Friday, March 30, 2007

Terminal 2 (part II)

Not long ago, C wrote a song for me.

I would like to share it with all of you.

(if ....someone can help me and explain to me how to insert an audio file here?)

Thanks a lot.

x

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Terminal 2 (part I)

A day like today but three years ago I was arriving at Terminal 2 of Manchester Airport.

That day, I met C for real.

I had already met him previously, when two years before that date, I was planning my trip around the UK.

Here is the story.
................................................................................................................................................................

I split up with my previous partner and father of my two oldest kids when B, my daughter, was not even 1 year old.

After fifteen years of being -and growing- together, the separation was a shock for my family and everybody around me. People used to think we were a couple in perfect armony. Far from that, and despite all the time we were together, we were like strangers and I was feeling more and more lonely and isolated. But that is part of another story that I am not going to remember now.

Suddenly but not surprisingly for me, I was really on my own. It was just me and my two kids. I overcame tough moments, I grew stronger, I learnt. The experience of having to deal with that turbulent period in my life, made me a lot more independent. I had the necessity of building up my self steem, I had to take decisions on my own. I went on a therapy and eventually, I was aware I started to feel lighter, I realized how heavy the burden of that relationship was to me.

Wind of changes.

During the next couple of years I became another person. The one I almost had forgotten I used to be and, one day, I noticed there was a huge smile again back on my face.

The kids were growing and accepting well our separation and I started to think it was my time to organize this trip I had always dreamt of.

Destiny: England, Ireland, Scotland.

Two months around the UK on my own.

I spent months studying and deciding places, days. I didn't want the typical UK for tourists. My idea was to spend those weeks as much as any other local british as possible. I wanted to live their culture, to relieve its past through its rich history and to experience the present to the most.

I was continuosly checking on the web places to visit, deciding where to stay, how to travel from here to there, etc..

Because a good friend of mine had insisted, I had installed the ICQ programme on my pc to communicate with a common friend abroad. To be honest, I founded the whole concept very silly, superfluous, almost useless.

However, there I was, organizing my travel to the UK and... just for fun and because the ICQ was open, I made some research...

I thought that if I was lucky, someone may help me with some aspects of my trip that still were a bit in the dark. However, deep inside, I was almost challenging that programme to do something useful to me. I was incredulous, I wanted to justify the space it was occupying in my pc.

My key words for that search were: music, art, painting, creativity (in that order).

I pressed the search botton.

The first person in a long list was C.

And the green daisy indicated he was online.

I gave it a go and sent him a message introducing myself, saying where I was and explaining briefly why I was contacting him. I don't know why, I was expecting no reply from the other side ("this thing won't work"). But in no time, his reply was there, on the screen, in front of my eyes.

In his message he said that amazingly, exactly in that moment, he was listening to a piece of music by Pat Metheney named after the city where I live. I was convinced of how meaningful was that a person from the other side of the world, and at that same instant, was listening to something related to this tiny, insignificant city. It surely had to be a sign, it was destiny...

And that was the beginning of everything.

My travelling plans had to be postponed as some issues concerning my family had to be solve first, like meeting for the first time a 18 years-old half sister and dealing with the death of a father who I had not seen since I was a child. (I am quite serious when I say that sometimes I have the feeling I am trapped in an Almodovar's movie!).

The following couple of years, C and I used to talk online almost everyday. We discussed art, we share music, we talked about movies and books, but we also got to know each other and as time went by our friendship started to grow stronger.

He let me know he was in a relationship of 7 years, and he also let me know how unhappy he was in it.

Finally everything was arranged and I was ready to travel. My kids alternating their father's and my own home with my mum. The date for the beginning of the trip was deeply analysed. I decided March as the temperature is a lot milder in the UK, also by that time, the kids had just restarted school and they were back to their rutine and that would help them handle my ausence.

For my finances, it was convenient to visit London first. However, 16th March is C's birthday and I thought meeting C for his birthday was a nice choice. So I changed my plans and from Heathrow I took a British Middlands flight to meet C in Manchester.

It is difficult to explain the sensations I was experiencing then. Basically I was anxious and enthusiastic as I was going to meet my friend and I was also excited of finally stepping into my land of dreams and looking forward to the days ahead discovering "my green island". I was radiant.

It was Sunday and due to a strike at Sao Paulo Airport, my flight to Manchester landed 4 hours late at Terminal 2. I remember devouring the malls of Manchester Airport, stairs, corridors and counters.

I still can close my eyes and relieve myself turning that corridor to find C, waiting for me at the other end. And when I do that I still can feel my heart beating as fast as it did then.

There he was. In front of me. Waiting for me.

I embraced him. It was a long and warm embrace. That embrace proved me that even when I was meeting that man for the first time, for real, I'd already known him deeply. All those months of words floating on our screens were decisive and that person was already so familiar to me!

He drove me to his home. There I met A, his partner of 7 years. She was nice to me, although C had already warned me that while she looked like an angel for the rest of the world, she was a very moody and miserable person with him, and one of the reasons for his unhappiness.

