“Maggie, you don’t know how lucky you are! Chad’s a great guy. When you meet someone like that, you don’t ask, “Why me, or what for?” You ask, “Why not?”
“Damn it, Crystal! That’s not what I’m asking. Meeting Chad was … I don’t know, I guess, almost too easy. How can we be so different, so alike, and get along so well?” Maggie’s tongue was on its third Margarita –-unfortunately, her brain was still on the second.
Crystal, the friend who didn’t drink at all, jumped in again. “I know you didn’t ask for this, Mags, but trust me. He’s a good guy and he’s been good for you. You keep asking if there’s a reason he’s in your life. Who the hell cares if there’s a reason? You get along well together, he treats you like you should be treated —that’s reason enough right there, don’t you think?
Look, for whatever reason, every so often heaven opens up and like a huge cow pie, someone special plops into our life. Maybe they are different from anyone we’ve known before. So what? That’s a good thing, Mags. Stop beating it to death.
Hell, I wish it were happening to me! I sure wouldn’t question it.”
“Crystal, things feel so different. I have nothing to compare it to. I think I even understand me better when we’re together; how can that be when it never was before? It’s a first.
I know he’s the one. But it’s the knowing, without knowing how I know that has me wrapped around the Maypole. How can I … know? Everything about him feels right --I’ve never had that. Can I trust the knowing?”
“Mags, this is the last I’m going to say about it. Yeah, it comes down to trust. We have to trust. Sometimes, the easy way is the only way. Stop pontificating. Be glad for the knowing.
C’mon, you’re shitfaced. Let’s go home.”