"Felicia, I think I loved you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you."
She had been waking up when I voiced those words and upon hearing them, sat bolt-upright. She threw on her usual odd-looking glasses and stared at me with the deep and beautiful blue eyes I had come to know so well. She drew the blankets around her, odd in a sense, considering what we had just done, yet fitting her personality nonetheless. I touched her cheek so as to silence her from saying a word. I knew that I had to get everything out or I would lose the ability to voice my thoughts and I'd been having these particular thoughts for quite some time now.
"The very first time I saw you, it's hard to believe that was a little over three years ago. I hadn't been back at the magazine for a week yet. You were wearing that funny blue polka dot dress, the same glasses you're wearing now and a funky pair of earrings. Your long blonde hair was back in a pony tail, which was the way you wore it most of the time back then. The dress was short and you were wearing heels, you always wear heels. I have often wondered if you feel self-conscious about your height, and yet, I've never bothered to ask you about it. I like the fact that you always wear heels and you walk very well in them. Do you know that men notice the way you walk -- or at least, that I notice?
I asked you for some help in researching a story that I was working on and I can barely recall what I said. I can remember thinking that you were adorable, funny, isn't it? But you were -- adorable, that is. I was working on the Boomer Candy Company story; they assigned it to me as my first story back. I'm sure that everyone thought I'd blow it or not be up to the challenge and I was determined to prove everyone wrong, that I wasn't just some washed-up hack writer who'd drank away all of his talent. Anyway, you looked at me and said you'd be glad to help and that you'd always liked my writing. I was sure that you were just humoring me until you quoted enough of my own work back to me to prove you knew who I was and that you were sincere. I went back to my desk to assemble what material I had and hoped I could manage to pull off some kind of decent piece for the deadline.
So what did I get from you? The typical Felicia Beck brilliance, which is to say, more than I could ever have imagined. You had pages of documents, quotes and articles and sources I could check and you helped me collate everything. By the end of the first day, I had enough for a pretty decent article. By the end of the week, by working with you as a team, I had interviewed enough people and had enough documentation that the magazine had a cover-featured article in their hands. I proved that the management of the Boomer Candy Company was cutting corners and using sub-standard material in their products, unbeknown to the Boone family shareholders. Once they caught wind of the article, they fired everyone and resumed control of the company. I still get a box of Boomer bars every month; I've never had the heart to tell them I can't stand the things. Good thing you love them, huh?"
Felicia was smiling at me and I'm sure that she thought I was off on some kind of rant, but she hadn't said a word. That was good because I had a lot more to say.
""Everyone at the magazine thought it was some kind of fluke, that Richard had pulled a rabbit out of a hat and that I'd screw it all up again. After all, I'd only been sober for six months at that point and I had a lot to prove. Even my family didn't have faith in me, but we owned the magazine and where else was I going to go? My next article was going to be on the supermarket industry and some of the stuff going on with the unions. I got a few carefully-worded `warnings' and I still didn't back off. You remember what happened next, right? One of the warnings got a little out of hand and I got the snot kicked out of me. I'd never seen you angry before, you helped bandage me up and we went after them with a vengeance. The DA said the work we did put at least 7 guys in jail, but it wasn't the work I did -- it was the research you did. I'm just the guy who strung the words together.
All those AA meetings and I don't think I could have held it together if you hadn't been my backup. When I finally was able to talk about Lauren and what her leaving did to me, it wasn't to them -- it was to you. Here we were, at an office Christmas party and you looked so beautiful -- that black dress, your prettiest heels and you were so lovely, you almost glowed. And yet, that was the time I chose to talk about how I was feeling and when I unburdened my soul. I dumped it all on you when you could have been having fun -- and what did you do?
You stayed with me the entire night and listened.
I never realized how much I was monopolizing your time or how selfish I was being, but if you felt that way, you never said a word to anyone.
We became a team, you and me. People were talking, some of the other writers made some pretty rude comments about drunk Richard and flaky Felicia. I nearly caused a scene in the office, but I didn't want to cause you any embarrassment. Yes, you're a bit eccentric and you have your peculiarities, like when you get super-excited about something -- but that's one of the things I love about you -- your enthusiasm. You care about things and you care about people. You genuinely believe in a better world and you should, because it is a better world because of people just like you.
I know I've told you that I rely on you and that I wouldn't be the success I am today without you, but I have to tell you again. It is so, so true. When the magazine offered to make me a contract employee again and take over the department, I almost jumped at the chance and then I realized something -- I wasn't interested if you weren't coming along for the ride. I told them that they had to promote you as well and make you the head of the research department, answerable only to me. They were a little hesitant at first, but my stuff is selling magazines and it's my family's name on the masthead, so what are they gonna do?"
By now, I had come to the part I knew was going to be the hardest and yet, Felicia had remained silent through every word. I took a deep breath and expressed my innermost thoughts.
"I know I haven't always appreciated you as a woman, more as a partner. I suppose that's in part because of my track record. The women in my life have a way of leaving me or letting me down or I let them down. No matter what, something always screws it up. Once romance enters the picture, it falls apart.
I know that Brendan has strong feelings for you and if you return them, that's okay. You should be happy; I want you to be happy. What happened between us last night, that was -- amazing. It will remain amazing in my mind for as long as I live. I will keep it between us for as long as I live, but Felicia, if I didn't tell you now, this very moment, I would never have forgiven myself.
I love you, Felicia Beck -- I always have and I always will." I took a final breath and stood up, ready to face whatever came next.
"Richard?"
I looked at this woman who had so long ago grabbed on to my heart and soul and held it tight. She had the power to crush me and yet, I knew whatever she did, I would be able to bear it because I trusted her.
"You had me at `Felicia'," she smiled at me and threw her arms around my neck. There were sharp bolts of lightning going through my body as the woman I loved returned my love the way I hoped she would. Yes, it might have been corny and a bit clichéd and I honestly didn't care. At that very moment, I was on top of the world and I was ready to stay there for a few thousand years, if need be.
Some couples need their love to go through a baptism or a test of fire. That had certainly been the case for the two of us, we had stayed partners and friends through every travail a person could survive. There are those that believe in fate and maybe that is true as well. I would not have met Felicia had I not decided to take a second chance at my writing career and believed in my own ability to succeed.
Yet, Felicia herself was a part of that. She was probably the best cheerleader an ex-drunk like me could have ever had. She believed in my abilities and she seemed able to find the chinks in my armor and the flaws in my writing. Her research always complimented and enhanced my own writing. If I got a bit maudlin, she would warn me and if I got morose or lost faith in a story, she wasn't afraid to slap me silly. She was also sensible enough to let me find my way to her.
After my wife Lauren left me, I'd given in. Only when my family threatened to cut off my trust did I decide to crawl out of the pit. Despite all my years of crawling into a bottle, I had retained a modicum of my writing ability. The spoiled rich kid had a way with words and so I came crawling back (my words) to the family magazine. What actually happened is my family threatened to make cutbacks if I wasn't rehired. That was all that they did and now, the onus was on me to prove I wasn't washed up. Here's where fate (and my old man) intervened.