My suitcase was stucked in London Airport so I spent the next couple of days wearing the clothes she lent me.

C and A lived in a lovely small town at the verge of a natural reserve. Me, I was staying at a b&b that they had previously arranged for me in a very close village. Their house was too tiny to recieve guests and, deeply inside I was happy not to share their intimacy, as I knew before hand how difficult their relationship was.

The days to follow were filled with music and art. C and I were inseparable.

Wenesday was his birthday. After visiting an exhibition of Stanley Spencer at the Imperial War Museum we went to his for a drink and later he would drop me at my b&b. That day A and him had had an argument and as a result she didn't want to go out for dinner to celebrate his birthday as we'd previously planned.

So, there I was, in front of a cup of tea, when unexpectedly and shyly, he said to me that if I accepted, he would move to America to live with me for the rest of his life.

Was I fully understanding what he was trying to express? Was he offering me a life together? Was he cuatioslly letting me know that he had fallen in love with me? Was he saying that he would leave everything behind to start a new life with me? And most of all, was he ready to make such a huge change in his life... for me? Questions and doubts were squashing into my mind.

I was in shock, I was atonished, I believed I was living a fantasy, I felt dizzy. Somehow, all the objects in that kitchen were frantically dancing and giggling in front of me. The colourful letters of the cooking books in the shelves were getting out of the covers and floating funnily in the air. The twilight light coming from the window at my right illuminated the room pouring its warm orange on me like a blessing. The tree plant on the pot by my left smiled all its greeness to me. The bags of our shopping overflowing fresh vegetables. The kettle whisteling more hot water for coming teas. And suddenly, inside all that festival, in the middle of that party, I found his eyes. And I wanted so much to cry because I felt so light, I felt everything was going to be allright. I didn't want to talk, I wanted to capture and treasure that moment for the rest of my existence.

My hand moved to reach his and he knew I had accepted.

Later that evening, we both went out for dinner as already planned. A was not with us, she had decided to stay at home. That night he took me to my b&b but he didn't leave.

We only had 4 more days to analyse together the steps he should have to take to start our new life. I had to continue travelling around the UK because that was the purpose of my two months' trip. And he should begin to dismantle his life there.

We both were happy and in turmoil. We were also scared about the tough months ahead, we feared so much not being strong enough to put off our separation.

My departure to London was filled with tears.

I was going to spend the next two weeks living with a friend in London, and the rest of the month travelling around England, Scotland and Ireland on my own. He owned an apartment in the Docklands and lived on his own after being divorced for a couple of years. We had sensed there was chemestry between the two of us and we had anticipated having fun together. And I knew before hand he was expecting me with that in mind.

However, my life had changed in the twingkling of an eye. My past expectations of having fun with any guy dissapeared the moment I fell for C. Now, I had to find a polite way of letting my friend know that either he accepted I would only sleep on the living room sofa or he should help me find a b&b in London.

The man proved to be a great psicologist. Some time ago he told me that as soon as we met, he could read my body language like an open book. He suspected immediately that something extremely important had happend to me already and he thought of not pushing things too far. He was as welcoming as cautios when he explained to me that some time had passed since he had last lived with a woman and that he wanted to go little by little. And he suggested me to choose either the bedroom or the sofa. Obviously, I accepted the sofa with great relief.

We became close friends and finally I told him about C and our plans of moving together. He was understanding and such a good mind. He listened to me, he gave me good advices, he was so warm and above everything he was so generous to open his home to me. I have beautiful memories of those weeks we spent together, mainly because he made my stay there a wonderful experience. I am extremely grateful to him because of this. (J: I know sometimes you are around, if you are reading this, you know already how I feel. You are always on my mind. x).

I left London to travel north on my own. I used to recieve daily emails from C who, at that point had already talked to A about us and was living tough moments. Those moving letters were the most beautiful words someone has ever wrote to me. Letters filled with love and hope, strenght and support to prepare ourselves for each other.

To make it short I changed my travelling plans more than twice to meet C again. It was silly to waste my opportunity only because I wanted to visit Ireland. So I spent one more week with him for Easter Holidays and another week at the beginning of May, before going back to London to fly back home. Ireland would had to wait for another time.

The last goodbye was more than I could bear.

And the next 6 months after my arrival home were one of the most hard periods in my life.

Of course I was so happy to meet my kids that I had missed so much during my trip, but I also remember being so scared that C may change his mind. I only share what we had in mind with a couple of good friends of mine. I was very cautios not to tell my family and kids about it, I didn't want to cause them distress and even me, I was a bit uncertain about our strenght to make things happen. What was more, I was totally uncertain about what was happening with A and C and the imminent end of their relationship.

I built an extension of my house. A new room that C could use as his studio, that was ready just on time for his arrival. I wanted him to have his own creative space in the house for his guitars (Jesus, 8!), his art, his books.

November was there at last.

C arrived home the 13th November, exactly as he promised.

A year after his arrival we got married.

We are living the rest of our story.