He was very polite, matter of fact, honest. I had thought that we were having a great time. I'd thought that he was as happy that I was there as I was being there. But once I wrapped my mind around the fact that he wasn't kidding, that I hadn't misunderstood, and that my trip was coming to an end, I silently gathered my stuff, and went out on the front porch without a goodbye and waited for the taxi that he'd called for me to take me back to Greyhound.
I sat on his front steps in the cold wind and waited for the cab to rescue me from the scene of what felt like a grisly attack. I was so pissed off, so disappointed, so confused, so humiliated; my heart felt like it was breaking. I cursed myself for crying lest he see or hear the effect he'd had on me...but I couldn't help it; they came and had their way with me.
In the midst of my tears, I sat staring at the blue carpeted steps beneath me and I remembered Caroline Myss telling of her favorite prayer by St. Teresa of Avila, one I've taken as my own. I said, "Hover over me, God. Hover over me." And it wasn't a matter of seconds before Acceptance came and put her arms safely around me. Reality doesn't ask for our permission. Life doesn't ask for our input. God does what God does. I realized quickly that, like it or not, understood or not, this love affair that I'd imagined unfolding had just come to an end. Byron Katie's voice told me, "You've been spared." I closed my eyes and felt the wind. I came to my senses. I saw that despite the hurt and disappointment, there is a divine order taking place, and that if I'd just go with it, I'd be okay. Being reminded that something higher was in effect, something nourishing and beneficial to both our souls, brought me incredible relief, and quickly - as Truth tends to do. Knowing what I knew, seeing this bizarre trip and this un-sturdy ghost of a man in a brighter, more balanced light, I couldn't just leave without a word spoken.
So I stood up, climbed back up the stairs, and went back inside...