It was a little less than a month after our last phone call that I saw Jackson again. It was Jill’s Birthday, she was turning 29 and she was throwing herself a big bash. Despite our very different lives Jill and I remained very good friends. I had never confided in her about Jackson but I am sure she suspected that he had been the reason I had left photography class.
I loved having Jill as a friend. Partly because she was fabulous, partly because I loved living vicariously through her doing the things I never did at her age because I was already married with kids, and partly because she was a secret. Joel didn’t even know she existed and neither did my “mom friends”. Jill and I never talked about carpool or playdates or playground gossip. She had never been to my house or seen my kids and she knew me only as Lyla her friend not the strange and distant version of myself I had become.
So, when Joel announced he would be away on business for the week of Jill’s Birthday I arranged for my nanny to stay, booked a hotel closer to Jill’s house and decided to make it a few days just for me. I told myself I needed some time on my own to let loose and have fun.
I didn’t ask if Jackson would be at the party. I was too afraid. I was afraid of the disappointment if he wasn’t going to be there, but more than that, I was afraid I would chicken out if he was. I knew I wanted to see him but I also knew I shouldn’t.
On the day of the party I had set out the schedule for my nanny, kissed my kids goodbye and checked into the hotel. I had told Joel I was going to do some shopping, go to the spa, and just relax for a few days. He had been telling me I needed a little “me time” for a while after reading something in a magazine. It was not a hard sell.
You are probably wondering what I thought about leading up to the party. Was I nervous? Did I feel guilty or second guess myself? Did I question the lies and betrayal and what they really meant? I did not. I watched a movie, took a nap, ordered room service and had a long soak in the tub while sipping wine and listening to music. I did not let myself think beyond that moment.
When I arrived at Jill’s the party was already well underway. I walked in and immediately felt that I was, by far, the oldest person in the room. I have no idea if I actually was but everyone seemed so youthful and stylish and interesting and I was “Lyla the stay-at-home-mom of two”. The music was loud and people were laughing. I started back toward the door silently chastising myself, “who do you think you are?”
“Hey Lyla!”
And sitting there, legs intertwined, were Chris and Marina from photography class.
“How are you?”
Big hugs, a drink in my hand, a bunch of laughs and I began to feel OK. Chris and Marina asked me how my photography was going, we talked about current affairs, our favourite music and the latest pop princess’ fall from grace. Neither of them asked me about my kids or my husband or his work or my latest personal trainer. They weren’t interested in that, they wanted to know what I, Lyla, thought and who I was. It had been years since I felt that my opinion mattered or that I was anything other than a mother and wife. It was exhilarating.
As the evening went on I found myself completely engrossed in conversations. All of these amazing people with amazing lives and stories. It was like a drug and I couldn’t get enough. Jill introduced me to her friend, a government lobbyist, who spent her life advocating with a passion. And another, a professional photographer, who had traveled the world for his craft. And others who spoke passionately about their work and their dreams and their lives. I was in awe.
It was around 1am that I found my way back to Chris and Marina, still enfolded in each other exactly where I had left them hours before. But this time, there was a small group surrounding them. As I approached I felt a familiar tingling run up my spine. He was sitting with his back to me and I recognized the outline of his shoulders, the curve of his neck, and the little wisp of hair over his ears.
Everything around me slowed down. I heard nothing and saw nothing except him. I stood still, staring, watching him move. And then Marina looked up and waved.
“Lyla! Lyla! Remember Jackson? From class?”
I saw his body freeze. And then he turned to look at me. I thought my heart was going to leap out of my body it was beating so quickly. I began stumbling over my words as he got up from the floor.
“Yes!” I shouted with uncomfortable enthusiasm. “Um, yes. Well, of course. How are you?”
And at that moment he was in front of me. Marina was absorbed once again in the group conversation. And, to my shock, no one in the room seemed at all aware of the energy emanating from the two of us as we stood there.
And then he took one step closer. He enveloped me in his arms. I lifted my arms around him, taking in his familiar sent. He whispered in my ear.
“Hi.” He said almost imperceptibly.
“Hi.” I whispered back.
