– “I’m afraid that if I turn out to be infertile, he will leave me.”
I don’t even know why it didn’t occur to me at that moment that Eliz wouldn’t be alone if she broke up with Peter. First of all, she is divinely beautiful. For some, of course, beauty is not necessarily an argument that suggests everything will be fine in one’s personal life. Countless beautiful women roam the world in proud solitude. But Eliz is not just beautiful. She is impossibly beautiful. A delicate, intelligent girl with huge brown eyes, she did not make men fall in love with her because she was incapable of any manipulation. She was simply herself, and wherever she appeared, men’s hearts melted in her presence. A little tenderness. An elegant flower. She was someone you wanted to protect, cherish, guard, pamper, nurture… Cuddle, love. Always be by her side. Create a beautiful world for her, just like she herself: infinitely beautiful, tender, subtle, airy, and full of love.
Not lacking male attention, as a deeply reflective person, Eliz, however, could not be called happy in love. The number of her admirers rarely turned into quality. Her deep, searching nature continued to seek, even when everyone around her thought she had a wonderful partner and they had a great relationship. Wonderful relationships, for Eliz, still did not mean perfection. She yearned for perfection, exploring the mysterious world of relationships, testing it from the outside and the inside, constantly striving for a truth known only to her.
She categorically rejected the postulate about the “simplicity” of men. Being incredibly complex herself, sometimes even confusing to everyone, including herself, she tried to find some magical, subtle closeness in her partners, which she believed should be a necessary condition for “the right” union, the one she would want to remain in for many years. This mysterious closeness, however, was almost never found in real relationships. And when she thought “this is it,” time inevitably brought out aspects of the relationship that didn’t fit into her understanding of the ideal she was striving for.
Over time, Eliz decided that maybe this ideal didn’t exist at all, and she should simply settle for what was “good” and “worked.” The best is the enemy of the good, the search can take too long, and she was soon to turn 30 and wanted children. After all, Eliz was always surrounded by good men, and with some of them, she reached certain levels of closeness, deep enough to feel satisfied with this depth.
Peter came closest to her heart compared to her other admirers. He seemed calm, successful, strong. Strong enough that this strength sometimes emanated with authority. The polarity of these people was obvious: vibrant yang, refined yin. Peter’s determination to be with Eliz came at a time when she had already resolved to accept “the best of what exists,” abandoning “the best of what could be.” The best of what existed was Peter.
It can’t be said that their union was a “strained” one from Eliz’s side. Not at all. She and Peter were wonderful friends, a lovely couple, they suited each other, cared for each other, wanted to be together, and were ready for it. Consciously and intelligently, they solved the difficulties and rough edges of communication, already living together, and it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when they announced their engagement.
To everyone, except me. Of course, it was clear that this was coming. Eliz and Peter had been living together as husband and wife for a long time, running a household, making plans, and looked like a married couple. The logical continuation was to cement their union. Logical for both of them and for everyone around them. But this logic didn’t fit in my mind at all. Although, for me, it was clear that Eliz’s internal decision was to “just be” with what was happening, her choice of Peter was incomprehensible to me.
Let their union be good. But, in my opinion, it was not good enough for Eliz. I always felt that she decided to stop and make the final choice too early. Perhaps I felt that Peter did not treat Eliz the way she deserved, even if I accepted that Peter was not her soulmate, her “true closeness.” Perhaps the reason was his somewhat external dryness, and I thought Eliz deserved a more tender attitude. Or perhaps, at least the seeming authority of Peter made me doubt that, over time, he wouldn’t subdue her free spirit… Anyway, I always felt that their marriage was a mistake. My mistake. As if it were my duty to make her happy, after all, we were friends, very close friends…
I would probably be lying if I said we were always only friends. This amazing woman instantly became part of my being the moment we met. A connection happened immediately, whenever we communicated, there was always a sense of something familiar, a deep mutual understanding of life’s values. We were on the same wavelength. Our friendly communication was so wonderful that, little by little, we began to let each other deeper into our lives and quickly became close friends. We trusted each other with quite intimate secrets, spoke of events in our personal lives, enjoyed any opportunity to communicate, although it never went beyond friendship. Never, except for one time.
