Page 2 of Strange Love

But as I sit here, sipping on my wine and listening to the chatter around me, I consciously push these thoughts aside in an attempt to enjoy the evening. The crisp air fills my lungs as I take a deep breath, trying to let go and allow myself to believe that anything is possible.

Sascha leans her head onto my shoulder and whispers, “I know this is hard for you.” I squeeze her hand and lean down to kiss the top of her head, grateful for her understanding. Maybe he won’t even be there? I think to myself and then brush that ridiculous thought away. Of course, he will be there. He’s Sarah’s cousin and hasn’t been home for five years. I’m sure his mom would kill him if he didn’t make time in his busy hockey-playing, model-dating life to come to the wedding.

My God— has it been that long? Has it been five years? Five years since our strange relationship ended abruptly when he left for college in Boston to play hockey. At the same time, I stayed behind, paralyzed by the uncertainty of the future and haunted by memories of our time together. Most days, I’m an expert at compartmentalizing, but today, those memories bubble to the surface without warning.

“Remember when we used to play outside until it got dark?” Amy asks.

“Yeah, those were the days,” Michelle chimes in wistfully.

“Even though we were always so scared of getting kidnapped,” Amy says, and my heart rate spikes. Sascha shifts uncomfortably in her seat while Misty lets out a small laugh.

“That’s right! We were all afraid of strangers and being snatched,” Misty says with a hint of amusement.

“Don’t forget quicksand,” Michelle adds with a laugh.

“And the Bermuda Triangle,” Amy chimes in, swirling her glass of wine.

“And Jaws,“ Michelle shudders.

“That doesn’t count,” Misty chuckles. “That’s still terrifying.”

“Cults,” I say casually, causing Sascha and Kerri to look at me with wide, questioning eyes.

Amy nods solemnly. “What was up with all the cults in the 70s and 80s? Like The Manson Family. And that one in California…”

Misty leans in, focusing her brow in thought.

“People’s Temple,” I say quietly. “Although, they left for Guyana and never returned.”

We all sip our drinks before Michelle breaks the silence, “Why would anyone join something like that? It’s crazy.”

I nod solemnly, my eyes flickering to the floor as I remember my experience. The group falls silent, their expressions shifting from curiosity to concern.

I take a deep breath, “There’s a lot of psychology behind it. A cult leader has a magnetic personality and preys on outcasts who desperately want to be part of something. They use mind control techniques to separate members from their family and friends, making them feel that even if they did want to leave, they would have nothing to go back to.”

“Creepy,” Amy shudders, her hand trembling slightly as she sips her wine.

“How can one person have so much control over others?” Michelle asks, her voice laced with disbelief. “Like Charles Manson. Why did people follow that freak?”

I explain calmly, “He’s a true psychopath with a grandiose sense of self and the ability to manipulate others.” Not unlike someone else from my past. “It’s a truly terrifying combination.”

The mood in the room lightens slightly as Michelle chimes in, “Remember when pre-Bobby Brown Whitney just wanted to dance with somebody?” She clinks her wine glass against Misty’s in agreement.

“Do you guys have any idea how excited I am about tomorrow? I can’t wait to meet Corey Delacour and Michael Tazman in person,” Michelle blurts out, once again turning the conversation in a direction I generally avoid. “I mean, they are both so fine. I can’t believe Sarah is related to a pro hockey player.”

“He’s not a pro yet.” Sascha scoffs next to me as I become immersed in a haze, lost in memories of a life that feels like a distant dream. Kerri breaks through my fog by leaning forward and placing her warm hand on my arm. I blink and focus on her concerned face.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly.

I take a deep breath and try to shake off my melancholy. My eyes dart around the restaurant before settling on Kerri’s kind gaze. A small smile forms on my lips as I lean toward her.

Can I say that I’m okay? I’m not entirely sure I am. With everyone here together again, it’s only a matter of time before the past resurfaces. My high school friend group, the girls and the guys, haven’t been together like this in years, and I can already feel the weight of unresolved issues hanging heavy in the air. It’s better to address them now than to pretend everything is fine and wait for things to blow up later. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s my intention to tell the story my own way, but the next words out of my mouth surprise even me.

“So,” I start, “Speaking of famous hockey players, I have a crazy story to tell you guys.”

Michelle, sitting across from us, leans forward eagerly. “Ooohh, tell us!” she urges.

I hesitantly agree, knowing that sharing this memory will dredge up more emotions. “It’s not exactly a happy one,” I warn them. “It’s about a girl who loses the love of her life to his dreams of playing professional hockey, and she is about to run into him for the first time since he left. Sounds dramatic, but it gets even crazier.”