Reconciliation
By
James Doyle
Pittsburgh
Spring 2013
My life at Carnegie Mellon University was a harried mess as I juggled at least a dozen projects, term papers, presentations, and exam preparations. I was living on a steady diet of caffeine and Gatorade, and my apartment had sunk well below my normal standards of cleanliness, save for my bed, which remained neatly made-up, owing to the fact that I hadn't slept in two weeks.
To my great surprise, I couldn't have been happier! Having eschewed all the pomp and circumstance of the Ivy League, I was doing the sort of engineering work that I knew would really make a difference in the world. Furthermore, I could be as big of a nerd as I wanted to be, and nobody cared. In fact, anybody could be anything they want. Some people would show up to class in shirts and ties; others would show up in their pajamas.
It was in this environment that I finally realized I didn't have to prove anything to anyone. I was finally finding fulfillment, not in the prestige that my work would bring, but in the work itself. For the first time in my life, I felt truly free. It was for that reason that I found myself scurrying about the spacious, architecturally-imposing campus, giddy as a schoolboy. I was so high on life that I nearly missed an announcement pasted on the bulletin board.
As big of a music school as CMU was, I saw fliers for junior recitals all the time, and I normally wouldn't have given it a second look. However, the name on this particular flier jumped out at me like I'd just put on 3D glasses.
Barbara Brownstein. There was a name I hadn't heard in years. I'd lost touch with Barbara after she'd begun dating my old friend Bob. Him I still kept semi-regular contact with, but I hadn't heard anything about Barbara from him since they'd broke up at the beginning of senior year. I couldn't believe we'd been at the same school for the past three years and not even realized it.
My curiosity got the better of me, and I seized the flier from the board, scanning it for more details. The recital was scheduled for that evening. I deliberated with myself for several minutes as to whether I should skip the three project group meetings I'd scheduled. Eventually, I relented and made a few quick phone calls to several justifiably-unhappy classmates.
That evening, I donned my coat and tie and made my way over to the auditorium in Kresge Hall. I took in the second-to-last row of the visually-unappealing yet acoustically-pleasing venue. Some people I didn't know filled in around me, and before I knew it, the applause rose as the performer took the stage.
Even though I'd brought my opera glasses, I didn't need them, as my eyes zoomed in of their own accord upon the Asian beauty. Clad in concert black, she looked positively stunning. She hadn't grown but an inch or two, but she made up for it by carrying herself with a good deal more confidence. She had dispensed with her glasses in favor of contact lenses, and curled her straight, jet-black hair.
Her selections for the evening included pieces by Bach, Bartok, and Hartmann. Normally, when I attended concerts, I would pick apart the musicians' interpretation, in any way I could think of, on both technical and artistic merits. Sometimes, I'd actually have the opportunity to discuss it with the musicians themselves, earning me the scorn of most of them.
I made no such assessment of Barbara's performance. There was no way I could have. The sight of the woman I'd loved so long ago, combined with the all-to-familiar emotions she poured out through her bow upon the strings, intoxicated me and carried me away. If I applauded at all, my hands were moving of their own volition. In my mind, there was only me, Barbara, and the sweet sounds emanating from her instrument.
"Bravo!" I shouted with abandon as I let myself be the first to rise to my feet at the end of the final piece. The people seated around me followed suit, and soon after, the entire auditorium with them. I could see tears streaming down Barbara's face as she took a bow. Clearly, she had not expected such an ovation.
Most of the audience made a hasty exit, but a few, including myself, remained behind for a small reception out in the main lobby. I stood at some distance, not sure if I should approach her or not. Barbara eventually solved that dilemma for me, as she excused herself from the company of the professors she spoke with, and slowly made her way toward me.
"Cody?" Barbara called out somewhat incredulously. "Cody Martin?"
"Hi, Barbara," I replied sheepishly.
"I thought that was you!" she cried as she ran up to me and threw her arms around me.
"Yeah, it's me," I confirmed, finally feeling comfortable enough to return her embrace.
"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed as she let go of me. "How have you been?"
"Great," I reported sincerely. "Busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest, but great."
"Oh gosh, me too," she sympathized. "Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but what brings you here?"
"I go to school here," I answered. "I honestly had no idea that you did, too."
"Wow, small world," marveled Barbara. "So if I had to guess, I'd say you're an engineering major."
"Good guess," I affirmed. "Environmental engineering."
"That's awesome," approved Barbara.
Just then, my phone beeped a reminder at me.
"Speaking of which," I sighed. "That was to remind me of the one group meeting I couldn't get out of tonight."
"I see," lamented Barbara. "Well, it was good seeing you."
"Yeah," I reciprocated. "You too."
As I started to walk away, something inside of me pulled me back. I didn't know at that time what it was, but somehow I knew I couldn't let her out of my life again.
"Barbara," I called out as I turned around.
"Yes, Cody?"
"I was wondering," I began. "There's this place over in Shadyside where me and my engineering buddies like to go unwind. If you're not busy Friday night, maybe you'd like to have a drink with me."
