I find when I walk down a crowded city sidewalk (and others will tell you
this as well) I seem to be looking for something. Searching for something
that doesn't seem to be there. Often times I don't know what I'm searching
for. But they do. They know me, I guess; how my mind works. And they were
there from the beginning. So they mention it.
"I wonder whatever happened to her," Langly says curiously.
Suzanne.
I still think about her a lot. All of the time, actually. The one time on my life I manage to find an amazing woman she is taken away from me, due to the very conspiracies, which I have now dedicated my life to fighting against. Suzanne was the only person I've ever known who filled the perpetual void--if even for a short time--that I have hidden in a remote corner of my heart. For two days, at least, I felt more complete than I ever had. And now, that emptiness is back; for nine long years it has stood; and so then has the memory of Suzanne Modeski. Sometimes I look at them and wonder if they ever knew exactly what I felt; how I felt and still feel about her. I wonder if Frohike knows how upset I was when he commented on her being "hot" (of course now I would have reacted differently, as I know that the most common words out of Frohike's mouth are along the lines of "she's hot" and are mostly to be regarded as the mindless babberings of a bachelor with too much time on his hands and no sex life). I wonder if they know how it affected me to meet Suzanne..... how much she impacted my life, how much she has altered it because of her small role. If it hadn't been for Suzanne, I would never have met these two loonies; I wouldn't be writing a magazine built upon underground government conspiracies if it weren't for her; I most certainly wouldn't be thinking this now. And then I wonder: Could I ever see her again? I laugh at myself every time I think about this. The chances of me--or anyone, for that matter--ever seeing Suzanne again are slim to none. The last time I saw her, she had terror in her eyes, and knowledge in her voice. As she was pulled into the black car and driven off, I knew deep in my heart (and I'm sure the others did also) that it was the last time anyone would ever see her alive. I think Langly understands. If not fully (which I doubt) then at least partially. He knows that Suzanne was killed that day, most likely very painfully. He knows that nothing happened to her other than the obvious, which is why "I wonder whatever happened to her" suddenly becomes a statement that actually means "I know you're thinking about her again, Byers....she's gone and I know you miss her." I'm glad he isn't like a real friend. Not in the sense that he doesn't care about me, but in the sense that he doesn't want to discuss what happened, or discuss anything in depth enough as to cause too much emotional regression. He knows how difficult it's been to get to this point alone; the years of therapy haven't been useless and he is no stranger to my emotional frailty.
When Suzanne left, or really, was taken from me, she took a piece of my soul with her. I'd never had a steady girlfriend; no one had ever seemed all that interested in me and when I saw Suzanne I just knew she was different. I know she wasn't exactly the model girlfriend; she had her share of government conspiracy and scandal following her and threatening her life; but this woman was special. I needed to help her. And God help me, I wouldn't change a minute of it. No matter how much it's scarred me, no matter how different things might have turned out if I'd never seen her walking by.....I wouldn't have given up knowing Suzanne for anything. When she kissed me, it was like time stood still. For four seconds, the entire planet stopped for us. All that existed was me, Suzanne, and that kiss. It wasn't like a normal kiss.....it was the first kiss from a soulmate. The other half of me. No, I'm not being overly romantic or crazy. I know within my heart (or what of it that Suzanne didn't take with her that day) that I will never again meet anyone like her. Never again will anyone touch my heart quite the way she did. Over the years I've worked on accepting this fate and move on with my life.
In a sense, this has worked. I no longer have problems with normal, everyday functions. My nightmares have all but stopped, and I can again visit the place where I last saw her. In another sense...it still hurts. Constant pain floods through my body, and at times, when alone on a street corner I can't help but break down into tears and ask God why he did this to me. Fate isn't this cruel, I tell myself, but deep down I know that it is. I should be happy that I got out of the entire ordeal alive. Suzanne wasn't meant to be in my life any longer than she was, and I should be thankful for the time that I did have with her. And I am. It is at this time I must remember that emotions don't recognize mental rationality. And I have no one to turn to. I have to remain as if nothing ever happened; concentrate on fulfilling the final wish that Suzanne said to the others and me. "You aren't paranoid enough" she had called over her shoulder as she ran down the sidewalk. Her final wish had been for us to fight against the conspiracies and underground illegalities that were going to ultimately kill her and possibly many others. Then she was gone.
I hang on; every day, I keep hoping that things will get better. I know she is gone. I know that I will never see her again. And yet, every time I find myself walking down a crowded city street, I stop and wonder.
