Our Love Story (Chapter 3)

Have you read Chapter 1 and 2 yet? If not, you can catch up here and here. Here’s the third installment in the story of how Kyle and I met and fell into messy head-over-heels, leap-into-the-abyss, jump-in-front-of-a-train, live-in-a-garbage-can kind of love. Uh, just to clarify…we don’t ACTUALLY live in a garbage can. Okay.

Old School

A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen. 

-Edward de Bono

I had an interesting conversation with one of my professors about memory. There’s a theory that memory never stands still, that the process of remembering is a process of re-making our memories. Every time we retell a story, the details take on new significance and reorder the way that memory is stored in our brains. And the more important a story is, the more we tell it, and the more it becomes something other than “just the facts” because we can’t actually remember “the facts” exactly as they are. If that’s true, then memory can never be a duplicate of what exactly was but instead our impression of what was, colored and shaped and shaded by all the experiences and knowledge that has come after. Most of us don’t go through our day-to-day interactions thinking, I better remember this moment exactly because it might turn out to be the conversation that changes my life. But somehow, when I look back at these early conversations with Kyle, they take on a huge amount of significance.

I do remember the day Kyle came back to rehearsal. “We’re glad Kyle was able to come back and join us!” Courtney said at the cast meeting at the beginning of the night, gesturing to the back of the theatre where Kyle sat. And guys, I seriously do not know what possessed me but I suddenly, impulsively, without any real thought, jumped out of my seat and turned fully around to look back at him. “Hi, Kyle! We missed you!” I think people laughed. I don’t remember. Before he could say anything, before I could even feel the red flooding my cheeks, I whirled around and sat back down in my seat. Not before I caught him smiling a little. Good, I thought. I’m glad he smiled.

We circled up for warm-ups and I remember our eyes locking for a second. His face was tired, sad. He hadn’t slept for days but I didn’t know that yet.

Our first conversation was later. Maybe the next day.

I had brought my old walkman to review my lines before rehearsal and I had snuck into the back of the dark theatre to practice. Down on the stage, Kyle was mopping. He looked up and out into the audience to where I sat, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the bright stage lights. "That’s pretty old school,” he said, gesturing to the tape player in my hands.



And I reaaaaaaaaaaaaally wish I remember what I said back. Since I don’t know, I’ve taken the liberty of coming up with several options. You can vote below.

Did I say...

a. “Well, that’s just how I roll, bro-seph.”
b. “Your MOM is pretty old-school!”
c. “Hee hee, what?”
d. Long pause. “…Yeah.”

I remember wanting so badly to impress him. Something about the way he’d talked to me, the way he’d made that comment, so over the shoulder, off the cuff. It felt so cool. He felt so cool. Mysterious. Deep. Like he didn’t care that much. According to Kyle, he already cared a lot and was trying desperately to think of an icebreaker, any icebreaker.

So there we were. Both thinking the other couldn’t be cooler. But all of this was before the cast party…because let's not forget...I was still kind of dating a psychopath at the time.

To Be Continued

What do YOU think I probably said? Vote below!

love, elizabeth