It's funny how we remember old flames. There is just no telling.
When I think of her, I remember her red hair, her green eyes and a deep voice, deeper than mine, that came from somewhere in her long, skinny body. She used to tell me that she yearned for me when we were apart. Really she did. Only it sounded like "yunned"when she said it.
I can safely say without hesitation or fear of contradiction that no woman has "yunned" for me before or since.
Of course, this reverie on Highway 49 did not pass by the many detours and obstacles along the way. There is no good way to get to Jackson from here. And despite her being as fit as a horse, she managed to rupture a disk in her back while mopping the kitchen floor, which made riding in a car uncomfortable. She had two young daughters, a deadbeat ex whom she was constantly haling into court and she wanted to go to graduate school.
That's a lot to unpack from 256 miles away. The timing could not have been worse. It could not work.
But I chose not to dwell on any of that. I vastly preferred remembering that a beautiful woman from Mississippi once yearned for me.
Werner Heisenberg would understand this completely. Surely you remember Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle which posits that the findings of the experimenter cannot be completely accurate for the reason that by virtue of conducting the experiment, the observer becomes part of the observed system. In other words, participating in a system necessarily colors one's perspective. Insert the word "relationship"for the word "system" and Werner Heisenberg prefigures Dr. Laura in history.
I once took a deposition in a sexual harassment case. The plaintiff worked with a man with whom she fell in love. They got engaged. It didn't work out and she broke it off. The ex still carried a torch for her and made numerous overtures to her in an attempt to win her back. She admitted that she went back with him but stated that she broke it off again after a couple of months.
The problem with carrying a torch is that sometimes you have to play with fire in the process.
She claims that he persisted in trying to hug her and kiss her after she broke it off for good. She claims that he called her house and that he pestered her in the halls. She is lovely, intelligent, articulate and believable. My client's guy, the ex, swears up and down that he left her alone after the second breakup. He is handsome, intelligent, articulate and believable. There are no witnesses to the acts complained of, which is not unusual in these matters.
So who is telling the truth and who is lying? Or are they both telling "truths" as whispered to them by their memories? Memories that are necessarily colored by their prior relationship if not their current relationships as well? Think of other "women scorned" of recent notoriety. Think of Anita Hill. Think of Paula Jones, if you must. Who was telling the truth? Who was lying?
The old country lawyer says, "Everybody lies a little bit." The problem is, everybody also tells the truth a little bit.
None of which would trouble Dr. Heisenberg in the least. What's good for describing quantum physics is equally good for describing failed relationships. The observer becomes part of the system.
Which is why I prefer to let my mind linger over the memory of a certain girl from Hattiesburg instead of remembering what a goddamned fool idea it was in the first place.
It is funny how we remember old flames. There is just no telling.
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