“I’m not who I once was. Neither of us are.” Her response reminded me she was human. It was one of the first times I recognized her as just a human being. For so long, through my rose-colored glasses, she had been the epitome of perfection. She frequently joked I put her on a pedestal when she didn’t deserve to be. I could see that now.

  She continued to speak. “After last night, I thought about what you shared and what you have gone through... What I have put you through. It doesn’t remove the pain I feel for the things you have done, but I am willing to try...with you.”

  So our conversation was real? I sat in shock, replaying the words from that moment and last night in my head. I could feel myself inside of my body, but I couldn’t move. Uncertain of what to do or say, I sat silent until she called out my name, bringing me back to reality.

  “Where do we go from here?” I started, flipping the question back to Erin and absolving myself from the outcome. Before she could respond, I spouted, “I mean, people love one another all of the time and aren’t together.”

  Torn between shock and anger, I reacted to everything she had said in the brevity of our conversation. I could no longer mask my fear of an untold outcome.

  A deafening silence lingered between us. Through my headphones I could faintly make out the airport announcer conducting an initial boarding call for a flight to JFK. I held my breath to avoid making another stupid comment. Time stood still, a luxury I could not afford on this occasion.

  “What was your plan?” Her words broke the ice coursing through my veins. She had the profound ability to remove emotion to get to a solution. It was something else about her I had always admired.

  As riveting as this conversation was becoming, words alone would not be enough. There had to be more.

  “I don’t know.” I looked up at the ceiling hoping an answer would magically come to me from above. “I was prepared to walk away from you forever last night. I didn’t have a plan for you still loving me.” My words had become a whisper.

  I stood in the middle of the concourse. Though curious eyes tried to avoid my gaze, I could feel people watching me. I didn’t care. As I stood, trapped in the reality of finally being loved by my soulmate and the life I had created back home, I suppressed the urge to scream.

  “Your follow-through game is weak! You came up here to profess your love, but you didn’t believe enough in your plan to be ready to take the next step.” Her voice rose loud enough to drown out the overhead announcement. I yanked one of my earpieces out.

  This moment was important, but I couldn’t afford to miss my flight. I walked over to my gate. The closer I came to departing, the more panicked I felt about what would happen next.

  My energy revolted. “What are your non-negotiables? I’ve shown you I’m willing to do whatever it takes!” In my periphery, I noticed the display behind the ticket counter indicated my plane had just landed. “I didn’t come all the way up here just to say I did it!”

  Sleep deprivation and the thrill of it all transformed me into one of those who yell into their phone, oblivious to the world around them. I walked away from the gate toward an open sitting area. There were still people there, some sleeping, others alert and sitting, but my demeanor remained the same. I was incapable of empathizing with them in my moment of despair.

  “You know I don’t do long distance.” She reminded again of how challenging this was going to be. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t considered this as an option. There was no way we could work if I didn’t live here. “I want to go on this journey with you, but I don’t know how I can fully trust you. There’s a lot that needs to be considered—”

  “And I want to get it figured out.” I interrupted. She had not named her terms of our engagement.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work for however long we can make it work—together. I love you and that’s the most important thing to me right now. So what do you want from me in this moment? I’m willing to do it!” I was shouting excitedly in an attempt to convince her, and myself, I was all in.

  Even in this joyous moment, I rambled on and was flooded by all the next things I would have to do to make this work. As insurmountable as they seemed, it would all be worth it in the end. Erin meant the world to me. If it was going to take me the rest of my life, I wanted to make sure she never questioned my love or intent. This wouldn’t be another grandiose gesture without substance.

  “Peyton!”

  I stopped talking. It was rare she said my name, much less called it out with such force.

  The announcer called for my flight to begin boarding. I looked up at the wall clock. We were scheduled to take off in twenty minutes. I walked to the end of the line as we continued talking. Although she was over an hour away from where I physically stood, I could feel her growing further away the closer I edged to the boarding door.

  Tears began to form in my eyes. I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Out of the window, a light snow began to dust the tarmac.

  “Erin, I love you. I have loved you since I first knew you and I would have loved you forever if last night never happened. The next time I come here, it will be for good.” I tried to hide the sound of my tears, but I failed, and she cracked a joke.

  “Well, if you go there this will have been for nothing because I live here.”

  I smiled.

  “Touché, my love. Touché.”

  “Let me know when you land,” she said, ending the call.

  I immediately called her back.

  “Anything could happen. A non-negotiable for me is to end every interaction like it is the last. Don’t just hang up or walk away. Okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Let me know when you land. I love you,” she said with a smile which penetrated my heart.

  “I love you more.”

  “Impossible!”

  I took my seat, continuing to watch the snowfall from the tiny cabin window. I had pulled off a scene from so many of the ROM-COM movies I had seen before and prevailed.

