Member-only story
The 40-Year Old Regret
His name is Jeff.
Ah, Jeff. I was SO in love with him I could scarcely breathe. Jeff and I never made it to the altar though. Hell, we never made it to the first date as far as that goes.
And it was my fault.
He had his own band all through high school. Thick curly hair, smart, articulate, a fabulous writer. Sigh. Where was I? Oh yeah right.
Years later I was married, had a small child, and was living in the D.C. metro area. He too was married and had a child but was still living in the same area we had grown up in. We had stayed in touch off and on over the years. At one point he had begun performing with a new group and asked if I would drive down (three hours one-way mind you) to hear them on opening night. He valued my opinion. How could I say no?
I arrived and saw him immediately. He was up front with the rest of the band members getting things set up. Someone stopped next to me and asked me if they could help me. I said no. “Well, only the band and their wives are allowed in here right now. The venue isn’t open yet.” Said the Voice. My eyes had not left Jeff. Just then he looked up and saw me. Instantly there was a huge grin stretching across his face. He strode over to where the Voice and I were standing.
