Santa Cruz

My husband planned the most amazing weekend. Being back in Santa Cruz felt like a different kind of home. Like a time warp: my hair was short like it used to be, we didn't have a kid, the streets and shops all looked the same. But I kept having to remind myself, slow down. You don't have a babysitter waiting for you to come pick him up. You don't have to be worrying about tomorrow, or the next day. Breath for gosh sakes.

That's what was different. They way I felt. Five years ago when I was in Santa Cruz I wasn't having to remind myself to breath or to just enjoy the afternoon without thinking about tomorrow. It took conscious effort this go around.

We only had one episode, one blowout in the car parked in the parking garage. It actually started at the brewery we went to for dinner, I was sipping on a cocktail waiting for my salad, trying to fill the crazily annoying married silence that hovers over "date" dinners by asking Joey questions.

"So, do you remember your first kiss?"

Joey hates this question. He also hates all other questions involving past girlfriends. I find it giddy and exciting to talk about, like when I was in seventh grade.

"So do you remember where you did it? Behind the mobiles maybe?"

He glared back at me.

"I don't like these questions."

I laughed off his frustration for a little bit, wishing he would just lighten up. Jeese. I tell him I am just trying to get to know him. I asked him if it feels like I am squeezing his head in a vice, a reference from an old cartoon.

He didn't find it funny.

But then he continued to press the subject, asking me why I am never satisfied, why he can offer me the world, or Santa Cruz, and I still want more.

And instantly, I am quite ticked. Suddenly the only thing I can see are individual pieces of lettuce on my plate, a crouton. I stabbed each one deliberately before chewing it and swallowing it. It tasted like dirt.

Everyone around us is having a good time. Drinking, laughing. My cheeks are hot. I dab my eyes because they are wet.

I want to leave so bad. Our poor waitress doesn't know what to do with us; she approaches us with caution to ask if everything, food wise, is OK. I can't look at her.

So anyway, back in the car, in the parking garage, we just let it out. I can't remember what I said, something about being pregnant, even though I don't think I am pregnant, but that is just what came out.

I don't get emotional like that very often. Joey asked me, "Is something really wrong, or are you just emotional?" and I wanted to punch him in the face, but thought better of it. Looking back, I think what made me emotional was just being there. Transported back into a time of singleness, possibility, freedom, youngness, juxtaposed to our crazy life back in the burbs of Reno, lovely Stead, NV. Just brought up emotions usually buried deep under responsibilities.

But that was it. One little *bleep* and then the rest of the weekend was so amazing. Running through Capitola, smelling the thick air of Mount Hermon, curling up in bathrobes on our bed.

The bed and breakfast was luxurious, a type of once in a lifetime place. I felt like a queen.