Julian
Thinking Carmella was the embodiment of what I wanted, I had wrongly pushed Elowen to become her.
Sinking back into my chair, the leather creaks beneath me.
The coffee Carmella brought sits untouched, growing cold beside the stack of proposals I’ll never read.
She was right about one thing: I am dealing with regrets, but not the ones she imagines.
My phone sits silent on the desk with no new messages from Elowen. Please communicate only about the children from now on.
Since I cannot message her, I open my laptop to look for her instead.
Reaching for my laptop, I notice my hands are steadier than they’ve been all day.
My search begins. Her name isn’t Elowen Plaza on social media.
I know because the search results show nothing.
It takes a full minute of staring at the blank screen to remember her maiden name was Fallinger.
Just seeing it typed in the search bar feels like admitting defeat.
She is using her maiden name to put distance between our lives.
I want to blame my bad memory on our old texting mix-up, but the truth is simpler: once she met my criteria, I replaced her name with mine.
And now she is leaving it behind.
The Elowen Fallinger profile appears instantly. I’m not on social media, so I’ll admit, we weren’t “friends” there.
The profile picture stops me short. Having seen her at the gala, I already knew about her haircut and natural curls, but she’d been wearing makeup at the gala, and this picture shows a more natural look.
My finger hovers over the screen, as if I could touch her through the glass.
As if I have any right to. I drop my hand; it’s been days since I’ve cleaned my screen, anyway.
I scroll down. The most recent post shows Elowen holding a one-eyed orange cat, her expression soft with affection. The caption reads: Cyclops and I are both learning to see the world differently.
Cyclops is a cruel thing to name a one-eyed cat. I’ll keep that to myself, though.
In another photo, Elowen is in jeans and a denim jacket.
She’s surrounded by others, all wearing the same outfit.
At first, I wonder if Elowen has joined some sort of cult, but then I remember hearing about the shelter.
She was advocating for animals at the gala, and that explains why she’s holding a cruelly named one-eyed cat.
It’s then that I read the caption. Love it here.
If you have time in your schedule, come on out to volunteer!
#SKCAS #TheSeattleKingCoAnimalShelter #Nowacceptingdonationsonline
Why is my wife using so many octothorps?
I continue scrolling. A video starts automatically.
It’s of Meredith, fearless as always, standing beside an enormous dog that could easily knock her over with a wag of its tail.
But the animal sits patiently while my daughter chatters away, explaining to someone off-camera that “he’s a very good boy who just needs extra love because people thought he was too big. ”
My daughter, full of traits she inherited from her mother. My chest tightens with a feeling I can’t immediately identify. It’s not quite pain, not quite regret.
I continue to scroll, and another photo appears.
This one shows Leo sitting cross-legged on the floor of what appears to be a “cat socialization room.” Unlike his sister’s bold approach, Leo extends one careful hand toward a gray cat that watches him warily from the safety of a cat tree.
The caption reads: Sometimes the most meaningful connections happen at a distance.
Leo and Buttons understand each other perfectly.
I touch the screen then, tracing the outline of my son’s serious face. He looks so much like me. The only difference physically between him and I are our hair and noses.
Both are things I either tried to get Elowen to change about herself, or I added to a stupid college list as a negative about her.
Fuck!
I drop my hand from the screen, the cold glass offering no comfort.
In every photo, the same thing strikes me.
Elowen looks alive in a way she never did before, but so do my children.
They are all thriving in a world I have no part in, leaving me to watch them grow through a screen.
I want to hear Meredith’s endless chatter, and I want to see the quiet focus in Leo’s eyes.
I want to know the people they are becoming.
And most definitely, I want to hear my wife’s laugh and feel her calmness.
Elowen’s text message replays in my mind. Please communicate only about the children from now on. I want to be in that place, too. Not as the Julian Plaza who appears in newspaper headlines and corporate annual reports, but as the person Elowen once saw something worthy in.
Starting with the two perfect pieces of us I miss the most, I pick up my phone. Respecting her terms, I type a simple message and press send before I can overthink it.
I’d like to see Leo and Meredith this weekend. At your convenience. No pressure. Thank you.