Sheridan
twenty-three
“Hey, wait a second,” Erik said.
“What? I have to go,” I told my roommate. It was afternoon, and I was planning to pick Genevie up in a few minutes.
“I know. I just—I need to tell you something.”
“What?” I didn’t want to be rude, especially since Erik had graciously agreed to take the dogs out for me tonight.
“The thing with Mike Larsen. There’s something you need to know.”
“About what?”
I had recently told people like Genevie and Erik about the meeting with Mike Larsen and how incredible his revelation had been. When I told this to Erik and mentioned to him that nothing had ever been said about the beating I took that night in December, I could tell it bothered him. Now he told me why.
“Sheridan, it wasn’t Mike Larsen who beat you up that night.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“It was someone else—I still don’t know who. Someone coming after me. A guy I’d bought drugs from. Things went bad a while back in December, and I refused to give these guys their money. The stuff they gave me was garbage, and I refused to pay for it. Then one night I get home and find you all bloody and black and blue.”
“Are you sure? It wasn’t Larsen at all?”
“Believe me, I’m sure.”
“But I thought I saw him. His face.”
“You said he was wearing a hood. Right?”
“Still…”
“Man, I’m sorry. That beating you took was meant for me. I paid those guys their money right afterward. I just didn’t have any idea how to tell you.”
“I would’ve understood,” I told Erik.
“I know. But I don’t. They mistook you for me—the guy who did it hadn’t ever met me before. Things were really out of control back then. I think that’s why things went so bad that one night—the night I almost ODed. I hated hiding that from you.”
“It’s okay, Erik. I know the feeling of hiding things from others. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was.”
“You weren’t the one punching me,” I replied. “Besides, I think in some way God used that to get my attention. He’s tried in so many ways over the years. I’m just thankful he finally got through.”
“Well, I know you’ve gotta go, but I’m sorry, man.”
“Enough said,” I replied. “Now listen, if Barney or Ralphie gets sick, don’t call me. Take him to the vet yourself.”
Erik laughed. “I can do that. For you.”
Hours later, Genevie summed up the night in three simple words: “This is incredible.”
“I told you that someday we would do this,” I told her as warm air breezed over us. “I just didn’t think it would take so long.”
We sat on top of a charter boat named SeaGar, looking out at the sweeping night view of the Chicago skyline. It was nine o’clock, and we had perhaps another hour to go before the ship docked. And only one more night before Genevie left for California.
This time we had actually made it to the dock on time. I had opted not to go with one of the larger ships that held hundreds of people. The SeaGar was a small but classy ship, featuring a downstairs with two cabins, a galley with a bar and many seats, and an upper deck with cushioned seats encircling a wooden floor. Gen and I were one of five couples on the specially chartered evening voyage. Stirring music piped in as we drifted out over Lake Michigan—one of the pieces played was even by my favorite composer, John Barry.
Dinner consisted of chicken Veronique, wild rice, a spinach salad with walnuts, and an incredibly rich chocolate cheesecake Genevie especially enjoyed. We eventually ended up on the upper deck, looking out toward the city and the sparkling panorama.
“Sort of different from the Sears Tower view,” I joked.
“Yeah, but just as beautiful—especially with the lights reflecting on the water,” she answered; then she added after a moment or two, “I can’t believe I’m leaving this behind.”
“What if you told them you’d changed your mind?” I asked her, my smile contagious as I snuggled her up against me, one arm wrapped around her shoulder.
“I can’t. I made a commitment. This is what I have to do.”
“I know. It’s just—it’s so hard. Why couldn’t I have met you earlier?”
“You weren’t looking, right? You were in the suburbs, in your self-imposed exile.”
“Good way to describe it. I guess you’re right.”
“I can be occasionally,” Gen said with a smile as she reached down to take my hand.
“So can I ask again where we stand?” I asked, thinking this would be a good time, since Gen rested underneath one of my arms and held my other hand.
Gen let out a chuckle. “Do I really need to tell you?”
“Well, I’m just curious. I mean, tonight—and the last couple of weeks. I know we’re friends—”
“Friends? And you think I go out on dinner cruises and cuddle up with friends?”
“I’m not sure.” I grinned. “You always seemed real cozy with Matt…”
“Stop,” Gen said. “Why do you need things to be spelled out so clearly?”
“You were the one who once said you never wanted to see me again.”
“At the time, I didn’t want to. I didn’t understand what you were holding back from me. I thought it had something to do with your old girlfriend.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve never mentioned her to me. Never told me about her. I always thought you still had feelings for her. You were going to marry her, right?”
“I thought I was.”
“I couldn’t figure out why you wouldn’t open up with me, and I figured it had something to do with your ex.”
“Lydia.”
“Would you tell me what happened between you and her?” Gen asked.
