A Great Big Love

by Alona Jarden

  "You're talking shit, Mom."

  "Language, boy! You never were able to listen to opinions that didn't match yours, but this time, if that's what she said, I think you should listen to her."

  "And if she says that only because she's driven by fear? What if she's wrong to think that we could only—"

  "Don, do you remember what I always used to say? If you truly believe she’s your great love, let her go."

  "And if it's meant to happen between us, she'll come back to me, right?"

  "Exactly. If what made you declare that you love her after two days is true and strong, she'll come back to you, and it will be bigger than ever."

  My spirits fell as I remembered the last time I took my mother's advice. For years I avoided sharing what happened that time with her for fear of hurting her feelings.

  "I really appreciate your opinion, Mom."

  "I thought you did, once, but in recent years, you seem to want to hear my opinion just to do the opposite."

  "I did just as you advised my whole life. Even when you weren't next to me, I could hear you in my head giving me that exact advice, and I followed it."

  "If so, you did right. It's an accurate statement about knowing when love is real or not."

  "Did it ever occur to you that it is only true in some cases? Did you ever think that sometimes, you have no idea what is going on in the minds of others or in their hearts?" A firm and disappointed tone came out of my mouth.

  "Where did all this anger come from, Don?"

  "From the memory of the last time I did as you advised and sent a great love away from me wholeheartedly, without her coming back."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about the last words I said to Sarah before she was taken to the operating room."

  "What? What did you tell her?"

  "I never told you this, Mom, but this saying of yours was the last thing I ever said to my wife. She wanted me to go into the operating room with her, and I thought it would be better to listen to the advice of the doctors who recommended against it."

  "I..." She paused and didn’t continue.

  "I told her that saying, and those were the last words I exchanged with my great big love. The love I let go, and the one that never came back to me."

  "I didn't know that, Don. You never told me."

  "Well, I'll tell you something else I never shared before. Since then, I've been thinking a lot about that saying. To tell you the truth, I'm not at all sure these words are true or valid in reality."

  "Hearing what you just told me, I can see how you can interpret their meaning differently, but what happened with Sarah and what you're going through with Michelle is completely different."

  "It's not. It's exactly the same, Mom. I think the words you so admire were written by a cowardly man who didn't dare say his feelings out loud."

  "Did you just call Sting a coward?"

  "I called you a coward, Mom. All my life, you advised me to restrain, understand, and let things slide, but what about advising me to fight, argue, stand up for what I believe is supposed to be mine? How about teaching me not to take 'no' as an answer?"

  "All these are not valid advice when it comes to courting a woman, Don."

  "Says who?"

  "The law? The police?"

  "Now you're calling your own son a stalker?"

  "Be reasonable for a second. How would you define yourself?"

  "I would say that I'm on the path to a healthy lifestyle."

  "But are you really? Is having such powerful feelings, after two days, for someone who claims she's not ready for a romantic relationship, that healthy? Does chasing a girl who's asking you to back off feel like a healthy thing to do?"

  "I've been feeling healthier in the past two days than I've felt in the past three years. I left home without thinking about how hard it was going to be returning to it. I'm able to look around without seeing only what I've lost, and at night, I dream about something other than a baby I never got to hug and a woman I'll never lay my head on again."

  "What did you dream about for the past two days? Michelle?"

  "Yes. I've had many dreams about her and would love to detail some of them for you, although I feel the need to warn you that in my dreams, she is very free with her sexuality."

  "In that case, honey, fight for her. Stand up for what you feel is right and make sure you don't miss out on this great big love of yours."

  "Wow." I didn't understand how she got so easily convinced. "You came around quickly. Did I ever tell you that you have no backbone?"

  "Did I ever tell you that I love you?" She pulled out her comeback in mere seconds, and we kept talking, only about easier and simpler topics after that.

  A few minutes later, I hung up with her and was very excited. For years I refused to accept her advice, but it may have been so because she refused to change her point of view. On that call, she finally understood I was no longer the Don she once knew. Maybe it wasn’t me that didn’t take her advice after all. Maybe it was her advice that was no longer right for me.

  That call made me think about Michelle's determination. Though she conditioned my place beside her with me sticking to her new path, I actually felt that with or without her demands, it was the right time for me to walk that healthy path and stick to it.

  "I swear to God, Don, if you keep popping out and surprising me like that in different places of my daily routine, I'll issue a restraining order against you." Michelle quickly expressed her puzzlement when she saw me waiting outside the morning weight loss support group meeting.

  "What we have is stronger than the law, Michelle. We both know that a restraining order will only draw me closer to you."

  "Then I'll ask my routine question. What are you doing here, Don?"

  "You owe me breakfast, and I'm hungry." I sent her a silly smile.

  "I meant what I said last night. You really are lovely, but you have to let me go."

  "Do I? Do I have to?"

  "Yes. You must. If I'm as important to you as you claim, you'll respect my wishes and accept the fact that I can't—"

  "Start a romantic relationship right now," I said, completing her sentence. "See? I listen to you, but do you know what my problem is with that claim?" I widened my smile. "The problem is that you owe me breakfast. And I'm hungry!"

