The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara
Twenty-Two
It suddenly hits me. I left David. I quit my job. I’m about to find out who Max is. My life has changed drastically in twenty-four hours. Again. It’s like a cycle. Once a year, something related to Carmel pops up, and it’s like a whirlwind.
I’m alone, unemployed, with barely any money in the bank, no prospects, and about to go chasing a man who wants nothing to do with me by all accounts. Crazy much?
There is a moment when I consider driving back, ripping the letter for David and just pretending like it didn’t happen. But that moment passes. I’ve done the right thing. For both of us. Just like I’ve done the right thing with Janice. Just like I’m doing the right thing by driving to the airport. I have to do this. I HAVE to. For myself. For the last year and all the sleepless nights. For what I felt that day and ever since.
I hesitate again when I stop at a UPS store and mail my book boxes to Hartford. It costs me a fortune. Not a good time to be spending right now.
I hesitate again as I’m standing in line at the counter at the airport and buying my one-way ticket with two stopovers—the cheapest I could get on such short notice—to San Francisco.
I hesitate when I call my mother and tell her about my change of plans.
“Won’t make it home this weekend after all. Sorry, Mom. I’m headed for the airport.”
“Airport? Where are you going?”
“California,” I say. “To meet—”
I’m about to say ‘friends’, but I hate lying. Hate it! I crack down and tell her the truth.
“Let me see if I got this. You’re going to California to find a man you spent a day with, without talking to him or seeing him, and all that happened while you were with David.”
“Sort of. It’s complicated.”
“Maya, he could be a total psycho. You realize that, right?”
“He’s not a psycho. Mom, have a little faith in me.”
“Honey, your decisions when it comes to men aren’t—”
“It’s different this time.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think I truly loved any of my previous boyfriends. Maybe I was in love with them in the beginning, but then I knew it wasn’t going to work out.”
“And you think you love this man you don’t even know?”
“I don’t know. But I owe it to myself to at least meet him face to face and talk to him.”
“Honey, why don’t you come over, spend the weekend, and let’s talk about it. Is this because of David? This is such a rash decision, and it doesn’t sound like you.”
That’s a good thing. Because she’s right. The ‘me’ she knows only made crappy decisions all of her adult life. I’m happy to exchange that version of myself any day.
I hesitate many times, despite telling my mother I’m sure about what I’m doing.
But an hour later, I’m on the plane, we take off, and I see my reflection in the small, round window and the silly grin on my face, and I feel proud. I feel reckless and brave and excited. I’m taking a risk. And at least for a moment, as brief as it is, there’s no hesitation and all that lies ahead is a world of possibilities.
I haven’t felt this free since I boarded a bus and headed into the unknown. So free!