"I was planning on putting in some lab time," answered Barbara. "But I'm sure I can rearrange my schedule."
"Awesome," I exclaimed.
Barbara quickly jotted down her dorm room number before scurrying off to entertain the last of her guests.
Friday evening, I waited in the lobby of Barbara's dorm building, dressed somewhat more casually than I had for the recital. My ex arrived promptly at nine o'clock, clad in a denim skirt and a sweater, but looking no less amazing than she had on stage.
"Hi," she said timidly.
"Hi," I replied, just as awkwardly.
"Shall we?" I said, leading the way. I wasn't sure whether to offer her an arm, and decided not to, as she didn't seem to be making any motions in that direction.
A brisk walk and a short bus ride brought us to my favorite pub, a popular-but-classy establishment that served a wide variety of imported beers. I ordered myself a Leute Bok. Not expecting Barbara to know anything about beer, she surprised me by ordering a Corsendonk Brown Ale.
"Never would've figured you for a connoisseur," I observed, breaking the ice.
"They seem to love their beer here in Pittsburgh," noted Barbara. "So I thought I'd acquire a taste for something better than the common swill."
"To old friends, and new beginnings," I proposed, raising my mug.
"Here, here," agreed Barbara, accepting my toast.
"So I thought for sure you'd be at an Ivy League school," noted Barbara.
"CMU's just as good," I explained, "But without all the hype. Besides, my parents played a gig in Pittsburgh way back when. It seemed like a nice enough place."
"Makes sense," said Barbara. "I kind of wanted to get away from Boston, too. And really, Pittsburgh's the place to be for classical musicians."
I nodded. "One of the best orchestras in the world, and several of the best music schools."
"Still," continued Barbara. "Living on this much dry land must be quite a change after living at sea all that time."
I frowned. "Believe me, I needed it."
Somehow, Barbara could sense where my mind was going.
"Did anything ever happen with that Bailey girl?" she inquired.
"We had something," I answered. "But that's ancient history. I haven't heard from her in years."
"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry," Barbara apologized. "I didn't mean to drag you through that all over again."
"No, it's okay," I assured her. "Bailey and I both had a lot of personal issues to work through. I don't think either of us was really ready for a committed relationship. To tell you the truth, it's mostly my fault."
"Cody, I'm sure it's not," consoled Barbara. "Tell me, what happened?"
"Are you sure you want to hear this?" I warned.
Barbara nodded in the affirmative.
"Okay," I relented with a sigh. "Here goes."
From there, I proceeded to tell Barbara about the rise and decline of my relationship with Bailey. I told her of my stalkerish obsession with her, and how I'd started making plans for our future before I even really knew her at all. I told her of how our relationship got started over a pair of Hannah Montana tickets.
I spoke of how perfect our relationship had seemed at first, how well-matched we were intellectually. Soon after, my old insecurities had gotten the better of me, and I'd misapplied my brother Zack's style of bravado to build myself up.
Before either of us knew it, I'd created a monster. I'd always felt like I had to wear the pants in the relationship, and that I had to be the tiniest bit better than Bailey at everything. I even built myself up to the point of thinking I was the "total package," deluding myself into thinking Bailey and my old love-interest Jessica were jealous of one another over me, despite the total lack of evidence thereof.
I told of how Bailey had tried to play my game. Perhaps she thought being better than me would teach me some humility. Instead, it further fueled my delusions of grandeur. Every day, she became more bitter and withdrawn from her friends. Indeed, in her efforts to somehow relate to me, she'd become like me.
I told of the demise of my relationship with Bailey. Being the control freak that I was, our one-year anniversary celebration in Paris had to be absolutely perfect. Through a series of convoluted circumstances, we'd both seen something that led us to believe the other was cheating. It had become obvious at that point that we didn't trust one another.
Bailey was willing to move forward and work through it. I, unfortunately, was not. We got into a fight, where I tried to blame everything on her. I knew this wasn't true, but I was too prideful to admit it. Finally, neither of us could take it anymore, and our relationship came to a bitter, tearful end.
Finally, I told of the aftermath of our relationship. With my toxic influence out of her life, the Bailey I knew and loved started to re-emerge. She began to bond with her friends, and pursue the things she loved without having to one-up anyone. At the same time, my brother Zack fell in love with a girl named Maya (a girl he was still with to date.) She led him on a voyage of self-discovery that ultimately spilled over into my life. As Bailey and I steadily grew further apart, I realized this was the best thing for her.
"I'm so sorry, Cody," sympathized Barbara.
"It's okay," I assured her. "Bailey and I were on a path of self-destruction, and we're both better people now that we've gone our separate ways. I know she's happy and prosperous, wherever she is."
"Just like I knew you would be," added Barbara.
"Really?" I reacted.
"Yeah," she continued. "Cody, we may have lost touch, but I never stopped thinking about you."
"Me either," I reciprocated. "I mean, about you."
Barbara giggled. "I knew what you meant."
