towards my car. “A couple of rounds, and then I’m heading home. See you out there.”
The first lap around the track is nice and easy. I’m warming Angie up and trying to get my bearings. Anyone who’s ever been in a car so sleek and powerful knows the thrill and exhilaration of speed. I’m confident and ready to go as I turn on to start my second lap. I glance at the speedometer and I’m clocking 140 mph, all good. A few seconds later, as I approach a hairpin corner, a huge bolt of lightning touches ground right in front of me, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. A deluge of rain blinds me for a moment and before I can react, I’ve hit the two tractor tires lined up against the embankment. My front wheels catch and I’m airborne. I can see myself in slow motion as the car flips in the air, hits the ground and bounces back up.
It’s all happening so slowly, I have time to reflect and pray. The glove box pops open and our folded Terms and Conditions tumbles out; I see myself as a little child, jumping into the pool without water, my trip to Rome, our hotel in Greece, my childhood home in Boston. I see Eddie in my arms just as he is born and my beautiful Maddy baby in her stroller.
“ Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee.”
And then I see her. I see her and the stillness takes me over. I see her resplendent face, her flawless body, her flowing hair, her soulful eyes, her elegant fingers.
All I see is her.
I see her everywhere and in everything.
And then I see nothing.
***
***
“Isa, when we see each other again, whether it’s tomorrow or next week or years and years from now. Whenever you see me. Look into my eyes from across the room wherever I am, wherever you are, and know that I LOVE…YOU. That’s never going to change. Look into my eyes now and feel it. It will always be only you, no matter what, no matter when.”
—Jesse to Isabel, The Light in the Wound
Man, am I exhausted. I just got from a business trip and am trying to wind down in front of my TV. Rose is in the kitchen whipping up something for us to eat. I haven’t seen her in a week and I’m slowly admitting to myself that I’m glad she’s here, that we’re living together and engaged to be married. Everything has just been so crazy in the past year that we seem to keep waffling on a date. It will happen soon. I love her. If you knew my life, you would understand how just saying those three words is a huge deal for a guy like me. I’ve been stuck in limbo for too many years, pining over a woman I can never have. And while it’s taken me a long time to accept things as they are, I think I finally have. And I’m not blowing this if it means cutting down on my busy schedule to make room for wedding planning and baby planning and whatever the hell else she wants.
I glance away from the television briefly to watch her as she moves around the kitchen. She’s a very pretty girl—jet black hair and round wide eyes, darker olive skin, long and lean but well built in the right places. Her looks, her demeanor, her mannerisms are nothing like Isabel’s. For one, she’s a jeans and sneakers kind of girl. She loves the outdoors, is fascinated by haunted houses, and teaches belly dancing. She’s a spitfire who doesn’t hesitate to tell it like it is. And maybe that’s what I need. I need a change. Thinking about Rose makes me want to touch her, so I walk over to the kitchen, sneak up behind her and pull her towards me. She’s always so sweet and willing; she immediately turns around to face me, giving me free access to her mouth.
We’re suddenly interrupted by the ringing of my phone. I’m probably the only guy in the world that doesn’t have a ringtone; it’s the standard beeping sound that comes with every cell phone. I don’t know. I’ve always been a no frills kind of guy, I guess. No amount of material success has been able to change that functional side of me. I give
The first lap around the track is nice and easy. I’m warming Angie up and trying to get my bearings. Anyone who’s ever been in a car so sleek and powerful knows the thrill and exhilaration of speed. I’m confident and ready to go as I turn on to start my second lap. I glance at the speedometer and I’m clocking 140 mph, all good. A few seconds later, as I approach a hairpin corner, a huge bolt of lightning touches ground right in front of me, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. A deluge of rain blinds me for a moment and before I can react, I’ve hit the two tractor tires lined up against the embankment. My front wheels catch and I’m airborne. I can see myself in slow motion as the car flips in the air, hits the ground and bounces back up.
It’s all happening so slowly, I have time to reflect and pray. The glove box pops open and our folded Terms and Conditions tumbles out; I see myself as a little child, jumping into the pool without water, my trip to Rome, our hotel in Greece, my childhood home in Boston. I see Eddie in my arms just as he is born and my beautiful Maddy baby in her stroller.
“ Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee.”
And then I see her. I see her and the stillness takes me over. I see her resplendent face, her flawless body, her flowing hair, her soulful eyes, her elegant fingers.
All I see is her.
I see her everywhere and in everything.
And then I see nothing.
***
***
“Isa, when we see each other again, whether it’s tomorrow or next week or years and years from now. Whenever you see me. Look into my eyes from across the room wherever I am, wherever you are, and know that I LOVE…YOU. That’s never going to change. Look into my eyes now and feel it. It will always be only you, no matter what, no matter when.”
—Jesse to Isabel, The Light in the Wound
Man, am I exhausted. I just got from a business trip and am trying to wind down in front of my TV. Rose is in the kitchen whipping up something for us to eat. I haven’t seen her in a week and I’m slowly admitting to myself that I’m glad she’s here, that we’re living together and engaged to be married. Everything has just been so crazy in the past year that we seem to keep waffling on a date. It will happen soon. I love her. If you knew my life, you would understand how just saying those three words is a huge deal for a guy like me. I’ve been stuck in limbo for too many years, pining over a woman I can never have. And while it’s taken me a long time to accept things as they are, I think I finally have. And I’m not blowing this if it means cutting down on my busy schedule to make room for wedding planning and baby planning and whatever the hell else she wants.
I glance away from the television briefly to watch her as she moves around the kitchen. She’s a very pretty girl—jet black hair and round wide eyes, darker olive skin, long and lean but well built in the right places. Her looks, her demeanor, her mannerisms are nothing like Isabel’s. For one, she’s a jeans and sneakers kind of girl. She loves the outdoors, is fascinated by haunted houses, and teaches belly dancing. She’s a spitfire who doesn’t hesitate to tell it like it is. And maybe that’s what I need. I need a change. Thinking about Rose makes me want to touch her, so I walk over to the kitchen, sneak up behind her and pull her towards me. She’s always so sweet and willing; she immediately turns around to face me, giving me free access to her mouth.
We’re suddenly interrupted by the ringing of my phone. I’m probably the only guy in the world that doesn’t have a ringtone; it’s the standard beeping sound that comes with every cell phone. I don’t know. I’ve always been a no frills kind of guy, I guess. No amount of material success has been able to change that functional side of me. I give
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