And I've been told that I seem to be looking for something.
Copyright November 18, 1998
"I wonder whatever happened to her," Langly says curiously.
Suzanne.
I still think about her a lot. All of the time, actually. The one time on my life I manage to find an amazing woman she is taken away from me, due to the very conspiracies, which I have now dedicated my life to fighting against. Suzanne was the only person I've ever known who filled the perpetual void--if even for a short time--that I have hidden in a remote corner of my heart. For two days, at least, I felt more complete than I ever had. And now, that emptiness is back; for nine long years it has stood; and so then has the memory of Suzanne Modeski. Sometimes I look at them and wonder if they ever knew exactly what I felt; how I felt and still feel about her. I wonder if Frohike knows how upset I was when he commented on her being "hot" (of course now I would have reacted differently, as I know that the most common words out of Frohike's mouth are along the lines of "she's hot" and are mostly to be regarded as the mindless babberings of a bachelor with too much time on his hands and no sex life). I wonder if they know how it affected me to meet Suzanne..... how much she impacted my life, how much she has altered it because of her small role. If it hadn't been for Suzanne, I would never have met these two loonies; I wouldn't be writing a magazine built upon underground government conspiracies if it weren't for her; I most certainly wouldn't be thinking this now. And then I wonder: Could I ever see her again? I laugh at myself every time I think about this. The chances of me--or anyone, for that matter--ever seeing Suzanne again are slim to none. The last time I saw her, she had terror in her eyes, and knowledge in her voice. As she was pulled into the black car and driven off, I knew deep in my heart (and I'm sure the others did also) that it was the last time anyone would ever see her alive. I think Langly understands. If not fully (which I doubt) then at least partially. He knows that Suzanne was killed that day, most likely very painfully. He knows that nothing happened to her other than the obvious, which is why "I wonder whatever happened to her" suddenly becomes a statement that actually means "I know you're thinking about her again, Byers....she's gone and I know you miss her." I'm glad he isn't like a real friend. Not in the sense that he doesn't care about me, but in the sense that he doesn't want to discuss what happened, or discuss anything in depth enough as to cause too much emotional regression. He knows how difficult it's been to get to this point alone; the years of therapy haven't been useless and he is no stranger to my emotional frailty.
When Suzanne left, or really, was taken from me, she took a piece of my soul with her. I'd never had a steady girlfriend; no one had ever seemed all that interested in me and when I saw Suzanne I just knew she was different. I know she wasn't exactly the model girlfriend; she had her share of government conspiracy and scandal following her and threatening her life; but this woman was special. I needed to help her. And God help me, I wouldn't change a minute of it. No matter how much it's scarred me, no matter how different things might have turned out if I'd never seen her walking by.....I wouldn't have given up knowing Suzanne for anything. When she kissed me, it was like time stood still. For four seconds, the entire planet stopped for us. All that existed was me, Suzanne, and that kiss. It wasn't like a normal kiss.....it was the first kiss from a soulmate. The other half of me. No, I'm not being overly romantic or crazy. I know within my heart (or what of it that Suzanne didn't take with her that day) that I will never again meet anyone like her. Never again will anyone touch my heart quite the way she did. Over the years I've worked on accepting this fate and move on with my life.
In a sense, this has worked. I no longer have problems with normal, everyday functions. My nightmares have all but stopped, and I can again visit the place where I last saw her. In another sense...it still hurts. Constant pain floods through my body, and at times, when alone on a street corner I can't help but break down into tears and ask God why he did this to me. Fate isn't this cruel, I tell myself, but deep down I know that it is. I should be happy that I got out of the entire ordeal alive. Suzanne wasn't meant to be in my life any longer than she was, and I should be thankful for the time that I did have with her. And I am. It is at this time I must remember that emotions don't recognize mental rationality. And I have no one to turn to. I have to remain as if nothing ever happened; concentrate on fulfilling the final wish that Suzanne said to the others and me. "You aren't paranoid enough" she had called over her shoulder as she ran down the sidewalk. Her final wish had been for us to fight against the conspiracies and underground illegalities that were going to ultimately kill her and possibly many others. Then she was gone.
I hang on; every day, I keep hoping that things will get better. I know she is gone. I know that I will never see her again. And yet, every time I find myself walking down a crowded city street, I stop and wonder.
And I've been told that I seem to be looking for something.
Copyright November 18, 1998