Eliz was at my place, we were watching some movie and waiting for another friend who was supposed to arrive soon. For guests, I had set up a large couch; my friends and I loved watching movies while lounging on the couch. I liked half-sitting, half-lying, leaning my back against the backrest of the sofa, while Eliz was lying on her stomach, dangling her delicate feet in the air. Of course, if you’re friends, just lying next to each other doesn’t obligate anything. We were talking about life, closeness, relationships. It was very quiet, some gentle music played softly. I was greatly enjoying looking into Eliz’s bright eyes in the dim room. Honestly, at that moment, I thought that, besides the fact that she was incredibly beautiful, Eliz was also devilishly sexy, especially in her black leather pants and tight black t-shirt. Her dark brown eyes were looking at me, Eliz smiled, and suddenly something happened… It seemed to me that the room was filling with some sweet, dense substance, where almost nothing was left except for me and her. It was so beautiful, our unity, such an evening calm, depth, soft sound. As if we were merging with this viscous sweetness, becoming it and flowing into each other. As if our boundaries—of consciousness, sensations—had disappeared… And I wanted to touch her.
For a moment, it seemed to me that my being would reach out to her, but… Strangely, the moment was beautiful and perfect, but it was this perfection that stopped me. I wanted to preserve it—this perfect moment. Fear. The fear that everything would be destroyed if I touched her now. That the house of cards would fall, the wave would rush at the sandcastle, the wind would blow the rose petals off my hand, and I would never feel this beauty again. My back felt as if it had grown to the backrest of the sofa.
But at that moment, I was pierced by an incredible feeling. As if my consciousness had touched hers. For a moment, I had no doubts that Eliz knew what was happening inside me, just as I knew what she felt in that moment. And an even greater fear overwhelmed me like an icy wave when Eliz raised herself and reached out to me.
I was absolutely sure that she wanted to touch, wanted to turn this momentary perfection into even more perfection, and nothing scared her. But I was terrified to touch now, to lose her forever—like a friend, like a close person, like this wonderful being I wanted to always care for. And this fear paralyzed me so much that if Eliz really had touched me, I wouldn’t have had the strength to either run away or stop her.
And no one knows how this story would have ended if, just at that moment, like in the movies, our friend, whom we were waiting for, hadn’t suddenly appeared. After that incident, I thought many times about what might have come of it, whether we would have entered a romantic relationship, if we would have been together, if we would have been happy, if Eliz would have left Peter for me, or perhaps, to accommodate my fear, we would have parted forever… No one knows.
This story was quickly forgotten, both by me and by her, or at least we pretended nothing happened. Only once, in some conversation, we briefly remembered that day, and Eliz, looking somewhere within herself, quietly said, “I just wanted to caress you…” If she only knew how badly I really wanted that touch…
Eliz and Peter got married, and of course, I was invited to the wedding. Eliz was the most beautiful and happiest bride, divine in her exquisite white dress. Peter rarely smiled, and I didn’t like that at all. The person who married Eliz should have been the happiest person and thank fate for such a wonderful gift. I always felt that Peter was trying to project an air of some solidity that he didn’t actually have… I certainly wasn’t the happiest person that day. I had the conviction that Eliz was making a mistake and that Peter was not the one who could make her happy. But there was nothing I could change.
Perhaps there was some truth to my fears, because, completely absorbed by her new life as a wife, Eliz stopped seeming calm and relaxed. She changed her wardrobe, and the bright colors and bold elements disappeared. We began to communicate much less. Occasionally, we would call each other, meet in a café to exchange birthday presents or just have a coffee and talk about what had happened recently. But we never discussed anything really important or personal.
Perhaps the reason was that I couldn’t shake my concern for her. I felt an unbearable tension when I saw Eliz in her newly-formed role, which didn’t quite fit her, but I remained silent. It wasn’t my business. Everyone had to make their own mistakes.
I never questioned her decision, although I continued to believe that it was a mistake. And then Eliz started to tell me something that surprised me… but that’s a story for another time.