Personal Narrative On Dr Jekyll And Mr Hyde

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I admit it. I had become smitten with my esteemed and beloved physics professor who made the mechanics of matter and energy astoundingly simple and beautiful. As the hours I had spent with him. Yet, my heart remained wary. He would never be fully available to me. Since, from all appearances, he and his wife were content.
Meanwhile, Mark and I had grown further apart. His demanding academic curriculum put stress on him. So, to lessen his anxiety, he smoked marijuana daily. However, to stay alert for class, he drank cups of coffee, as well. The combination caused his temperament to fluctuate between being spaced out vs. extreme agitation. He’d quarrel with his professors when they refused to let him pass in assignments late. He had done it
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We shouted back and forth. And when push came to shove, I ended up on the kitchen floor of our apartment with shattered glass and broken china all around me. For a sec, I felt stunned, but soon went into survival mode. I recalled the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde life I had endured growing up with my drunken abusive dad. No way, would I repeat that terror again with Mark.
Not long after the incident, with Malcolm’s support, I packed my car with clothes, favorite books, photographs and little else and drove to L.A. My Beatles, Dylan and Rolling Stones CDs I left with Mark. I figured it was the least I could do for breaking his heart. Malcolm and I vowed to stay in touch, but with a wife, two kids and a full-time teaching position, our communication tapered off and one day stopped. Our lives went on unconnected. Until, fifteen years later, when I came across his name. Earlier in the day, I’d gone for a walk at the beach in Santa Monica and mingled with strangers along the boardwalk. For dinner, I made crab cakes and drank several glasses of white wine. Too early for bed, I checked my phone messages. Then, afterwards, I browsed my laptop for contact lists of former colleagues and friends. With the hope, I could network with some in the coming
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And then, gave excuses why it wasn’t possible. The job market is competitive. And that it’s important that I stay put and make an effort to network. “All true,” he said. “But you deserve a break. When you come, we’ll celebrate your birthday with cake and champagne. My guest house is vacant and ready for you.”
With that, I decided. How can I refuse a man who remembered my birthday? And who has a plan, and the desire to make me happy? Even so, I wondered had he become a New Age guru and abandoned his teaching position at the university. Besides, what about his wife, would she welcome me, as well.
Also, the city of Berkeley was loaded with memories drenched with drama. Through the years, I had buried them deep inside my psyche. It’s true that every street, restaurant, café or night spot would be a roadmap to dislodge them.
Even so, I was willing to throw caution to the wind. Since Malcolm and I had been more than friends. Once, we were two people in love, though, not solely with each other. It was complicated. Still, I wanted to revisit him again. And, to leave behind L.A. - the city where the dreams I dreamed as a younger woman had dissipated into the hot ethers of the Santa Ana winds - perhaps never to return again. “Okay,” I replied. “I can’t
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