  I fired up the playlist I curated for Erin’s thirtieth birthday. As Luther Vandross’ “So Amazing” started to play, I smiled and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

  “I hope that you’re the one. If not, you are the prototype.”

  —Outkast’s “Speakerboxxx/The Love Below”

  Trust the Process

  I sat back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Jonathan, my therapist, had a local artist paint a mural around the skylight to help patients like me block out the noise of the day. I needed to focus on me. That’s why I was here. The mural reminded me of a multi-colored mirror glaze cake. I was fixated on tracing the cerulean blue until it combined into black and finally became navy.

  Eight months had passed since Peyton confessed her love and pledged to do whatever it would take to deliver my—our—fairytale. Seeing her that night changed everything for me, but I had no reason to believe she would actually move to DC. She had said it time and time again, and yet, nothing.

  When Peyton finally arrived, I pinched myself daily to make sure it was real. It felt like a dream, but only better, until reality of the past set in.

  Jonathan finally spoke, “You ready to begin?” I nodded, pulling my attention away from the ceiling and back to the present. The conversation I thought I was having with him had all been in my head.

  “When will I be cured?” I asked, hoping these twice-a-week sessions would accelerate my healing so I could get back to my life.

  “Cured?” He hesitated. “There’s no one thing that is going to cure you from what you’re feeling. That’s not the point of therapy. I thought you understood the last time you asked, and the time before.” His glance intensified. “There are steps to get you closer to where you want to be, but you have to start the process by talking.”

  I looked back up at the ceiling. This time, I focused on the magenta streak that split through a sea of white. It was the closest color to red I could find. Whenever he mentioned I had to go beyond the surface, I settled in on the color that most closely resembled how I felt. I didn’t want to talk to him, or anyone else for that matter. I had been figuring it out on my own for the past thirty-five years; there was no reason to turn it over to someone else now.

  “I’m only here because it was a contingency for us to be together,” I said.

  “But it was your idea.” Peyton chimed in. I could feel her shifting toward me. I kept my eyes glued to the mural.

  “Peyton, what were you hoping to get out of this session?” Jonathan asked, giving me a pass.

  “I want to know I made the right decision. I want the person who I fell in love with all those years ago to be that person. I was hoping by coming to a neutral person, we could get everything out in the open and move forward.” Peyton reached toward me and touched my hand.

  “Look at me, please. I love you more than anything in this world. I have done everything I can to prove that to you, but nothing seems to be enough. No matter how hard I try, you make me pay for everything that has happened in our past and more. If you don’t want me here, just say that. We can be done for good.”

  Peyton pulled her hand away and turned to face Jonathan. I turned to look at her and started to cry. Jonathan handed me the tissue box.

  “This is not what I wanted. This is not what I envisioned for my life.” I took a deep breath and dabbed by eyes and nose, trying to keep from sobbing in front of this man. “I don’t know if I can trust you and as much as I love you, I can’t be with someone I can’t trust.”

  Peyton shifted forward on the couch, nodding her head up and down. She had clasped her fingers, rubbing her hands together, a sign she was frustrated. Usually, this would be the catalyst to an argument, which would turn into a yelling match before one of us stormed off. This time, she just sat there.

  “What did you want?” Jonathan asked. “When you agreed to move forward and let Peyton live with you until she could get settled on her own, what were your expectations? Did you trust her then? If so, what changed?”

  He was asking too many questions that were, quite frankly, none of his damn business. I kept looking at Peyton, willing her to look back at me, but she stared forward. Even in her anger, her dimples shown through. I reached out for her hand, pulling her in my direction. If I was going to share how I felt, I wanted to tell her, not Jonathan.

  “Peyton, you hurt me in way only someone who loves me could. That’s why it is so hard for me to just move on and pretend everything is all good. You broke my heart. I did so much work to get over you, to forgive you so I could heal, and now I relive that pain every time I look at you. I am reminded daily how you chose someone else over me. You gave her our dreams. How am I just supposed to move on from that?” I was crying again now, and so was she.

  “Maybe you don’t. I just wish I would have known that sooner.” She stood up and dropped my hand, thanking Jonathan, before walking out of the office. I regained my composure, dried my eyes and gathered my things.

  “Are we done for today?” I asked. I didn’t want to be rude. Jonathan had been doing nothing more than what I paid him to do—help.

  “If that’s what you would like. You made a lot of progress today. Should I put you down for next week?” He pulled out his planner, which looked like an old-fashioned leger full of names.

  “I’ll call you,” I said, as I pulled the door, following the same path Peyton had taken moments before.

  I wanted to chase after her, but the game of cat and mouse had been our go-to for the past few weeks. I decided to let her have her space. We rode together, so she would at least need to retrieve her car from my house if she went there.

