If I Never Knew You

She counted her funds one more time, and she had extra. It was time for her to make her move. Michael Palin, her Python crush ever since she was a kid, was finally in her orbit. She switched between working with John and Graham, then Terry J and Michael. She always tried to sit next to Michael when writing. Took deep breaths of his cologne. Greeted him more warmly than the others, so many times she stopped working to stare at him working, her heart beating wildly. Still, he seemed so far away from her. She loved meeting all the Pythons, of course, but Michael was the one she wanted to get closest to, and she was determined to do just that.

                It was finally Friday, the Pythons had the whole weekend off, and now it was going to be her time. She stopped Michael as he was leaving, “Hey, Michael, do you have a moment?” ‘Sure, what it is.” “Well, I was going to make dinner, and I hope you join me.” Michael looked down a bit, “Oh, um.” She panicked and said, “If you have plans, it’s okay, it was last-minute.” Michael seemed to be struggling a bit with something in his head. “No, that’s not right, you planned dinner for two, I should come, um, yes, I’m sure I should.” “What were you doing?” “Well, Helen is moving to Portsmouth, and a few of us were going to get together just a little thing with friends and her folks, but I’m sure it was her mom who probably did the cooking, and there should be plenty of food; what’s one less person?” Hallelujah, she thought. Helen is out of the picture. She wished The Pythons to be single, but Michael married Helen before he was a Python, and her fix point was the start of the 2^nd season. She did wonder what happened between them before that time, but she stopped caring. Here’s her chance to make him mine.

                To prepare, she tried to remember all the facts she learned about him, and she presented him with one of his favorite foods, steak pie and cake made with fresh strawberries. Michael was elated when dinner came and said, “I love steak pie and fresh strawberries, and you made them into a cake, brilliant.” “I was hoping you would.” She had to give herself a pat on the back for how clever she was. She loved seeing him eat it, even getting a few crumbs on his soft lips that she wished she could kiss and take the crumb off. Be cool, be cool, she thought. She then added, “The first time I had this cake was at the after-party of a play I performed in.” “Oh, which play?” “Oh, it was something small, probably never heard of it, Shakespeare, The Tempest!” “You’re kidding, I did Shakespeare. What role?” “Just a bit part, Caliban.” His face lit up again, “Oh, look at you pretending to be humble. Caliban is a huge part.” “Yes, ok, it is, guess that’s why they also wanted me to be Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream.” “Wow, we have a Shakespearean-trained actress in our midst.” “That’s the thing, it was my first time acting again after high school.” “Very impressive.” That was precisely the reaction she wanted, and she was telling the truth, except for the cake part; she did act in community theater, doing both roles.

                “Well, would you join me for some tea? I don’t want the night to end too early. I have a new jazz record I want to play. I hope you don’t mind.” Michael piped up, “No, go ahead, I love Jazz.” She doesn’t, not a fan of it at all. But this was for Michael. As he listened, he said, “I need to tell Helen about this record; she would enjoy it.” That stung, but she tried to brush it off. On her table was a carefully placed book on bird spotting. She knows that older Michael Palin liked birdwatching, but would young Michael notice the book? “Oh, bird spotting, kind of an old person's hobby.” “Uh, yeah, I guess it is.” She almost cursed herself, but then Michael continued, “Though still it’s interesting, I can see myself doing it, maybe in my twilight years, when I have the time. There has to be a reason people find it interesting.” Yes, she scored another point. She also watched his travel shows and found that to be her next in. “Actually, when I retire, I plan on traveling all over, maybe Brazil, the North Pole, the Orient.” All the places Michael will eventually go to, and he is keenly interested.

                Besides the UK, I can check off Canada and Belgium from my list. Michael was fascinated entirely, “Tell me more, what was it like?” “Canada was beautiful. I went in the winter, it was freezing but serene. I got to use my limited knowledge of French in Montreal. Found out the difference between American and French cheesecake.” “What is the difference?” “One is a bit more silky, can’t say which is better, they both do different things for me, but Canadian syrup is superior. Then, I took a bus tour to see the sights. I could only afford a day, I drove through New York to get there and saw the falls while I was in Upstate New York.” I bet it was beautiful.” “It truly was. Then there was Belgium, it was picturesque, I felt I stepped into a painting.” “Wow, I’d love to see it.”

