Opening The Vault: Part Twenty Four

When it comes to Shakespeare’s observation about the course of true love not running smoothly, I can’t help wondering if The Bard had long-distance relationships in mind. My bicoastal romance with California native Mark (a.k.a Sparky) hit more than a few bumps along the way – especially on my third visit to L.A.

Already challenged by the 16-year and geographical distance between us, I faced the added stress during this particular encounter of lying to my parents about it. A sudden earthquake that weekend added to the unfolding drama. I now Open The Vault and take you back to December of 1994…

New York, NY
December 6th, 1994

Dear Diary,

Yesterday, after going to see “The Santa Clause,” we both agreed that it had been a disappointment. We were unable to agree, though, about what to do for dinner.

The tension between Sparky and I escalated during this silly movie when I suggested we walk out

It was around 8 already and we had to be up early the next morning [because of my flight]. And I had no desire to sit in a restaurant with him in silence, which is probably what would have happened given the tensions between us.

While we were in the car, Mark said randomly--

“All it would take is one phone call to [your parents] and you could stay here for 40 or 50 years.”

Though I melted at this, I was unable to appreciate the sentiment without getting mired in the implications behind it. Mark became annoyed and another protracted silence ensued.

Later, we were standing in Mark’s living room when all of a sudden, the house started shaking. Mark guided us into the wall jamb and supported me with his arms as he said--

“Hold on Baby!”

The quake measured 4.5 on the Richter scale. Though it only lasted for about a minute, I literally felt the impact go right through me. I understood why when Mark pointed to a flashing red signal on TV showing the epicenter that had caused the quake.

“That’s about a block from here,” he informed me.

Taking my hand, he led me around the house and we examined the damage -- cracks in the walls, the lid on his aquarium precariously shifted, dishes on the floor.

Not surprisingly, the quake’s impact eventually affected Mark’s mood. There I was laying on the couch while he chose to sit on the floor in front of the TV. How could he be so distant and act like I wasn’t even in the room?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I put aside my pride and slid down next to him. He didn’t budge -- no embrace, nothing.

I had a miserable look on my face as we were heading upstairs to bed. Mark got angry and I took his hand in an attempt to open up the lines of communication. He pulled away and went into his room. And that’s when the growing conflict between us really began to erupt.

* * *

The argument that followed would make me question whether my relationship with Mark was worth continuing – and force me to realize he was having the same doubts himself.

Opening The Vault: Part Twenty Three

In every relationship, there comes a time when you move out of the initial honeymoon period and into real coupledom -- when you begin to explore whether love really does conquer all.

That transition was an especially bumpy one for me and my California-based love Mark (a.k.a Sparky). About eight months into our complicated romance, I made my third consecutive visit out to L.A. to see him.

I felt strongly that it was Mark’s turn to do the traveling, but pleading phone calls from him led me to book a last-minute weekend trip. Just before end of semester final exams my senior year -- and without my parents’ knowledge.

I now Open The Vault and take you back to December of ‘94...

New York, NY
Tuesday Dec. 7th, 1994

Dear Diary,

Our reunion Friday night was sublime…Like Friday, Saturday was great.

We woke up early and clad in our robes, went downstairs to the living room, where we had one of our most magical mornings ever.

Phantom of the Opera: The euphoria that Sparky and I enjoyed during a song from this haunting musical was short-lived during my third visit to see him in L.A.

Cueing up the ballad “All I Ask of You” from “Phantom of The Opera,” Sparky and I melted into one another’s arms and began to dance. As we held each other close, I rested my head on his shoulder. Then, feeling Sparky’s eyes on me, I turned to look at him.

“We were meant for each other,” he said. “You know that, don’t you?”

Right then and there, for one fleeting moment, I did know it.

* * *

Later, after a relatively serene afternoon, things between us began to take a turn for the worse. I became unhappy as Mark reverted to his distant mode.

When we woke up on Sunday, Mark sensed my hostility and asked me about it. I told him that I felt he wasn’t being affectionate enough.

“Well, I’m sorry,” he said coldly. “But I think that’s bullsh*t.”

I immediately stood up, furious that he could be so tactless. Another argument ensued.

Afterward, while I was in the bathroom putting on my makeup, he suddenly appeared and said --

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m not used to having such a sensitive, beautiful young woman in my life.”

The rest of the day was up and down. There were a lot of silent moments and I found myself unsuccessfully fighting back tears for the duration of the afternoon.

Over brunch at Marina del Rey, Mark said he was concerned that our relationship was becoming more than I could handle.

* * *

That night, we finally got around to discussing what had prompted me to make the trip -- the difficulties surrounding our situation. Mark admitted he needs more. I said I don’t want our circumstances to ruin what we have.

“What this relationship needs,” he observed, “is the test of time.”

* * *

Our rocky weekend together was the first of many tests for Sparky and I as a couple. I had no idea when he uttered those predictive words the worst of that particular encounter was yet to come.