Coming soon, a romance novel by guest author Harris S. Flagler, Jr., with a special Forward by platinum Country AND Western recording artist Allie Carter:

“She is trying to decide if it is safe to love me.”

I overheard the conversation more than thirty years ago, but it is still just as clear as ever. It has remained clear despite the erosion of waves on my mind, as tend to continue their assault during our journey through this world. The waves work relentlessly, doing their part to resurface tiny trinkets in our minds, which in the literal case are memories from our past. As the memories come to the surface, others are covered once more in order for them to resume their slumber and return to us at a later date. Most of the time I find the trinkets to be the same as when they last vanished. They come back into my mind and fade away with no more significance than the previous occurrence of the same event. I’ve learned, however, that timing and circumstances are the determining factors for how our memories impact our lives. Sometimes, it feels as if they’re planted to be unearthed at a precise date in the future, speaking to us provocatively in the moment as they never could at any time prior, nor any time to follow. Today turns out to be such a day.

My sister Jessica was a starting volleyball player at the University of Delaware. It was an odd choice for a Georgia girl who shares her initials with our risen savior, but we never linked any cause between her choice and that particular misfortune. I was in my second year of teen hood, starring in the role of annoying little sister as the family traipsed about the charming Main Street America of Newark (that’s “arc” like Noah, not “irk” like Jersey), the town bisecting the bustling campus. I noticed Jess – she never has answered to, nor acknowledged, her full legal name – quickly step to her right just a split second before I exchanged left shoulder blows with a college boy who was more than twice my equal. It was typical for her to have set me up for such an impact, and I may have seen it coming had I not been remixing Jewel’s “Foolish Games” in my head as we walked. The irony of the song title to the shenanigan has not been lost on me as an adult.

The twice equal offered no remorse towards the one of many awkward-looking teens attempting to keep up with her family on parents weekend. He was deep in conversation with a friend who was walking stage right of him as I overheard the fateful statement. “She is trying to decide if it is safe to love me.” I turned enough to see his friend begin to speak, an action confirmed by the movement of his arms and hands, which would not have been called into motion had his voice not been in some mode of explanation. It now occurs to me there is an off chance that his friend was a mime and spoke entirely using his hands and contortions of his face, but the possibility seems unlikely. Just as I would have heard his words – which, again, I’ve decided were actual words, not fake mime words – my derisive sister robbed me of the show’s conclusion and sentenced me to thirty years of wondering when she turned around and said, “Watch where you’re going, doofus.”

Until today, it would be hard for me to understate my disappointment on this matter. I may have learned a great secret to love at such a young age. It could have saved me a high school heartbreak or two, allowed me to help friends avoid the same, or maybe even given me insight into the heart, allowing me to introduce some of the great couples of our time. Surely, these were older, wiser men. They weren’t suffering from myopia, and were about to inadvertently enlighten a passerby who would spread the knowledge to the masses. Instead… I was reminded that I was a doofus.

As this memory returned to me this morning it took on a different color, and I could tell this unearthing had purpose behind it. The pivotal moments of relationships, both those that were and those that were not, scrolled through my mind like a PowerPoint titled, What to Expect When You’re Not Expecting. For the first time, I was led down the road to a conclusion.

I’ve only loved two men in my life. I met the first one by complete happenstance. He set me back from the moment we first engaged in conversation. I remember physically standing tall while he gave every response I had always wished someone would give, walking away feeling as though I had been conquered and steamrolled to the ground. The moment of getting what you ask for can be more difficult than you think once you finally do. He swept me off my feet like a fairy tale, arranging for us to have an entire park to ourselves one night as we shared our deepest and darkest, during which time the rest of me that had not already fallen went toppling down. My heart was shattered after a decision he was forced to make following a decision he shouldn’t have made. I watched as a wall was built between us. Despite this, I continued to love him, and we have spent our lives walking beside each other on opposite sides of the wall. The intimacy and candid spirit of the night in the park – this would be a good place to mention we have never physically touched, aside from the two times I’ve slapped him – has never vanished from our souls, which I am convinced are forever tied together.

The second man I met by forced intervention. I was cornered… literally and figuratively. Our interactions lacked chemistry at first, but slowly and surely I became endeared to the man. He made me feel safe in his arms. He always listened to my fears and concerns, despite often mocking me playfully for them as a way to help me get over myself. He never feared or worried about anything. I could talk for an hour and he might say thirty words in the same time frame. It wasn’t that he was distant or uncaring, as stillness and confidence were inveterate to his spirit where words were few, were chosen carefully, and were spoken with an authentic humility in conveyance of his appreciation for having a conversation with the woman he loved. He made love the same way, mastering my body again and again as it, along with my desires, changed over time. Every housewarming party we ever threw for any home in which we lived was a facade, as by the time any guests arrived it had been adequately and thoroughly warmed, again… and again. I never saw him hurt a soul or act out violently. His spirit was simply too calm to allow for the action. I watched as the spirit left me, slowly, as he was a relentless competitor and fought for every day of his life until there were no more. I can still feel his arms around me when I close my eyes.

Love can come at you by surprise and penetrate immediately to your soul. Or, it can ease itself in, drowning you at the pace of a trickle as you acquiesce, moment by moment. You can love someone for how they make you feel in a moment, or how they engage you and challenge you. You can love someone for how they protect you, and how they physically pleasure you. Love can be derived from how someone respects you, honors you, encourages you and allows you to be your true self. It is possible, therefore, to be in love with two different people, most particularly if it is for different reasons. One relationship may be certain to lack the possibility of sustainment account any number of factors, but the series of events and relationships in our lives can make it entirely possible, if not inexorable, for us to be in love with two different partners at the same time. Additionally, the romance of love may be ageless and timeless, but it is affected by time as certainly as gravity influences not only our lives, but also time itself. And taking all of this into mind, and acknowledging how love can come in different forms and for different reasons, and also how it can provide us many things, I have concluded that protection of the mind, heart and soul are not among those things.

This morning, as the bauble was uncovered and the slide show began to play in my mind, I realized exactly what was said from one friend to another on the streets of Newark all those years ago. “She is trying to decide if it is safe to love me,” is the part I overheard. Then, at the precise moment my sister turned towards, and taunted, me, the other friend answered by expounding a universal truth from which I am now glad my sister protected me with her well timed attack. It may have changed the course of my life, or others had I shared it, let it become a theme and let it take hold in the recesses of my mind. I may have accepted it and ruined myself forever. Because love is great. Love is a drug. It is a most irrational form of obsession meeting the deepest sense of passion. It will provide you with the greatest days of your life and leave you forever longing for the same high. So, rather than fear it, turn the emotion around and embrace your sense of adventure. You’re going to need it. Because, as the one friend educated the other, “It is never safe to love anyone.”

Allie Carter
Jupiter Island, FL
May 2027

Copyright 2016 Harris S. Flagler, Jr.