“I told you the only reason I ever decided to go to Covenant was because of a girl I liked at the end of my senior year in high school. We were really serious. Lydia was nothing like me except that we both came from rich families. She was sort of like my parents, not really understanding my musical aspirations. She’d laugh when I told her I wanted to be a composer. But she also cared very much for me, and our personalities complimented each other.”
“The accident changed things, right?”
I nodded. “It changed everything in my life. I don’t know which was worse—having to deal with the family of the girl who died or having to face Lydia. The day after it happened, I knew before I even saw her that Lydia would break up with me.”
“But how? Why did she leave you?”
“I had gotten into trouble at the college several other times. Mostly because of my drinking. There wasn’t one exact reason why—I guess it had to do with the friends I hung around with and my general lack of motivation. Now that I look back, I think I was confused and frightened of what I was going to do once I graduated. I was angry that I had given up on my dreams. I blamed a lot of other people, but mostly I blamed myself.”
“But if Lydia cared for you so much, why didn’t she stay with you?”
“I guess I’d let her down too much. I had made so many promises that I would stop partying. Obviously, I didn’t. After Amy’s death, I knew I couldn’t expect Lydia to stay with me. Even when I told her how much I needed her. She told me I needed to get my life back in order—that I needed help. Actually, she was right. She just didn’t stick around to see it happen.”
Gen said nothing, but looked out over the water toward the bright Chicago skyline.
“The following year, after I had left school, she ended up dating one of my best friends and getting engaged to him.”
“And how did that make you feel, Sheridan?”
“It’s funny. When I heard the news, I figured it was another form of punishment from God. I was so wrapped up in self-pity that I couldn’t see that Lydia wasn’t punishing me at all. She was simply moving on with her life. She didn’
t deserve to wait years for me to come back around.”
“Did she love you?”
“Yes, I know she did at one time.”
“And what about you? Did you love her?”
“Good question. I don’t know. Maybe if I had loved her, I would have tried harder. I don’t know. I’ve always had this tendency to let down those I love. That is why, when I met you and got to know you, I was afraid to tell you about everything. It’s not like I’ve always been God’s gift to women.”
“We all make mistakes, Sheridan.”
“You could tell me about some of yours,” I said with a smile, trying to lighten the conversation.
“I guess my biggest mistake was falling for the wrong guy.”
“Well, obviously,” I said. “I know that.”
“I’m not talking about you, silly. In high school I was serious about a guy. Someone who treated me really badly. I didn’t know any better.”
“Why was he so bad?”
“He didn’t respect women, especially not me. He was outspoken and insulting. He was the jock type, the kind who works out three hours a day and thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
“What were you doing with him?”
“I was stupid. Like I said, I fell for the wrong guy. He constantly tried to pressure me into having sex with him. I wasn’t a Christian then, but still I knew that was a wrong thing for me to do. I eventually broke up with him, fearing his pressuring might result in something else.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her, my hand rubbing her arm and shoulder as she talked.
“You know, I still think about him from time to time. I still wonder where he is, what he’s up to, what he looks like, and all that. Memories don’t ever go away, and I believe that some feelings never completely go away either. We just grow older and distance ourselves from childhood loves.”
“I wish I felt a little less old and a lot more distant from mine.”
She didn’t respond, just gazed at me in the dimmed light of the deck. In the semidarkness her eyes were dark, unfathomable. Finally she spoke almost in a whisper. “I think that was one reason I fell in love with you.”
“Why?”
“Because you are so different from most of the guys I’ve known.”
“Yeah, I think I’m allergic to fitness clubs,” I joked.
“No. That’s not what I mean. There’s a depth to you, Sheridan. And a kindness. You’ve showed me sides to you that I thought I’d never see in any man, especially one I was attracted to.”
“Was? So that’s past tense, right?”
“How about ‘one I am attracted to.’ More now than ever before.”
I shifted so I could kiss Genevie on the lips. The boat slowly made its way toward the shoreline, passing by Navy Pier with its crowd of people and music and lights and activity. I felt secluded and safe on the top deck of the boat, still holding Gen in my arms.
“Sheridan.”
“What?” I replied.
“Would you ever consider leaving Chicago?”
“I’ve been here my whole life.”
“You can’t see yourself leaving?”
“For where?” I joked.
“For somewhere—I don’t know—somewhere warmer, maybe. Perhaps on the West Coast, a land of fruits and nuts—”
“Hmm. Let me guess. Maybe somewhere like… California?”
“Now, there’s a place.”
“Gen, come on.”
“What? What’s wrong with at least asking?”
“Nothing. It’s just—that’s a pretty big step. I’m not the world’s best in dealing with change.”
Her shoulders fell just a little, but she kept her smile. “I figured I’d at least ask you once.”
“There are so many things I still need to do around here. I’m going to be graduating this month. After that, who knows what’s going to happen.”
“But you’re not bound to Chicago, are you?”
