There's Nothing in this World to Stop Me Worrying About That Girl

As Em lay against me while watching a movie, it occurred to me that I had not been content for a long time. The moment was the culmination of 15 years, a brief glimpse into what could have been before it would eventually collapse. 

Knowing it would end was bittersweet, but for the moment I was happy simply being there and I told her so.

I first met Em while working at an NGO in Armenia. The office was located over the central post office and had a view overlooking the city. Em, kindhearted as she was, was the only person in that office who was immediately friendly toward me. 

We got to know one another fairly quickly and I felt we had a connection. I had left the NGO, but continued to be in contact with Em, looking for the courage to tell her how I felt, but when I finally found it, it was too late. She was gone.

Later, my former boss asked me to do some video editing for a concert. A band had come to my home to look over the visuals I had compiled, and with them was Em, her new husband being a member of the band. 

When I left Armenia, I lost contact with many of the people I had called friends out of negligence. I ceased contact with Em out of something else. But one day, sitting alone in a house in San Francisco,  I picked up my phone and sent a message. 

”Hello.” 

Over the next few weeks we began to chat back and forth nearly everyday. The topic of attraction came up, and it was revealed that ours had been mutual. Clearly something was still there, and it was blunt,  and there was a lot of talk about making the future work somehow, but the reality was I was halfway around the world and she was still married. 

As things escalated she told me she could no longer talk to me and went silent. 

Not too long after my father became ill and I was chosen to take care of him. Daily visits to the doctor, to radiation therapy, to chemotherapy, to the recovery facility, and so on dominated my life. It was a miserable and lonely time, but also necessary, even if the end result was his passing. 

Adrift, my brother invited me into his home, and for a year I lived with him and his family in South Bay with the intent of eventually moving back to Armenia. As that mission became realized I was once again in contact with Em. 

Again our contact became more frequent, and there was a hint that maybe something more could happen now that I was returning to Armenia and she was no longer married. But, a few weeks before my arrival she informed me that she had reunited with her boyfriend, and again my hopes were dashed. 

I returned to Armenia, began my new job and slowly settled into a routine. I saw Em on occasion, and we spoke with some frequency. Then, one night she came over, upset, despondent, confused and upset. She spoke about her relationship, a topic that was curious to me but one that I tried never to bring up. 

And then we kissed. 

And then she was gone again. 

The next time I saw Em, she was in a relationship with someone new. 

For a moment though, she was laying next to me, and it was quiet, and there was no one else. I knew it would end, because it always ended. And soon enough she was gone once more. Not disappeared like before, but with the tacit understanding that this was not to be. 

I thought about something my mother said when I showed her Em’s photo years before: “She’s pretty. What does she see in you?”

Whatever Em saw, clearly it was not enough.