I stood in the Wal-Mart aisle, my eyes opened wide and my mouth forming a perfect “O.” In the past five minutes, I saw a woman slap her child repeatedly because she was crying and a brother and a sister sliding on the dirty tiled floor. Welcome to El Paso.
I was in El Paso, Texas, for four days, and never in my life had it felt so strange to be back. Things were familiar to me, but at the same time, I felt like I had never been here. The thing that struck me the most, though, was that absolutely nothing has changed. While driving on the freeway, I noticed a new Walgreens and a store called Lowe’s, but other than that, El Paso is still El Paso. A border city, stagnant, but still home.
I came home for these few days to see Andy, my ex-boyfriend (I hate that term) because I hadn’t seen him in two months, and I felt it was slowly driving me crazy. I didn’t win him back, but that wasn’t my goal. What did happen was my realization, yet again, that he is the one for me.
I barreled down the seemingly endless tunnel from the plane, and I expected to see him waiting. I then met the reality of new airport security: No one other than passengers allowed at the gates. Grrrr.
I scurried down the stairs, my heart beating so fast and my shoulder aching from the heft of my bag. I saw him. In that instant I felt as if someone had knocked the wind out of me. I fell in love all over again. His hug instantly made everything feel right in the world.
I then knew that we were going to have to deal with the touching conundrum. Was it OK for me to grab his hand if I wanted to? Was a slight brush against the thigh going to be awkward? What do I do, I thought. This whole predicament came about, because, by definition, we were and are “just friends.”
Just friends. Two words in the English language that never should be paired together. Never should you precede the word friend by the word just, unless you are saying: The verdict was just, friends will be excited. When used the other way, however, it causes a whole mess of trouble.
As the first day went on, the awkwardness subsided and for a while, it seemed like everything was back to normal again. I had to slap myself several times and remind myself that things were far from OK. But I will get them there, I thought.
Soon, I will be on a plane back to Evanston. I can’t handle that. I want to stay here. I want to be here with him. I need to be here with him. I need to figure out what I am going to do about this. And soon.
I feel like I may have left a bad taste in your mouth about El Paso. All in all, it wasn’t that bad. And, oddly enough, I had the most amazing moment when we were at the OP, a highly sketchy and trashy dance club.
It was smoky, loud and dark. There was phat techno music and we were dancing. I was looking around and I saw throes of bodies moving in unison. I saw a boy with whom I went to grade school. I saw a guy with his shirt off attempting to impress a girl. Then I looked ahead and I saw Andy. Our eyes locked and we shared a small smile. My body was moving, but every other ounce of me was focused on him. In this one instant, I saw nothing but him, and I experienced this blissful feeling I can’t even begin to describe. It may sound cheesy, but it’s true.