" Hi, I think I just saw you put something into a car, not sure it was you though, and it seems you have gotten bigger..."
A message from Jay to me, October 2013.
Euphoria
We decided on fried noodles and set out.
I still can't wrap my head around why I was driving so far above the speed limit; we were only going to get dinner - I guess for me it's like what's the point of having a car if we have to drive it that slowly, plus Jay didn't seem to mind – anyway that night, just like every other time, I was driving way over the speed limit, with a grin on my face and Nah by The Weekend booming through my speakers.
Then it happened on our way back, I was driving too fast and I had somehow managed to get too close to the pavement – in a split second, my whole life flashed through my mind, this was finally it; what weighed heaviest on my mind in that instance was that Jay was going to die, her head had turned about 60 degrees as the car tilted. It was hard to process anything over the sound of her screaming and tires screeching - 72 hours ago I barely knew her and that night we had just had our first real conversation. Now she was going to die, 22 years of life coming to an abrupt end. Blood splattered and fried noodles scattered all over her face, she lay there motionless.
I had killed Jay. Oh my God I'm a murderer.
I'm kidding, God I'm kidding. I made the whole thing up. I just said all that to get your attention.
My name is Cyrus, Jay is alive and here's what really happened.
3 years ago a friend of mine who is currently in Grad school told me before he left for the US that during his Skype Interview for his application, the guys conducting the interview asked him at some point to tell them about his personal life, like a love story or something in the neighbourhood of a love story – now my friend hadn't been very involved with women like the rest of us in college but he said he managed to 'put something together' and they loved it; later he said to me..."Dude, you know everyone loves a good love story" – I then asked myself, if it were me, and all that stood between me and an admission to my dream school for grad studies was a good 'love' story, what story would I tell?
Meet Jay, short for Jacqueline.
Jay is something special – I'd say someone but very often she felt like more.
She is Nigerian, Igbo and has eyes like a demi-goddess.
I would say she's pretty, but that would rob the description of the hyperbole it deserves.
Every person on earth was crafted perfectly through God's divine genius, but I'd like to think Jay got special attention from Him...particularly certain details of her face, like eyes and...her eyes.
If I could go back in time and tell her anything, it would be that the way she laughs is the cutest thing in the world and how I think her skin tone is perfect.
Her story is about living and letting go – about not being in complete control and being okay with it; I know this, that I wasn't in control, because while I was living this story there were recurring moments where my hands would get shaky and a few minutes later I would become abusive (verbally not physically) and I then I'd start apologizing frantically the next morning or a few days later. This is a true story – and as with every emotional ordeal post the invention of cell phones, it started with a message.
That message. *chuckles*
" How is it possible that one message has brought me so much joy and pain?' – she once said to me.
