THE OFFER

    After returning home from my trip, I started working through the impending departure with my friends. Most of whom still had no idea that Jenn and I were together. That double whammy hit hard, especially for me. Every single time I had to say the words out loud. Yes, I’m with Jenn. Yes, we’re in love. Yes, I have to leave her behind. Many of these conversations ended with me in, or close to, tears.

    I know my friends felt badly for me, and I hated to break such hard news to them. But it was an important next step for me to be able to move forward. As a life-long student in the study of human behavior, I found the spectrum of emotions from each individual personality fascinating. Some were enraged and vowed vengeance. Some were hopeful and talked of new possibilities. And some were heartbroken and told me how sad it all made them feel. I sat squarely in that third melancholy camp.

    I think the holidays are a really rough time of year if you’re already feeling down. I don’t know if it’s because of the expectations that surround this month-long period. Or, because of the sadness you feel for the years, and people, gone by. Or the knowledge that you can’t possibly make those days as magical as they’re marketed to be. Whatever the reason, and especially this year, I was not terribly jolly during this supposed joyous season.

    My mood did improve somewhat when I got the offer letter back from NAC. In his email, Keith was effusive with his praise of me. The expertise that I had, my commitment to excellence, and what he thought I could bring to the NAC family. He even used the word “unicorn” to describe me. I was shocked to be compared with that mythical creature and was even more shocked when I read the letter itself. If accepted, I would be making the most money I ever had in nearly 30 years in the business. The salary combined with bonuses, profit-sharing, retirement contributions and honest-to-goodness health insurance made their offer too good to refuse.

    It was a bitter-sweet moment for me. The offer made the move seem much more real than it had been. There was now a clear path ahead. Away from my friends, my family, and my love. And I was beginning my walk down it.

    A few days before Christmas, my two oldest kids flew in from the west coast and we all drove up to Sunday River for a planned family ski vacation. We had done something similar the year before with great success. And, in an effort to make things as “normal” as possible for the youngest kids, we kept that tradition going. However, for me, this trip felt everything but normal. I had spent so many years keeping the peace and putting on a happy face, when all I wanted to do was run screaming, that this time around felt particularly painful.

    Being forced to play nice with the woman who was turning my life upside down was an especially bitter pill for me to swallow. And, while I was happy to spend time with my older kids, I was even happier when the holiday was over, and I could finally stop pretending. I knew that I owed them both a conversation about my own true feelings, but this was not the time for that. So, I bid them both goodbye, breathed a huge sigh of relief, and made a beeline for Jenn.

    J and the kids made their traditional post-Christmas trip to her parents in Canada, which gave me the freedom to spend some quality time with Jenn and her girls. On New Year’s Eve, we attended a small but festive party together. We played games, sang songs, shared stories, and ate lots of great food with friends. I felt happy again. Like a holiday promise had finally been fulfilled. Like this was the only time and place that existed. And it was where I was supposed to be.

    Later, back at her house, the five of us sat on their tiny couch and toasted the arrival of the new year. Jenn and I knew that 2020 would be tough. But we had no idea just how cruel and unusual the year would soon become.