Timing is a Bitch — Part 1

in love •  7 years ago  (edited)

How often have you gotten to the train or bus station watching it as it departs without you. If you only left one minute earlier you wouldn't be too late to that important meeting or whatever is on your agenda. We all know the feeling, but nothing is worse than missing the love of your life over and over and over again.

Just a normal Wednesday morning, unemployed, sitting in my parents living room watching TV. I can hear someone scuffle around in the hallway. I open the ripple-glass-living-room door, and there is my mom, finishing adding some red lipstick on to her lips. Fully styled hair, nice outfit and perfect applied make-up, I am wondering what the heck is going on. "Why are you getting all fancy?", I ask, "you are just going to your AAA meeting." She replies that she just felt like dressing up. She leaves and I am fixing me a cup of coffee and continue blasting my brain with crappy TV shows. Probably a re-run of Rosanne or the like.

The day goes by, my dad gets back from work, my little sister is chilling in her room. Things are starting to feel weird. We check the time, it's already 8 pm and my mom is still not home. Soon we realize that something must have happened to her. I had a cell phone then but was the only one in my family. No way to just call her and see if she is alright. We wait a few more hours and decide to walk to the police station nearby. After filing a missing report we go home and start calling the local hospitals. No luck in any way. Earth seemed to have swallowed her whole. The night goes, the morning comes. We are at a loss and my little sister finally mentioned that she hung out with our mom and this weird guy that she kissed good bye, just a few days ago. Yes, you guessed it... long story short, we knock on his door and he answers with only a sheet wrapped around his waist, while we are looking straight ahead into the bedroom, where my mom is laying, covering her naked body with a blanket.

As if her family never meant anything to her she moves to Schweinfurt with her new boyfriend. Naturally always drunk and out of control. I decide to go visit her, after all, I was unemployed and had nothing better to do. I arrive at the Schweinfurt train station via ICE from Berlin Hauptbahnhof, at the scheduled time. It's a beautiful day, compared to Berlin this is a tiny train station. Only 4 Terminals, everyone leaves the train, is welcomed by their family and loved ones and off they go to celebrate their arrivals. My mom, no where to be found. Thankfully I had my Handy and call the number she gave me. She answers, drunk of course, and I tell her I am at the station.

It's Friday night and my mom and her boyfriend decided to take me to this bar called Rock Fabric. It's a warm spring night in April 2000. Me, a 19 year old brunette, 128 lbs, 5.6, German girl, brown eyes, long hair, wearing a white-shear-see-through dress, tall black boots now sitting at the bar with my mom and her boyfriend who is a total stranger to me and destroyed my family.

We are sipping on some drinks, listening to Linkin Park and other 90ies rock bands playing out of at least 10 speakers. It's a huge place and super empty for a long time. We must have arrived way too early. As the night goes on, with the colored lights moving back and forth over the mostly-empty-dance floor, the place slowly starts to fill up. I am talking to my mom as I heard "Hi, I am a killer." I turn around and there he was, a tall, dark-hair-handsome-young man, talking to me in English and telling me the most frightening pick-up line I've ever heard. Me coming from Berlin, barely speaking any English I got freaked out and so I try to ignore him. He gets the message and walks away. I tell my mom what had just happened and she explains to me that there are two US Army bases in Schweinfurt, and so he must be a soldier. The night goes on and all of a sudden the young man is back striking a conversation with me again. He says his name is Tom and he is celebrating his birthday. Then he tried to impress me by telling me that he is going to buy a BMW. I couldn't have cared less but was being friendly, very interested in the whole circumstance, trying to communicate in my broken English. As I am getting entertained by the unfolding of events of the night I am realizing that he is kinda growing on me. He tells me 10000 compliments, how pretty I am, asks me to dance with him, to Hotel California from the Eagles, though I told him falsely that I have a boyfriend, I go slow dance with him. He is very drunk and tries to give me his watch as a gift. I refuse of course, so he asks his soldier buddies who were there with him, to give me their wedding rings or their watches or whatever they have. It was quite hilarious, as they were all drunk and really were not hesitating to hand over their possessions. Must have been the dress. Of course I refuse their offerings and tell Tom that he could just give me a US dollar bill, as I only had seen them on TV. He gets one out of his wallet and writes his email address and phone number on it and sticks it into the top of my boot. All of a sudden there is a fight between some of his soldiers outside and he has to go to the MP station and so he disappears into the night.

I am back on the train to Schweinfurt but this time I am greeted with a hug and some flowers. Tom and I started moving really fast and decide I should just move to Schweinfurt to live with him, so I did. A few months later, 9 months after meeting him, we are married in December 2000.

Winter comes and goes and with that spring arrives and leaves are finally budding on trees again. Winters in Germany are so gloomy and cold, so as soon as the sun is out and warms up the air, people spend as much time outside as possible. It's a Friday afternoon and Tom's company has set up the BBQ so we all could also enjoy the first days of spring. We are walking hand in hand over to the Pavilion where the grill was cooking up some burgers, as we are being stopped by the most handsome man I have seen in my entire life. Tom introduces me to one of his best friends, who is wearing a Army uniform with those shiny black boots you had to polish to perfection each night, I look into this man's most gorgeous blue eyes as we reach out our hands for a handshake. "This is Mark, Mark, this is my wife Jessica." Our hands touch for the first time and I have only one thought on my mind: Ohhh my gosh he is the One.

Continue Part 2

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