Yellow Napkin

If there was ever a time, now was as good as any.

As I made my way downstairs into the townhouse basement that I claimed as my room, I let the knapsack slide off my shoulder onto the floor at the foot of the stairs. One thing I appreciated about living in the basement was that it was always cool. Not the air-conditioned chill that my roommates enjoyed upstairs, but the inherent cool that came with walls being surrounded by cement and earth. The kind of coolness that comes with a slight, earthy 'musk'.

I walked over to my desk, one my dad built for my brother and I in high school, that I later brought with me over to college. With white surfaces all around, it featured one small drawer that was just big enough for a handful of papers and some pens. It had a modern, simple look which I liked, but I suspect was more a consequence of being built in my parent's garage.

I switched on the desk lamp, illuminating the room in a soft yellow glow, and stared for a moment at the lone white drawer. That's where I put it, where it was waiting for me. I could feel my self breathing a little faster, or maybe not breathing at all, as a knot developed in my stomach. Opening up the drawer, it was right there - a yellow napkin, on top of some class notes, next to a handful of pens and an old pack of Marlboros. That's convenient. I took out the napkin along with the gold and white box, lay the napkin on the desk, and proceeded to open the Marlboros. Pulling the lighter from inside the box - I lit up. I didn't consider myself a smoker, but I did enjoy the habit in social situations, and in moments like this when I needed to calm my nerves.

I drew it in, closed my eyes, and let the smoke slowly breath out, thinking of the trail of events that brought me here.

-----

I had seen her on campus, asked about her in a RAPS meeting, and saw her picture in one of those restaurant-dinner pictures where she held up her glass with all of her girlfriends. I was looking at the picture then, in our townhouse living room. "Who is she?" I asked.

"Who, Melissa? YO, that's my girrrrlll!" Reyna said, laughingly. Ben was in the room, and we caught his attention.

"Whoa, wait - what are we talking about?" he said, catching a scent of gossip, or at least some opportunity to needle one of his roommates. It was an opportunity we all looked for.

"El's asking about Melissa!" she laughed. She turned back to me, smiling, and spoke casually, her eyes locked in to observe my anticipated response. "Yo, El - you want her number?"

"Yeah, I mean ... if that's ok."

"Yeah, man! Let me ask." she said, savoring the moment, eyes still locked in. "Melissa, huh? She's pretty, El."

I don't remember saying anything after that, but I did look at the picture. For a person I never spoke more than two words to, she had a familiarity and a uniqueness all at once. The type of familiarity that put my memories and instincts at odds. I know I didn't know her, but ... there was just the slightest whisper of recognition.

And yeah, 'pretty' is an understatement.

-----

Maybe a week later, Ben came downstairs. He was smiling, but there was an air of official business to his gait. He handed me a yellow napkin.

"Here it is, El. I asked a friend of hers to ask her if it was ok to get her number, and she said 'ok'."

"Thanks man".

My heart raced faster then too, and I put the napkin in my desk drawer. Ben went back upstairs with a slight laugh, or maybe just a smile, but there was something more. Not sure if it was a type of father's pride, or if he was just laughing at the look on my face.

-----

My cigarette nearly complete, I took my last draw and put it out in an ashtray on the shelf. What was I doing? I had never had a conversation with this girl, and for all I knew, there's a good chance she didn't even knew who I was. She wasn't even at Rutgers anymore. She had moved back to Long Island, so I couldn't even ask to casually meet up with her. And I was going to call her out of the blue and what ... introduce myself? 'This is El, I'm a friend of Reyna's.' And after that, what if she said 'Ummm ... who?' This is crazy. How can I do this?

Allright, calm down. Breath, you got this.

Enjoy it. Enjoy the craziness. Enjoy the knots in your stomach, the light-headedness, and the fact that you could very well, and most likely will, crash and burn.

Take it all in, man. This is all part of it - all of it.

Ok. I picked up the phone, and dialed the numbers sloppily written in blue ink, contrasting against the yellow surface. 1, 516, 364, 1954. My breath, and time itself, was suspended, as the other end of the line started ringing.

"Hello?"

"Melissa?"

"Yes, this is."

"Hi, this is El, from Rutgers. I'm a friend of Reyna's?"

"Oh, hey! How are you?"

Prologue

I'm not sure how many moments define so much of one's life. Or how many of those moments take what feels like an impossible burst of courage (or just plain, blind foolishness) to make happen, and could have easily gone another way if that courage fell short just a little bit. But this was one of those times.

I was also lucky - lucky she was home, and curious enough to indulge me.

And as I flip through the memories that followed, I know that every moment and interaction after that was also a necessary event - as we built a friendship, trust, the beginnings of a relationship - all of them trials in their own way, but the stories and stones of a foundation. And throughout all if it - everyday, just moments of enjoying each other's company.

Looking back, there is no aspect of my life that hasn't been blessed because of her, because of us. No moment in my career not anchored in the steadiness and encouragement she provided, no friends she didn't help cultivate, no love of family that she didn't metaphorically and literally birth. Every step she's blessed with a considerate thought and a nurturing touch.

But it all starts somewhere. Everyday moments, or "every-life" moments - small moments of fear, faith, and fortune - whose consequence may be unknown to us, but can define so much of the life that follows.

In this case - a burst of courage, some blind luck, and a yellow napkin.

Written for my partner in crime, parenting, cuisine exploration, reluctant gym-going, world exploration, laundry, life-building, and all things important outside of the MCU, for our 20th Anniversary. Lucky to be living life with my great love.