Was That Love?

What was that? Was it love? What we had? Or was it need, lust, greed?

Four months later and I’m still thinking about her. We only knew each other for 3 months. We had met in a bar two days after I picked up and moved halfway around the world to start a new life in Canada. She was drunk, I was jet lagged.

A month earlier I had booked a one-way ticket to Toronto because I needed somewhere to live and I wanted to be somewhere else. My wife had told me she wanted a separation and I was now homeless. I figured if I was going to find a new place to live it may as well be somewhere new. Somewhere exciting. A close friend who I was working with said his mom wanted to rent out her apartment while she came to visit him in Australia. The place was old she said, but the rent was cheap and I figured I could afford it. So two days after speaking with her I bought the plane ticket.

Sitting in the bar by myself across the street from the apartment I now shared, flipping through images of other peoples lives, I look up and notice her. Her friend had gone somewhere and she sat there by herself. She looks at me and flashes a smile. A natural, big, gracious smile. Dark hair and tanned skin offsetting those beautiful white teeth. I figure I will go say hello.

What have I got to lose. I’m half way around the world, trying to start a new life. I’m living on the edge and I feel alive! I go and ask if we can chat for a bit. She says, okay but they’re leaving soon. I tell her I’m jet lagged. That I’ve just flown over from Australia and have had a crazy day. I spilt coffee on my laptop at the Starbucks across the street at 6am that morning and completely fried it (true story). I’ve spent the day running around trying to get the laptop repaired, getting a new phone plan, trying to buy a warm jacket and now I’m winding down, or up I’m not sure.

She’s interested now, she hears my accent and we get talking. Her friend comes back and asks whether she wants to go home, she says she’ll stay and have another drink. Her friend (Steph) demands to have my phone number. She’s not leaving her with a stranger. Maybe this has happened before. I give her my number (thank god I got a new one today) and she calls it to make sure it really works. It does, and now I have her friend’s number. She tells me in no uncertain terms what’s going to happen. You’re going to put her in a cab back to mine when you leave her. Well, that broke any ice that may have been left. Steph leaves and we keep talking.

Now I’m sitting next to her. I tell her I’m married but separated, that I moved to Toronto to start a new life. She tells me that she has just had a break up too, with a guy she was seeing for a year and half. She tells me she has a son, Oscar. She shows me a picture of him in a locket on her neck. He’s the apple of her eye. And what beautiful brown eyes. She tells me to kiss her and I happily comply.

We bond over our breakups. We admit that we both drink too much and that’s been a factor in the demise of our relationships. We’re both starting afresh. Maybe we can do it together. After a few more drinks, she’s drinking beer, I’m drinking martinis, I get the bill and we stumble out. Literally. She lands on her hands and knee when she trips out the door and I pick her up. She’s embarrassed and can barely stand straight. We stumble into another bar while we order a cab. We don’t order another drink or sit down. Just try to stay warm and not make eye contact with the wait staff. I put her in a cab, I already have her number. She asks me to come home with her. I decline but already know I will see her again.