  When I finally arrived back home, her car was no longer in the driveway. She had left a note in the door. Unsure of what to expect, I waited until I was in the house before opening it.

  Erin,

  I’ve been writing this letter in my head since I arrived months ago. My hesitation has been a mix of fear of your response. Although there are still a lot of unknowns, I’m asking we figure out what we want us to be. I’ve tried to walk away from you ever since I’ve been here and I can’t. You are and will always be the love of my life. You were put on earth for me, and I for you.

  I understand trust is a major piece of building a relationship. And I have broken yours too many times to count. I will put in the work to rebuild it. I am just asking you extend grace as we get through this together. For the sake of us and achieving our love story. In the meantime, I’ll give you some space.

  —Peyton

  Acknowledgments

  Proverbs 18:22 says “He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord.” This verse speaks to my relationship with the love of my life. Michelle, thank you everything you are and how you show up for me. In the middle of a pandemic, while pregnant, homeschooling, working, and launching a business, you supported my crazy idea of writing a book. Thank you for doing life with me. Thank you for being more than just my wife. Thank you for helping me make all of our dreams come true. It’s you and me until the chairs stop rocking.

  You can’t have kids and do something huge and not acknowledge them, right? Frick, Frack, and Frodo, y’all are my heart in human form. Thanks for pushing me to be a better version of myself daily.

  This book was made possible because people believed in me so fervently, they preordered copies and helped promote the book before it was worthy of being called such. I have so much gratitude to you all, especially those who encouraged me in not-so-subtle ways, to get across the finish line. You are a huge part of why Unknown Love is a reality. To commemorate your support, you are forever enshrined as a part of my legacy. In alphabetical order by first name:

  Abby Colvais, Khadijah Abdullah, Acacia Olson, Akilah Ali, Alexa Williams, Alice Ann K. Massenburg, Allison Gunter, Amanda Johnson, Anna Almore, Bryan Billy, Ben Reynolds, Brandy Crawford-Uriu, Brett Noble, Bridgett Turner, Brittany Croone, Bruce Herring, Bunmi Fashu, Camille Thomas, Candace Garrett, Casey Brown, Chanette Tyson, Chelsea Bradford, Cherie Glass, Cortnie Rodriguez, Cristal Jones, Cynthia Babb (mommy), Deven Comen, Danielle Babbs, Darren Ramalho, Donnell Cox, Eboni English, Ebony Payne, Emily Cook, Eric Koester (The Professor), Erica Porter, Erica Jordan-Thomas, Erika Hermosillo, Fanny Spencer, Felicia Tillman, Krystal Allen, J. Sterrett, Jasmine Lynch, Jessica Medlock, Jia Lin, Jonathan Loveall, Jonnika S. Simpson, Kamaria Witherspoon, Kashia Webster, Kathryn Ling, Katrina Smith, Keli Davis, Kellee Miller, Kimberly Douglass, L. Coley, Lashonda Love, LaTasha Clemmons, LaTrice Lyle, Lauren Sanders, Linda Belans, Markita Tillman, Mellanie Brady, Megan Gardner, Michelle Austin, Michelle Smith Howard, Mira Shah, Myisha Trice, NeChelle Gordon, Nkiruka Ogbuciekwe, Quateka Bolden, Ronald Bradford, Sawanna McBriden, Schquita McGhee, Shanice English, Stephanie Barthelemy, Stephanie Dennis, Stephanie M Parkinson, T. Williams, T. N. Reynolds, Tanara Gordon, Tarah Galloway, Tia Clemmons, Timm West, Tori Lee, Vanessa Laúren, and Will Allen.

  To the team at New Degree Press, without you this book would be a series of complex thoughts forever stuck on a page in a notebook. A special thank you is reserved for Eric Koester for his visionary idea of creating this program. Stephanie McKibben, my marketing and revisions editor, you are a godsend. Thank you for your holding my story and helping me bring it to life for others to enjoy.

  I am incredibly thankful to the Sisterhood of AutHERS for their eyes and ears throughout this writing process. Congratulations on your success. Our connection is forever interwoven in these pages.

  To the Real 100, Bryan, Emily, Jasmine, and Lauren, there are not enough words in any euro-centric dictionary that would express what you all mean to me and my journey as a whole fucking adult. You all make me a better human being. Thank you!

  There is another special group of folks who read the early pages and spared none of my feelings offering critiques on how to make this a better, more poignant story: Casey Brown, Emily Cook, India Ambeau, Jasmine Cannon, Stephanie Dennis, NeChelle Gordon, Jonnika Simpson, Kamaria Witherspoon, Kristin Loper, Lana Caruthers. Thank you for your unabashed feedback. Who would’ve known our life experiences would bond us over these pages.

 

 

  Allecyn A. G. Howard, Unknown Love

 

 

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