  "Listen, we still don’t really know each other very well, but I promise you that if you keep pushing me in a direction I'm not willing to go, I'll need to defend myself against you."

  "I agree. That's the last thing I want you to do."

  "So, what are you doing here?"

  "I'm helping you succeed in your new life."

  "How exactly?" She folded her arms.

  "If you want to be true to yourself, you must first be true to others."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "We agreed on having an indoor picnic, so... You owe me a picnic."

  "Don, come on..." She exhaled in frustration, releasing her folded arms and letting them fall to her sides.

  "Don't make this harder than it has to be, Michelle. One small picnic, and then we'll say our respectable goodbye."

  "You're not listening to me. I can't get into a romantic relationship right now. It's not about you, it's about me. I'm just at that point in time where I need to—"

  "Well, that sounds really fascinating." I opened my car door for her. "And we can go on talking about it at the picnic you owe me."

  "Stop saying 'picnic,' you nag."

  "Come on, let's continue this conversation on our indoor picnic." I ignored her request.

  "I don't see how we can do that, Don. You're not listening to anything I say."

  "I'm not? Oh no! And how does that make you feel?" I picked up her handbag and threw it in the back seat.

  "I'm not getting in your car. I drove here. I don't need a ride home."

  "What else have you been doing since the last time we kissed?" I placed my hand around her shoulder and
gently pushed her toward my open car door. "Tell me more, Michelle. It sounds very fascinating!"

  My indifference to her refusal was more amusing than irritating and made her able to find the courage to get into my car.

  "You can at least tell me where we're going?"

  "I told you already, but you asked me to stop saying that word."

  "What word? Picnic?" She rolled with laughter.

  "Yes. You owe me a picnic, so we're going to have a picnic. I'm driving back to your place."

  "Umm… Why can't we just go to a park or something?"

  "Let's start with the fact that my picnic basket is at your house."

  "So, we'll get new stuff for breakfast."

  "Look." I took a deep breath and kept driving. "I'd be happy to say that breakfast with you is worth more to me than anything else, but the truth is that the groceries I choose to put in that basket cost me quite a bit of money."

  "Oh, really?" She sounded hesitant. "I wish you'd said that to me earlier." She raised an eyebrow at me suspiciously. "Was there something that needed to be in the fridge?"

  "Are you serious? Please tell me you put all those expensive things in the fridge, Michelle."

  "I left the house as soon as you did this morning. I felt I needed to..."

  "Are you saying that all those fine boutique cheeses are still sitting on the floor in your living room? Is that what you're telling me?"

  "I'm sorry, but yes. I felt confused and needed someone to hear me out, so I rushed to the support group meeting."

  "You could have taken a peek at it. Just a small peek to see if there were French cheeses or maybe some special gourmet salads?"

  "I didn't look at anything. I just took my bag and then left."

  "In that case, you really do owe me a picnic."

  "Okay, I’ve got it." She smiled. "I owe you a picnic, but after it, we'll say our goodbyes. And this time for good."

  A half an hour later, I picked up the wine bottles I'd purchased from the back seat and thanked my lucky stars for helping me convince her to let me in.

  A quick glance at the living room proved that she was telling the truth. Everything I spread on the floor earlier that morning was still sitting there, just as I left it.

  "Well, let's get this picnic going. Come join me on the floor."

  "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

  "Michelle, for once in your life, will you loosen up a bit."

  "If you knew how loose your being here makes me, you wouldn't dare tell me that."

  "Hmm…" I thought a bit about her comment while going through the basket’s contents. "Come sit next to me and help me see what's still eatable out of all this."

  "I know you think you'll succeed in convincing me to do that, Don. But you're not."

  "It actually seems that most of the things here are semi-okay to eat."

  "Are you sure? Won't we get food poisoning?"

  "You see? That's the difference between us. You're so suspicious of everything while I'm more committed to the healthy life we’ve committed ourselves to."

  "In what world are you more committed than me?"

  "You said you wanted to lose the weight, right? You told me that was what you intended to do."

  "I am going to lose all the weight."

  "So what does it matter if some of these things here have gone bad? Worst-case scenario, we'll get sick. It's a win-win situation. Can't you see? Now, come on. I've saved you a place of honor right next to my nonsense."

  "I can't sit with you on the floor, Don." Her expression suddenly changed from amused to sorrow.

  "But it's a picnic and... And you sit on the blanket on a picnic."

  "That's right. That's how normal people do it, but I'm not normal. We're going to say goodbye after this picnic anyway, so why do you even care where I sit?"

  "Exactly. This is our last goodbye. Won't you give a man his last request in this short romantic relationship of ours?"

  "I told you, Don, it's not about you. You're not listening to me. I can't sit on the floor."

  "I insist," I reached out to her and added the most pleading smile I had ever given anyone.

  "You can insist until your face turns blue!" Suddenly she lost her temper. "I tried to avoid having to tell you this, but you're so dense. If I sit on the floor, Don, I'll never be able to get back up again."

