What Chemistry This Is

After eighteen months of what felt like a fairytale, they broke up. He was recruited by a New York based, international finance company, which for him, was a dream come true. He’d been working in Nashville when he met Megan, who was a native of the area. They’d fallen in love quickly and were soon inseparable.

 When he asked her to marry him and move to New York City, she cried. “I can’t, Tony. I want to marry you, but I can’t leave my brother and sister. You know how close we are.” She cried and tried hard to reason with him. “We can make a wonderful life here. You grew up in the north and you know how crowded and congested it is up there. You’ll miss what we have here and you’ll miss me, too.”

 Tony did his best to reassure her. But she was a triplet and very close to her siblings and her mother. He said, “I’ll be making incredible money. You can come home as often as you like.” He knew, of course, that he wasn’t going to convince her. Still a young man, he was sure it would be crazy to give up a dream job.

 And they both understood that sooner or later, whichever path they chose, one of them would eventually feel resentment toward the other. They parted and he found a condo in Hoboken, facing the Hudson River and the Manhattan skyline. She visited him once. In spite of the breathtaking views, it didn’t go well. The chemistry between them was as powerful as ever, but when the weekend was over, she tearfully said goodbye, insisting on taking a taxi to Newark Airport. “There’s no point in prolonging this. I don’t know what I expected. I shouldn’t have come,” she said.        

 They’re relationship ended that day. They both found others, married, and hoped that would put an end to their seemingly unbreakable bond. It didn’t work for either of them. They were both divorced in less than two years. Still, there were no attempts to reconnect. Facebook had not yet become the behemoth it would eventually be. Through a mutual friend, he would occasionally hear some news. She had cut her hair. And her career as a nurse was advancing. She had moved into a management role in a critical care unit.

 His career was also going quite well. He was now living in a luxury high rise near the World Trade Center, which was perfect, because he worked on a high floor in one of the towers. On that fateful September morning, he was sitting on the couch at the CEO’s brownstone in upper Manhattan when the news came. Occasionally, the boss held morning meetings at his home because he believed that a change of scenery could stimulate creativity.

 Through the same friend, Megan had become aware that he was working at the World Trade Center. Although they hadn’t spoken in six years, she was amazed by what she felt when she heard the news. It was as if someone had cut off her oxygen supply. She was sitting in her office, feeling paralyzed.

 Her close friend and colleague, Colette, had opened her door to ask if she’d heard. “Oh! I see you have.” Colette knew that Megan, for some reason, still struggled to get over Tony. She’d fixed her up a few times, but realized she was just wasting the time of the men she thought Megan would find interesting. Both buildings had been hit by then and the women watched in horror. “We should take leaves of absence and go up there to assist. They are going to need help,” Colette said, hopefully planting a seed.

 “Maybe,” Megan said.

 Tony was grateful to have been spared, but sitting on his boss’s couch, he felt terrible about the people he’d worked with that were surely lost. He made his way back to his home. It took hours. He thought about Megan and wondered if she was thinking of him. Would it be a passing reminiscence or something more?

 That night, Tony sat alone, sipping cognac and brooding. He was 35 now and feeling lost. His bank account was very healthy. He was certain he would one day be at the top of his industry. His thoughts turned to Megan and what they had given up. He had dated a lot after his divorce, but that had slowed down over the last year. It had occurred to him that he felt like a client of his, who was a recovering cocaine addict. The man said, “Sooner or later you realize you are always chasing your fist high. And you never get there.”   

 He had met and spent time with some lovely women. But none of them could make him feel the way Megan made him feel. “That’s the problem with chemistry,” he said aloud. “There’s no escape when you find the right one.”

 He picked up his phone, surprised he could make a call. He dialed the last number he had for Megan; doubtful he would reach her. But she picked up on the first ring.

 “It’s Tony,” he said.

 “Thank God.” Her voice was tearful. “I’ve been sitting by my phone all night, praying.”

 He told her about his good fortune, but he didn’t want to talk about the day. He had something else on his mind. “I can’t go anywhere, probably for a few days. But I’m coming home.”

 She took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m not sure what that means.” She gripped the phone hard.

 He walked into his bedroom and opened his nightstand drawer. He picked up a powder blue box and opened it. “I have this ring I wanted to give you. I’m hoping you’ll try it on. Maybe it still fits.”

 “She looked at her left hand. “Maybe it will.”

 They were married on New Year’s Eve in the Atrium at the Opryland Hotel.