Encounter

I’ve honestly not felt that legitimately scared in a long time. It was fight or flight, and I chose - no, I just defaulted to - flight. The jeans, the shirt, the arms, the hair, the corner of her glasses frame - it was her, I was certain of it. I had no clue why she was way out here, but it didn’t matter, I was gone. To the other side of the store I took off.

...and grabbed an extra $60 or so of toy junk that I actually didn’t need, though I did find some great clearance sale stuff, so it was somewhat useful.

What was she doing here? I’m a river and two counties away from Louisville, and yet I run into her here. Why this Meijer? Why today? I thought I was safe; it seemed she was moving deeper into Louisville, so my chances of running into her in Jeff - and especially here in New Albany - should be slim to none. But there she was, I think.

I had to go back, I wasn’t done getting food. Shaky as hell and mind scattered, I could no longer make proper decisions regarding what food I needed or wanted. The plan was to go aisle-to-aisle, picking up whatever we might need in the kitchen. Dry stuff in the cabinets and frozen junk were the priorities - just stocking up.

No, fuck that, apparently. Instead, the priorities were anxiety, hyper-vigilance, and avoiding staying in one place at a time. Back and forth, opposite sides of the food aisles section I went, hitting some aisles multiple times as I remember things I didn’t grab, actually check my list every once in a while, and simply to wait for a crowded aisle to clear.

Oh yeah.. and the crowd. What a fucking mess. Already out of it and not wanting to go out due to being sick and sleepy in the first place, I forgot that ~2pm on a Saturday - and not just any Saturday, but the Saturday before the Super Bowl - would be the worst time to go to the grocery. This may have been the pressure that prompted my anxiety to trigger. I can’t stand crowds, and there were sooo many people. Lots of people, lots of inconsideration, lots of people blocking aisles and almost running into me for seemingly no reason.

I fucking hate crowds.

But why was she here?! HERE? Was it really even her? Before I could let myself get lost in the cyclone of anxiety of pure fear wondering why I can’t have any place of my own without it being tainted with something I thought I escaped, I had to know if it was actually her. I’d feel pretty foolish if I got this worked up over a totally random stranger. ...right?

Fortunately - well, no, definitely unfortunately - as I darted through the various aisles, hitting some multiple times in hope of actually getting to the section that I needed to get food from in the first place, I ended up crossing paths with her a couple of times. I tried to use this to my advantage; trying to get quick, peripheral looks as I passed by or waited on old people making decisions between two of the exact same items.

All this did was push me over the edge. I was wearing thick clothes, so no one was the wiser, but I was so fucking shaky I almost dropped a box of pasta at one point. But I still couldn’t tell. Her hair covered her face quite expertly. Actually, did that, then, mean that she already noticed me (I wasn’t exactly disguised, and in fact, the hoodie I was wearing under my coat was one that I wore quite frequently when she and I were together… fuck this day sucks) and was trying to avoid being recognized by me? Would she not be the one to say something first?

No, that’s not what happened when she was at Penny’s. Then, she behaved much like I am now. Hrm, weird.

I kept thinking I’d just try approaching her. A simple “Hi,” or just asking if it was her. Except I had no emotional strength to pull off such a feat, and even the thought of saying her name aloud was horrifying. If it wasn’t her, I’d look like a fool and be embarrassed (by what is actually just a fairly common occurrence among people and should not be that embarrassing at all) - that’s actually what I wanted. It’d make this trip a hell of a lot easier if I just said something, somehow, and have her look up and it not be her. Then I could breathe. I might eventually stop shaking. But I couldn’t.

It seemed like the thing to do, but what if it was her? I’d be screwed. Trapped. Anything and everything could happen. Or nothing could happen. Who the fuck knows.

Okay, focus. I need food, and then I can just get the hell out of dodge. I may have seen her leaving the grocery area towards general merchandise, so I should be good.

Alright, let’s just check out, get totally immersed in scanning and bagging like the good ol’ days, and be on my way.

FUCK. Every lane is way backed up, and with my cart full, there’s no way in hell I’m getting to one of the self-checkout areas. God fucking dammit. God fucking dammit godfuckingdammit. Okay, it’s fine. Let’s just grab a lane and wait. I can play on my phone and not worry about it. Nope, headache has been building all day, and I can’t focus. Must. Remain. Vigilant. Look out for potential threats.

Scroll back through conversation with C. She’s my safe place, maybe re-reading through things instead of pestering her more would help calm me.

Shit. I forgot the mouthwash. And condoms. I’m way too far gone to deal with the social discomfort of getting and having someone else ring up condoms, but I’ll at least get mouthwash for C. And maybe me. I need to make myself use it.

Remaining vigilant, start heading back down to the personal care area and NOPENOPENOPE, opposite ends of the aisle, there she was. She reaches over to grab something off the shelf and I make a hard right as quick as I could (very difficult with an overloaded cart) and head the other way. Which, thankfully, was where the mouthwash was.

Pick one out, take the long way around and… Phew. She’s not already in line and my spot in the line I was in before is still there. Time to check out.

As I probably spend close to half an hour waiting in line for a slow, unmotivated teenager to check the customers ahead of me out, the same thoughts continue swirling in my head. What is she doing here? Why here? How far do I have to go to be safe? Has she noticed me?

She gets in the lane a few down from me. Avoid potential eye contact.

God dammit I’m sweating. Not necessarily from this (though likely exacerbated by this), but it was actually like 15 degrees warmer out than I expected when I wore my coat, and I’ve been running around the store with my coat on. Okay, coat off, let’s grab a nice, cold 20 oz. Sunkist to help cool me off.

Shit, that just exposes the hoodie and makes me more recognizable. Coat back on.

Her lane was apparently faster. She ends up checking out before I even start. Please, go out the door closest to you and be done. Please.

Nope, instead turns right and has to walk past me. I have to know. Is it her? Is it?

To be honest. I don’t know. It didn’t entirely look like her. Nose was more pointy, face was thinner. But it was DAMN close. As much as I see the same kinds of/looks of people over and over, this was a ridiculously close match. Almost exactly her in high school. Which, of course wouldn’t make sense, since she doesn’t even entirely look like that image anymore. Maybe my anxiety - built up by the crowd - skewed things. Maybe it wasn’t her. Hell, maybe it didn’t even really look like her.

Doesn’t matter. I’m in too deep. Empty, but shaken up worse than I’ve felt in a long, long time. I thought I was past this. Text C, head home.

Against all possible resistance, smarts, anything, open up Facebook Messenger, and ask “That wasn’t you I saw at Meijer today, was it?”

Why THE FUCK did I just do that? Years without contact and I break silence FOR THIS?
I wish I could remove it. As far as I know she hasn’t read it yet, I wish I could just undo it. Or, it might be slightly worth it if she said “No.”

But it’s been a few hours and she has not said anything. She probably never will. Just like the letter I never responded to after ending things, I will never get my answer.

The rest of the day will continue to be a mess. Just as I was derailed by the fucked up door installation yesterday, this has determined that today was a total waste. I’m sick of this. I could have done so much work this weekend.

Re-read the letter. Skim the emails. It’s been 4 years. Even just looking at photos of myself, not even having to read the words I wrote, it’s so blatantly clear I am a completely different person than I was back then. In almost every way.

What I cared about was different, how I approached life was different, my emotional intelligence, my maturity. I was someone else. I am someone else. This should not matter.

The headache is almost debilitating now. Time for another Ibuprofen and hoping I don’t have to go to bed early again.