  "You won't what? I don’t understand."

  "I know you don’t, that's the problem. I hoped the fact that you're fat would save me from the need to explain it in simple words, but you being fat doesn't seem to weigh on you as it weighs on me." She burst into hysterical tears. "I don't want you here, Don. I don’t want to sit on the floor, I don’t want to have a picnic, and I don't want you to see me like this," she sobbed. "Please let's just say goodbye. Please just leave me alone already."

  Chapter 15

  Michelle

  I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him.

  Any other sensible person, man or woman, would grab his feet and run as far away as possible from the embarrassing burst of emotions I displayed, certainly when it occurred due to my refusal to sit on the floor, but not him. He didn’t run, because something for sure was severely wrong with him.

  "What now? What in God's name are you doing now?" I wiped away my tears, trying to understand his rapid unexplained actions taking place around me.

  "If not on the floor, then on the table." He cleared a flower vase off my dining table and some ornamental statues that were there. "As I said, Michelle. You owe me a picnic."

  "You also said that after which, we'll say goodbye for good." I let out a short snort as my laughter got mixed up with my sobbing.

  "I did, and I'll stand up to my commitments."

  "You'll what? You… There's something wrong with you."

  "Come on. There's no reason to blush just because of that strange noise that came out of your nose a minute ago. None of this matters, Michelle. You won't see me again after today, remember?"

  Don bent to the floor, picked up the glasses, plates, and jars he brought with him earlier that morning and put everything in its place on the table.

  I watched him with admiration and wanted to feel his closeness again. I wanted to adopt his state of mind and hoped that the energies he had would cling to me and accompany me until my last day on Earth.

  "So... Do you come here a lot?" he asked as he pulled a chair out for me and pushed it lightly against my back as I sat down.

  "I have to admit that in the last twenty-four hours, it feels like you're coming here a lot more than me." I giggled.

  "Can I pour you some wine?" he asked, and the doctors' recommendations from the hospital's release letter came to mind.

  "I would love some wine, but I think I'd be better off not drinking alcohol for a few days."

  "In that case, there you go." he served me a glass of red wine, full to the brim.

  "I'm not going to drink that."

  "This is my breakfast payback, and on my breakfast, we drink."

  "One last hurrah for our short and brief love affair?" It was funny that he insisted on sticking to this being our last weird date, as it was clear that he didn’t mean it to be.

  "Exactly. I don't know how you break up with your dates, but I sometimes seal the deal with turbulent wild and uncontrollable sex that goes on for hours and hours."

  "Is that why you have a value pack of condoms in the basket?"

  "You did peek!" He caught the little detail of the truth I accidentally blurted out.

  "I did, and I'm not apologizing for it. I'm also not going to sleep with you, Don."

  "You rummaged through the delicious things I brought, and yet you chose to let them rot?"

  "And it has nothing to do with the fact that we just met. I just don't feel like I'm ready for a physical relationship."

  "Don't you think it's a shame to let all this go to waste?"

  "I do not."

  "Do you know how much each of these jars cost?"
/>   "Would you forget about the ingredients of breakfast a second?"

  "Well, I just as well should have forgotten all about them—"

  "Don. I'm trying to explain that I have a long way to go, and I think that a physical relationship would only set me back."

  "So, out of all the amazing goods that were in the basket, you only saw the condoms?"

  "If you're not listening to me, this picnic is over right now." I finally got his attention. "We sat down, we had a chat, and I paid my debt to you. Now that's enough. I'm not going to sleep with you. I need to know that you understand that."

  "I do."

  "Make me believe that." I smiled.

  "I promise I won't even try to get you to sleep with me, okay?"

  "You're a liar."

  "I'm serious, here." He pulled the pack of condoms out from the basket, tore all the wraps, and poked each condom in its turn. "That's it. Even if you beg me for it, sex isn't an option for us. Now, for the love of God, will you relax and have a glass of wine with me?"

  I'm not sure what made me do it, but I took the glass from his hand without mentioning any of the medical restrictions I was under.

  I drank that wine with great pleasure as the conversation between us took a turn for the better.

  Surprisingly, there were some moments when I actually wanted him to make me agree to more than I did, and God knows he tried.

  I explained the boundaries I wouldn’t cross, and he elegantly ignored me and kept on listing the baskets ingredients that turned bad while casually pouring more wine into my glass, after I almost didn’t notice I emptied it.

  "More?" he asked as a rhetorical question after he had already refilled my glass with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

  "I think I’ve had enough." I cleared my throat and took my glass into my hands "Yet, sure. Bring it on."

  "I love seeing you so relaxed." He murmured the words.

  "And I love how you're making me feel so relaxed." I could hardly believe that the words I buried so deep inside me came freely into our about-to-be-drunk conversation.

  "I'll bet you I can make you feel even better than you already do. If you'll just let me."

  "I thought you said sex was no longer an option. You ripped all the condoms apart, remember?" I laughed and put the wine glass back on the table after once again, sipping quite a bit of it.