Chapter 1: The Beginning of Something Unforeseen

I guess the first thing I should do is explain how it started. I would love to say that it began with a simple text: “Hey, I have questions I need answered by 7 pm tomorrow.” Followed by a straightforward response: “Ok…what’s up?” It certainly felt innocuous enough. “I’m sitting, doing school work. Feel free to call me,” he replied, and a playful, slightly anxious part of me couldn’t resist giggling when he added, “Does it involve the potential for me to get fired?!?” My heart raced as I typed, “Call me when you can.”

And that was it—the first of endless phone calls, thousands of texts, countless face-to-face conversations and incredible trips that would change everything.

As I waited for his call, I prepared a few questions I hoped would lead to a deeper discussion, perhaps even a meeting between us. It did. We decided on a local spot that had become a sort of communal gathering place for our friend group. When he finally texted, “On my way. Got caught up in stuff,” I felt a mix of excitement and frustration. He was always late. Fifteen minutes later, I sent a gentle nudge: “Waiting…” and his quick response, “I know, sorry. I got to writing and lost track of time…” did little to quell my growing impatience.

When he finally walked in, I was already nursing a drink, having ordered something to stave off the nerves that had begun to bubble beneath the surface. As I hurried through my questions, the weight of what was brewing in my mind loomed larger with each sip. I was anxious about what I had just embarked on.

He didn’t seem to notice my unease. Instead, he greeted me with his characteristic cheerfulness, his presence warm and comforting. You see, I had decided a few months back that I was going to better my community, and he was my go-to for advice. He had this uncanny ability to explain complex issues without making me feel unintelligent, and for that, I appreciated him immensely.

We spoke about the community, our experiences, and the passing of time slipped away like sand through our fingers. Laughter filled the gaps where nervousness had once thrived, and I found myself opening up about everything—the good, the bad, and the ugly. But as the evening wore on, the margaritas began to take their toll, and I realized with sudden clarity that my nervous energy had morphed into something else entirely.

When it was time to leave and we stepped out into the early autumn night, I was struck by the realization that I had consumed too much. That was when he drove me home for the first time. It was also the moment when I, in a haze of liquid courage, began to word vomit all my thoughts about his situation.

I had a solid opinion, and I wasn’t alone in holding it. Everyone in our friend group had their views—how unhappy he seemed, how we all blamed her. We blamed her for all the bad decisions he made, for his struggles, and for the way he had seemed to lose himself over the years. She wasn’t liked. Rude and overbearing, she treated him like a bad puppy who always needed to be on a leash. It was easy to point fingers at her, especially considering his misstep from a few years back. After spending a little time with her, it became clear to us why he had done it. For some reason, we didn’t hold him accountable, instead casting her as the villain in this story.

And so, with too many margaritas swirling in my system, I spilled all of this to him as he drove. I had no idea that this conversation would be the catalyst for everything that would follow.

So that is how it started.