                Now was the time for her to seize her chance. “Actually, Michael, there was a second reason I asked you here.” “Yes.” “I put money aside, and I have a train ticket to Belgium, well, actually I have two, and I was hoping you would be my plus one.” Michael gave her the most beautiful smile and said, “Wow, I love to go.” Then he paused and said, “But will we be back in time?” “Yes, we have an early train, and I can show you a lot before the last train.” Michael jumped up and tousled his hair. He couldn’t believe it, “Then yes, yes a 1000 times yes, I'd better go and get packed.” Then grabbed her hand, “Really, thank you for this.” She didn’t wash her hands when he left.

                The morning of the train ride, Michael was beaming as he greeted her, and she was over the moon to see him. Her moment with Michael. She made sure to pack fresh blueberries, another of his favorites. On the train ride, she sat next to him as they read a book by one of his favorite authors, Virginia Woolf, and discussed themes and feelings. He laughed to himself, “Helen won’t believe I took a train to Belgium.” Fuck Helen, she thought this was her moment. Helen is set to leave on the next thing smoking to Portsmouth, and she can stay there for all she cares.

                They arrived in Brussels, and the market square was bustling. He was fascinated by all the people and stopped to talk to them. She felt this was going to be their entire trip. They tasted some chocolates, bought some, and tried some street escargot. Michael was taking so many pictures, so she offered him her camera so he wouldn’t run out of film. “Are you sure? What about your memories?” “Remember, I’ve been here, it’s also going in my diary, I’ve been keeping one since I was 16.” No, she hasn’t. She often forgets to write in her diary and hasn’t written a thing since she’s been in the past. “Diary keeping is important, I’ve been writing in mine for years, I will always have one, the adventures life can bring.” Or death for that matter, but all she said was “Indeed.”

                Then she brought him to a quirky statue, which was a little boy peeing, and he couldn’t help but laugh. She said, “This is little man peeing or Manneken Pis, the story goes, when German soldiers tried to storm the city, he stood on the gates and peed on them.” “That is so cheeky and brilliant.” “They dress him in different outfits. Rumor has it that some local artists want to construct Jeanneke Pis for equality, but I don’t know if they ever will.” They will, but it won’t be until 1985, and she hopes she can take Michael back there someday. “This is amazing history.” “Oh, that’s nothing, against the French; they had the battle of the golden spurs. They ask French soldiers, ’friend or foe,’ and those who couldn’t answer in Flemish were killed; they used the terrain to their advantage and collected over 500 golden spurs.” “Wow.” “One time, the French kicked them out of their town, they waited until nightfall when they were asleep, and came back and killed them all. The Belgians are nice people, but vicious.” “All of this is fascinating. You should be a history teacher.” “I actually wanted to be one before I became a theater kid.” Which was true.  He stated “I love History.” She knows.  

                The next stop was the Atomium. Michael was like a kid in a candy store; he picked up the brochure and read through it quickly, seeming to take in every word. He just looked in awe at everything, and they finally made it to the top. He looked over the city. He said, “This is breathtaking.” He looked so beautiful against the backdrop of blue skies and fluffy clouds. She wanted to take his hand, but told herself to be cool. All she said was, “It is a beautiful sight,” and she wasn’t talking about the view outside. In the gift shop, he picked up two Atomium, and she asked, “You love it that much, you have to get 2.” “Well, I have to bring Helen one. I had a going-away gift planned, but this is much better. I'd better get her a postcard too. Do you think she will like it?” “I think it’s time for our next stop.” She tried to hide her annoyance.

                They took a trip to Ghent to see Het Gravensteen. It was an old castle that still had a torture chamber inside, Michael said excitedly, “I wish we had this for the Spanish Inquisition sketch. Think we will get in trouble if we try to use it.” “Drop the intrusive thoughts, don’t worry, I thought the same, but I didn’t factor in bail money for our trip.” They both shared a laugh; she loved hearing him laugh. She stood a little closer to him; it wasn’t a hand-hold, but their shoulders together were enough for now.

                They made their way back to Brussels to a Belgian restaurant, and she urged him to try eel in green sauce. She goaded him, “Come on, if you’re going to be a season traveler, you have to eat the local dishes.” “Right you are.” When the food arrived, he was a bit hesitant, but the minute it touched his lips, he let out a “mmm” and started eating happily. She was pleased, but then again, she knew he would be an adventurous eater on his travels, so it was a safe gamble. She finally decided to make her move. “Michael, we have a few more hours. There is one more place I like to go.” “Where’s that?” “To a hotel, Michael, I have feelings for you.” “I kind of figured, this is not a trip you take just a friend on.” His hazel eyes met hers, and her heart felt like it was going to break out of her chest. “Patricia, I had a wonderful time, and I think we should cement this trip together. I love to spend the night with you.” She could cry, but she was trying to hold back her tears;  she finally got Michael, the man she had loved for so long.

