Back Against the Wall
Did I mention that I’ve been here before –- on the island, alone, looking for Maria?
I just realized you might not know that. Brill does, and Rose. I don’t think my mother does. But two years ago, I left D.C. soon after Maria did and followed her here. I didn’t know where to find her, in September 2010, but I do now.
I don’t why I felt compelled to relive that week –- all its insecurity and isolation — again. I am not the same person I was. I’m not broke. I don’t know any more Spanish than I did four years ago, but I’ve lived in New York City and learned a few things about how the world works. Of course, the important things about oneself usually don’t change all that much. I am as sincere about what I’ve come to do this time, as I was the last time. I still want to marry Maria.
I’ve relived the first week I came in search of her. I’ve slept on the beach on the edge of La Perla, walked around Old San Juan, taken the bus to El Yunque –- gathered my courage to return to the Poetry Passage. I suppose I’m crazy, in a way. I just needed to remember, in a physical way, what I felt then. I feel the same: uncertain, heartsick, yet determined. Again, I’ve needed to collect my thoughts and focus my intention: Is it right, is it just what I am doing?
If I still love Maria after four years, shouldn’t I let her know? I can’t let the distance stand. Sometimes, a guy has to cut loose from the emails, texts, and phone calls and actually show up.