“I don’t know. No, guess not. But still…”
“What?”
“I just—I just can’t picture myself leaving Chicago. This is all I’ve ever known.”
“There are a lot of job opportunities in California, especially for someone with your musical talents. Lots of movies being made. Lots of musicians out there, too.”
“California’s so far away.”
“I never told you this, Sheridan, but for a long time, I prayed to God to bring someone into my life who would change the way I look at the world. Someone who would help me see God’s grace in a better light. And he brought that someone.”
“Oh, really,” I found myself taunting playfully. “So who have you been seeing behind my back?”
She snorted, and the familiar fire was in her eyes. “You know, you don’t give yourself credit for anything. You persecute yourself and put yourself down—and sometimes it gets a little tiresome. You know perfectly well I’m talking about you. What happened to those dreams that you used to have—those wild ambitions about music, about making a difference?”
“I changed.”
“So don’t you think you can change again? God continually changes us. He is always changing me. This last year has been incredible. I’ve seen how God has worked a miracle in your life by giving you hope again.”
“But hopes and dreams are two different things,” I replied.
“Are they?”
“Gen, I don’t want to say good-bye to you. I want to ask you to wait for me. But there are so many things I still have to do around here. I’m just beginning to start living again.”
“I’m in no rush for anything,” she said.
“Still, I can’t ask you.”
“You don’t need to ask anything,” Gen replied. “It’s not entirely up to you, you know.”
I laughed and shook my head. “How did I get so lucky as to meet someone like you? to have you come across my path? to have you change my life?”
“I didn’t do anything,” she replied with sincere modesty.
I looked into the dark eyes that filled me with so much passion and hope. “You let me love you,” I said.
Once again, I kissed her softly, forgetting about the boat and the luminescent skyline and the impending farewell. Gen was there by my side, in my arms, and there was nothing more I needed to tell her before I said good-bye.
The next morning I stood in the airport terminal, wishing for a better place to tell Genevie good-bye, but knowing it wouldn’t change anything.
I knew I would forever remember the moment and the way she looked in those final moments. Cascading satin hair the color of midnight caressing her forehead and framing her face and falling down over her back. Long, oval, luscious brown eyes gleaming in the sun that streamed in through the windows. A sad smile. A tall body totally unself-conscious about its beauty and grace and command.
Thank you, Father, for letting me meet her. For letting me be able to tell her good-bye.
She waited for me to say something. I had talked to her about her morning bagel and coffee and about the in-flight movie possibilities and about our cruise the night before and about so many other meaningless things. I could take those words back and expound on how many ways I loved her, but I would never be able to say anything remotely close to what I truly wanted to say.
“I don’t want to leave,” Gen eventually said.
“I don’t want you to, either.”
“If this was one of those Friday night movies, I’d either abandon the trip or you’d get a ticket and come with me.”
“I wish it was. I wish we were flying over Africa right now, holding hands, knowing that nothing could ever keep us apart.”
“Has this been a dream, Sheridan? Has all this been a temporary resting place before we get on with the rest of our lives?”
“I hope not.”
“I don’t want to go,” Gen said again.
“You have to.”
“I know.”
“I’m never going to forget about you, Ge
n. And about the past year.” I looked down at her, my arms still around her. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”
“No.”
“I remember seeing you in that theater back in the fall. How we spoke briefly and how I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed a friend so badly at that time. I never expected you’d be that friend. That you’d be so much more.”
The loudspeaker had already begun droning out the usual boarding procedures—first-class passengers, people with small children, the very back rows. Now they were calling Genevie’s row number.
“I have to go,” she said, picking up the soft carrier with Ralphie in it. He would ride under her seat during the long flight.
“I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” I told Gen.
“You’ll find your way. You’ve come this far. I know you’ll go further.”
“Thank you, Gen.”
“I’ll be waiting for you, Sheridan Blake,” Genevie said, a lost and lone tear sliding down her cheek.
I couldn’t believe how easily the words came, how peacefully the sentence came out, how relieved I was to be able to utter it.
“Good-bye, Genevie Liu.”
She was walking toward the gate, but she turned around once, smiling at me. It was the same smile she had turned toward a stranger in a movie theater many months ago, the same friendly, compassionate smile that showed just how caring a woman she was.
Then that smile was gone.
May 21
Dear Amy,
Today I had my last session with Nita and said my good-byes to her and her family. I told them I would stay in touch, as I plan to do. But even as I played the piano with Nita for one last time, I realized it was time to go. I also realized that it was time to say good-bye to you as well. That is why this will be my final letter to you.
I still can’t believe that I’m through with college, that this year has finally come to an end. Part of me never thought I’d make it to that glorious day when I received my college diploma. For so long that day frightened me, because I knew it would propel me into an unknown future. Now I look to the horizon and see all the possibilities awaiting me.
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