                Back at the hotel, they barely got through the door before they were enthralled in a kiss. His kisses were passionate, delicate, perfect. She ran her finger through his soft, wavy hair. They collapsed on the bed; her body ached for him. He caresses her all over, and she can’t control her hands either. He stopped for a bit and started to unbutton his shirt. The look in her eyes made her feel so desired. When he was shirtless, she rubbed her hands on his slightly hairy chest. And kissed him deeply, but she felt herself slowly pulled from the moment; someone was in her head. Helen.

                Suddenly she thought of Michael's interviews talking about his dear wife, scenes of East of Ipswich about his summer in Suffolk, and loved her since 17, the countless pics of them, how broken he was by her death, and the fact they had been married for 57 years. She wanted him badly, but she couldn’t erase this. She even tried to tell herself to at least be intimate with him, to feel him, and then she could set the timeline right, but she couldn’t. She broke. She was not the one who should be here.

She stops him abruptly, “Michael, stop!” He looked startled, “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” “No.” Then she got up from under him and said, “I did.” “What?” “Michael, I’m not the one meant to be here with you. Helen is.” Michael looked confused. “Helen, why would you say that?” “Michael, do you realize you mentioned her 2 times on this trip, and the night I played Jazz for you?” “No, I didn’t. I’m really sorry. It’s just that she is my best friend, but we’re not together, and she’s leaving, I won’t bring her up again, and it can be just you and me.” She held back her tears. She wanted that to be true, but she would always be in the shadows of a ghost.

                “Michael, you and Helen are more than just friends, and somewhere in you, you know that too.” Michael looked down and couldn’t face her. She continued, “Did you ever try to date her?” “We did date. I was pretty serious about her, thought we would take the next step, and then something happened. I woke up the next day and felt that something was holding me back. Maybe it was a sign from God.” Or maybe a time keeper, but she couldn’t tell him that. Michael finished, “I thought of changing my mind a dozen times, but then one day I didn’t have those thoughts anymore.” “Do you know about when?” “Maybe a few months ago.” She knew it, it was when she arrived. The next thing was hard for her to say.

                “Michael, you should go to her, or you’re going to spend your life with regrets and looking for her in everyone.” “But she’s leaving.” She jumped up, “Then stop her, Michael, do what you have to do, but don’t let her leave. She belongs in London, she belongs with you!” Michael started breathing heavily, then said, “But I have feelings for you too.” “No, you don’t, not really. Michael, I asked around about you and learned some things. This whole day has been me telling you what I thought you wanted to hear; some of it was true, but some of it wasn’t. I barely keep a diary, I don’t like jazz, and it's a cold day in hell if you ever see me bird spotting, I don’t even like birds!” “But I don’t go bird spotting.” “It was a hunch you seemed like the type, but none of that matters because I’m a fraud and she’s not; she’s in London, and she is yours.” Michael sat down on the bed, processing it all. She spoke up, “I have enough funds to get another room.” “No, I can go find a room.” He got dressed and barely met her gaze before he walked out. He said, “I did have a lovely time with you, thank you for today, and I’m sorry.” “No, I am. Good night, Michael.” Her heart broke in pieces each time the closing door obscured a little more of him, bit by bit.  

                She sat elsewhere on the train, and they didn’t say anything to each other when they got to their destination. She spent her Sunday in her bed; she couldn’t do much of anything. She prayed Monday wouldn’t come, but it did anyway.

                On Monday, during a break, Michael caught up to her. “Patricia, may I speak with you?” “Yes, of course.” “I talked to Helen, she was upset at my timing, upset I blew her party off, and then we talked and talked and did so until the early morning. We decided to make a go of it, and after a nap, all her packed stuff, I’m moving into my flat. I know you probably think we’re moving too fast,” “No, not if you’re making up for lost time, and you are.” “I thought you should know.” “No, I’m glad you told me, I just know you will be happy together.” She gave him a tight hug and excused herself. Then she had to rush outside.

                She broke down crying the loudest cry she ever had. She cradled herself; her whole body hurt, not just her heart. She wanted the undo to happen then and there; she couldn’t take it. All these years, all that love is gone. She sat there crying and covered her face with her hands. She didn’t notice footsteps had approached her, and someone crouched down to her level. A hand touched her cheek. She looked into the person's eyes; they were deep, soulful, almost raven. It was Terry Jones. She couldn’t speak, and he didn’t make her; all he did was hold her in a tight embrace. And she cried on his shoulders for as long as she needed.