Since the pub was the sort of place where one could only afford one drink, Barbara and I left only mildly tipsy, and decided to take a long walk back to campus. I'm not sure when, but at some point, I'd taken her hand.
"So are you seeing anyone these days?" inquired Barbara.
"Nah, I don't have time," I explained. "What about you?"
Barbara shook her head. "Most of the guys in the music school are either gay or hopelessly full of themselves."
"Or both," I added.
Barbara laughed. "Yeah, there's plenty of those, too."
"Well," I pontificated, "Sooner or later, they'll figure out that the world was spinning long before they came along, and will keep spinning just the same long after they're gone."
"Of course it will," agreed Barbara. "Conservation of angular momentum."
I couldn't help but burst out laughing at that comment.
"Oy gevalt," reacted Barbara. "It wasn't that funny."
"Maybe not," I granted. "It just reminds me of how much I've missed your sense of humor."
"And I yours," agreed Barbara. "I've missed a lot of things about you, Cody."
My only response to that was a smile. For the next few blocks, we said nothing, merely enjoying one another's company.
"Oh gosh," observed Barbara. "Is it two in the morning already?"
"I'm afraid so," I confirmed. "My apartment's not too far from here. I could drive you the rest of the way."
"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" worried Barbara.
"I'm fine," I assured her.
We arrived about two minutes later, only to find that I locked my keys inside.
"Not to worry," I said, retrieving my spare key from behind a loose brick. "I'll just go inside and get them."
"You know, I'm probably not good for much tomorrow, anyway," noted Barbara. "Why don't you give me the grand tour?"
"Um, okay," I agreed sheepishly, showing her in.
"There's really not much to see," I continued as we reached the top of the stairs. "This here's the kitchen. It leads into the living room, with the Xbox we never have time to play. The bathroom's on the right, my roommate's room is just to your left, and my room is just past it."
"We shouldn't be too loud," cautioned Barbara. "We might wake him."
"Nah, he's at a conference in DC," I explained. "He won't be back until Tuesday."
For the final stop, I showed Barbara into my room.
"Well, on the rare occasion that I actually sleep," I narrated, "This is where I do it."
Barbara giggled at the last two words of that sentence.
"Bad choice of words," I said. "Anyway, sorry it's so messy in here."
"No, it's great," replied Barbara, taking a seat on my bed. "It actually looks lived-in. Shows me how much you've lightened-up."
"You too," I added. "I guess some time apart did us good."
"I guess," said Barbara. "But I'm really glad we found each other again."
"I'm glad, too," I reciprocated, taking a seat beside her.
We sat in a moment of awkward silence before we turned slowly toward one another, and our eyes met.
"Gosh, you're beautiful," I marveled as I dared to gently stroke her cheekbone. It was only then that I'd noticed that she'd opted to wear her glasses that evening. It was because of them that I saw the face of the girl I'd fallen for so long ago. I removed her glasses, set them aside lovingly, and slowly pressed my lips to hers.
Our lips parted for a brief moment as we both took in what was happening. I suppose we both decided that we wanted it, because our lips came together once again, this time opening for a kiss more passionate and sensual than we'd ever dared allow ourselves in our junior high years. We emerged some time later, both of us breathless.
"I love you, Cody," confessed Barbara. "I never stopped loving you."
"I love you, too," I reciprocated.
With that we moved together once again for an even deeper, more breathtaking kiss, sending one another to heights unknown as we caressed one another's tongues. Our hands roamed throughout the kiss, and continued to do so as we parted. Before I knew it, Barbara had begun unbuttoning my shirt.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Absolutely," answered Barbara.
I'd surrendered my virginity to Bailey, and I was certain I wouldn't be Barbara's first, either. It didn't matter. That night, we made love, giving expression, at long last, to the passions we were finally old and wise enough to express.
I awoke the next morning to feeling of dark-haired lover's lips upon mine. Even though our breaths were ferocious, we parted our lips and engaged in a kiss that served as an encore to the previous night's performance.
"Mmm, morning," she cooed.
"Good morning to you, too," I said softly.
"As magical as this has been," lamented Barbara. "I do actually have to get some work done today."
I sighed. "Yeah, me too."
We both grabbed a quick shower, then I escorted Barbara back to her dorm so she could change clothes before tackling the rest of her day. We kissed one last time before parting.
"Do you think we'll get it right this time?" wondered Barbara.
"I hope so," I replied.
"Me too," she reciprocated.
I let go of her hand ever so slowly, finally releasing her to the obligations of her music studies. As I walked away, I realized that I had done some horrible things, and that I would always have regrets. Nonetheless, I could take some comfort knowing that one of the people I'd hurt had not only forgiven me, but had welcomed me back into her heart.
And thus, the life I was meant to live began, with a grand reconciliation.
The End
The pub Cody and Barbara went to is based on a real establishment in Pittsburgh called The Sharp Edge.
I wrote this story to try and redeem two characters I've not been too impressed with of late, namely, Cody and Barbara. I hope I did them justice.
Thanks for reading!