The first time that I saw Katie was in passing at a coffee shop. I was there with some friends who knew her and they said hello as we went to our table. It was wintertime, so we were all sitting inside instead of at our usual tables out back. I was sitting where I could see her and I remember being aware of her while we were there, but no more than I was aware of anyone else there that night. Perhaps only in hindsight does the evening stand out as it was otherwise unremarkable.
I don’t remember when I actually met Katie. As bizarre as this sounds, it’s fairly common in the recovery community; people tend to begin conversations and even friendships without formal introductions. I have found myself knowing people (and even intimate details of their lives) for months before finally learning their names. It’s odd for sure, but we just roll with it.
Anyhow, there was a point where Katie was not hanging out with my group of friends and then there was a point where she had been hanging out with us for a while and I have no idea when that changed. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe I was the one that started hanging around with her friends. Possibly a bit of both; such is the way of things in that community.
The big moment that I do remember is the one where Katie changed for me from “casual acquaintance” to “someone special”. Not in any sort of romantic way, but in that way when you occasionally meet someone that has a spark that you latch on to and decide, in that instant, that you want them to be your friend. It was a moment when I realized that this person, this one among many, was unique and special and that I wanted her to be a part of my life. It would take more than a year for me to realize just how true that thought was, but more on that later.
A group of 15 or so of us had descended on an all-night cafe after a late-night AA meeting to continue our fellowship and camaraderie over chips, salsa, coffee and pancakes. This was a regular thing for us and this was one of our regular haunts. I don’t recall having intentionally sat next to Katie, but memory sometimes gets a little fuzzy during the retelling, so it’s possible. Self-deprecating humor being an important quality of any good recovering alcoholic, I had been participating in a joke about my own tendency to pontificate. We had gotten to the point where, in the joke, I was standing atop a high horse, which was standing on another high horse (both clydesdales) and the two of them were balanced on a soapbox. I asked what was under the soapbox and without missing a beat, Katie replied “It’s turtles, all the way down.” Google it if you don’t know the reference as it’s kind of obscure and completely incongruous to the joke. It also happened to be the exact answer that I would have given had I been asked that question. To her reply, I probably exclaimed “Yes!” entirely too loudly and began laughing in a way that confused the rest of the group that didn’t get the reference. I recall Katie and I then explaining it to everyone afterwards and none of them found it as funny as we did. Seriously, Google it.
I had been going through a difficult time in life during this period and had been renting a room from a good friend while finalizing a divorce and the sale of my former home. As it happened, Katie had begun dating this same friend of mine so we had no shortage of opportunity to grow a friendship over coffee and cigarettes on his back patio during the following months. It was through these late-night chats on the patio, at cafes and many many nights at the tables outside that same coffee shop where I had first seen her that Katie and I became something more than just friends. We became best friends.
Memory has a funny way of playing with time and time has a funny way of playing with memory, so I likely have a lot of things wrong or out of order when I recall that year of my life, but there are a few moments that stand out. Katie and I had become each other’s go-to person for ideas, advice, commiseration and general solace from the craziness of our worlds.
She was there as I saw friends wander away from recovery and we would hear stories of them taking up their old lifestyles (or worse) and she helped me remember that not everyone makes it and that we should celebrate the ones that do while learning from the ones that don’t. She was also there to share the joy of seeing people begin to recover and put their lives back in order and to laugh at the ludicrous drama that permeates any late-night recovery group. She was there when I began dating again, helping me select potential matches on a dating app and laughing at my tales of comically bad first dates. As an aside, there was one date where I stopped in the middle of it to take some pictures of turtles to send to Katie. Because turtles. Most of all, she was there to help me back up as I stumbled into becoming my own person again and engaged in a seemingly endless series of questionable decisions that seemed like good ideas at the time. No matter what was happening, she was there.
Rest assured, this was far from a one-way street, but this is my story. You can read Katie’s version if you want the other side of it.
One night, after more than a year of helping each other through all of life’s joys, pains and general absurdities, we found ourselves at her apartment watching reruns of old crime dramas and just being comforted by each other’s presence and stability. We had been up all night and we were both exhausted so perhaps our guards were down, but we had a moment. Nothing juicy, don’t go there. We had a moment where we both realized that what we had was something much more than a friendship.
This moment came as a surprise to both of us. Publicly, we had become almost inseparable in the minds of our peers, so much that we were often asked if we were a couple. Of course, we both found the idea to be preposterous and replied as much, but apparently everyone else saw what we couldn’t (or wouldn’t).
What followed is even more of a blur than the year leading up to it and my memories are mostly of emotions felt during this time. I recall a constant state of wondering if I was dreaming, exultation at realizing that I wasn’t, fear that we were wrong or that I would mess things up, recognition that it would be ok if I did, trust that she would understand my missteps, realization that this trust was part of why she was perfect and then back to wondering if it was a dream again. It was beautifully exhausting.
I remember the experience of breaking the news to our friends. Almost universally, the response was along the lines of “It’s about time.” To this day, I’m still not sure how I feel about everyone else being right except me, but I can’t possibly express how happy I am that they were.
In the years since, Katie and I have been able to build a life that we can both be proud of. We have started new careers and hobbies together. We’ve helped each other grow and learn and become better. We’ve developed an ever-evolving language based on love, trust and respect for each other that is beyond my ability to describe.
And now I’m about to take the next step in this life with a partner that surpasses my loftiest notions of perfect. Through a confluence of luck, faith, stubbornness and willingness to take a chance, I have found my person. Or she has found me. Or both.
None of us can predict the future and as much as we plan and dream, life always has a way of tossing unexpected curveballs our way. What I do know for certain is that I have a teammate that will be there for me as I will be there for her, to stand side by side as we face tomorrow, and know that we can handle it together.
And I know now that I have loved her since the turtles.
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