Way down Hadestown

It’s 2019 and I’m in New York, 8,000 miles away from home, away from all the problems I’ve left behind. I’ve become somewhat of an expert at escapism—or at least that’s what I’m told about being a Pisces—and yet here I am, standing in front of this blatant reminder that no matter how far I am, I’d never really be able to escape him. Not when I’m in the one place I promised him we would visit someday.

The banner billboard was massive, covering four floors of the Walter Kerr Theatre: “COME SEE HOW THE WORLD COULD BE.” The world had he not shattered our friendship. The world had I decided to forgive. The world with him still in mine.

I first met Lorenzo* in my senior year of college. We both sat in the back row of our classroom, but with my head buried so deep in textbooks, I never paid attention to him. Fate corrected this because a few months after we graduated, Lorenzo and I ended up teaching at the same place. I was meant to be in a different department, he was meant to be in a different school, and yet all the elements of the universe conspired to bring us together.

We were fast friends. We first bonded over our mutual hatred for the bureaucracy our workplace held on to so dearly. And in a moment of complete rebellion, we spent our first night out together swapping life stories instead of actually working.

I knew it instantly—our spirits were kindred.

Time had—as it often did when we were together—escaped us. Somewhere in between raving about “Phantom of the Opera” and discourse analysis, a new day had dawned upon us. The gentle glow of the morning sun highlighted his best features and in that moment, his face looked as though it had been sculpted by the gods themselves.

He was ethereally handsome in a way that made people do a double take. We would walk from whatever restaurant we were at to a nearby coffee shop, and nine out of 10 people would look at him. I, however, was drawn to him not for his looks but for his intelligence and personality.

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It’s 2018. I’m seated in my car, looking at him. He’s searching for the right words to gently break my heart. Gentle or not, all heartbreak is created equal and it is devastating all the same.

He has never been exceptional at math but on this night, he’s an accountant, tallying up all my wrongdoings and somehow discounting all the things I’ve done right. I am rendered speechless. How do you begin to speak when all these subjective perceptions about you are declared as universal truths?

He continues down this path, destroying the foundations of our friendship; he makes quick work of it and expertly taints every good memory we’ve had. After listing all my shortcomings, he says something along the lines of appreciating me and about how our connection is genuine. He says he values me, despite what he’s just done. He says that he hopes the clarity makes things better. A quiet fury washes over me.

There’s a moment right after he’s done speaking where there is absolute silence. I’m still reeling from everything he’s just said and he’s waiting for my reply.

Time, according to Albert Einstein, is not absolute. Time is relative, unlike what Newtonian physics would have us believe. The rate at which time passes is mutable and relative to each person. To Lorenzo, his rehearsed speech lasted 10 minutes, and the moment right after, a few seconds. To me, that moment lasted a year.

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It is precisely when I’m around Port Authority bus terminal, a couple of blocks away from my hotel, that doubt creeps in. My head and heart go to war. Rarely do they fight but when they do, they rage.

All the thoughts I’ve skillfully repressed for the past year come screaming back with a vengeance. What reason do I have to let him back into my life? But feelings betray any logical thought. And a deep and piercing wave of nostalgia overcomes me. All the nights spent talking until dawn. The day I lined up with him for six hours at a government office to get an application form despite being sick. That phase when we were addicted to Korean BBQ. All the Broadway show tunes. Our promise to watch a Broadway play. I remember it all and I surrender to the feeling.

I open up Messenger and for the first time in a year type “Hey Lorenzo.” Throwing caution to the wind, I press send.

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It’s 2023 and Lorenzo has become my favorite travel companion. I don’t know what the landscape of my life would look like if I had let my head win; I am glad every day it didn’t. Letting my heart prevail is what allowed me to experience this kind of love. One defined by an attunement to kindness, by deep understanding, and ultimately by forgiveness.

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Michelle Melchor, 29, is a microbiologist who is currently pursuing higher education in order to specialize in the field of medical microbiology. She recently graduated with a master’s degree in biology. *Lorenzo is not his real name.