June 7, 2013
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tentative…
I don’t get a chance to wish D safe travels before his trip. I forgot my phone at home, which leaves me feeling oddly peaceful. I leave it sit when I get home, because I’m tired. I’ve worked two hours past the end of my shift to help a surgeon with a complicated surgery on a critically ill child. He’s in over his head, and I know that a change in the sterile team would likely stress him further. I’ve known him for over two decades, so I’m familiar and calming. The surgery took 6 hours.
At midnight the text comes in. Their flight was delayed so they had to fly into Boston. Their hour and a half ride to the cabin would end up taking two and a half hours. They had to rent a van – added unexpected expense. I snort in disgust and text a short message that we’re getting rain from a tropical storm that’s hitting the west coast on Thursday sometime.
I don’t add that it’s headed his way, and should arrive just in time to affect their weather adversely by Friday. The rally and the zip line excursion would be a rainy ones, and any bar hopping would be pretty treacherous. I keep it all to myself. I tell him that I’m glad they arrived safe, and that I hoped they had a good time. I apologize for not contacting him sooner and explain the reasons why.
He beams that he’s proud of me, which never fails to amaze me. It just rings so false. I have to trust my gut on this. He’s putting on a show for the people he’s traveling with.
Suddenly afraid that he’s going to accuse me of bragging I minimize the sacrifice, my experience. Angel me winces. “Why do you do that?” she hisses.
I look at her with sadness in my eyes, “It doesn’t matter.”It does matter.
He doesn’t respond back.
In the early hours, tornadoes and severe weather hit the area I live in like a bolt out of the blue. A house collapses on an elderly woman, shattering her legs. She comes in through Trauma Service, and when I look at her chart I realize that she lives a few roads away from me. Trees have fallen across roads, power poles have snapped…the water begins to rise in my yard.
I text that news to J, and ask if I need to check his girlfriend’s house. Then, afraid he’ll mention it to D, I tell that news to D, who expresses concern that I’ll be flooded.
He asks if I’m stranded at home. Devil me grins, and I smile back. “He’s hoping you won’t go out partying while he’s vacationing,” she giggles. I realize that the message I shot to J while he was trailering the motorcycles north- the one where I confessed that D was leaving me alone again, and that I was lonely – has been shared. J isn’t someone I can confide things to anymore. His loyalty now lies with D.
That bothers me a bit, but I remind myself that it’s all close to being over. It still hurts losing someone who was part of my childhood, but I won’t ask about it.
C has found free digs in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Another bike trip is being planned. I won’t be attending because I won’t be invited. I look at Angel me, and she pats my arm, “You need to move on. Tell him why, but move on for good this time.”
What do I say? She looks at me sadly and says, “Tell him that you love him but you need someone who isn’t always leaving you behind to go on another fabulous vacation or to play with friends…Tell him that you realize that he can’t travel with you – that you don’t want to repeat the disaster of the Keys – that you can’t travel with someone who will abandon you hundreds of miles from home with no way back. Tell him that you need to find someone who wants to spend time with you, who you can travel with, who….really loves you, and who doesn’t lie about things like that. Tell him that you’re unhappy….”
“Tell him that you don’t expect him to change, but that you can’t stay with someone who is never around. Tell him that you’re lonely, and that you need to be intimate more than a day or two a month…” I nod.
When he sends me a photo of himself, alone. I lose my resolve for a moment. Later, L posts photos of the women on the trip – the wives and steadies – and I look at them blankly. K’s wife acts sleazy and makes sure that she grabs her boobs a lot. The rest of them sport leather, mom jeans, and do rags. They all look hard. L often goes bra-less, which isn’t the best choice for a woman so heavy and so close to 50. There’s another guy, A, who just kind of materialized at the cabin. There’s an even 14. D hides behind everyone when photos are taken. He’s sensitive about his weight.
I had asked J to send me video and photo of the zip line participants. D was going to take the plunge, and I wanted to enjoy the sight of his vast behind roaring though the trees. I planned on dubbing sound effects over it – prolonged fart, sonic boom, a woman screaming….just for my own pleasure. I won’t see them. He’s D’s friend now.
Lost opportunity.
But I’m even more certain that I wouldn’t have enjoyed being there.
He comes back on Sunday. It will be easy to give him the brush off. I’ll tell him that I understand that he’s got laundry to do, food shopping. He’ll be tired. I’ll have things to get in order before the new week. I can beg off for dental appointments on Tuesday, a mandatory ethics conference on Thursday. When the weekend rolls around again, I’ll be brave enough to tell him that we’re not working out.
He’ll probably be happy about that. He’ll have all the time in the world to do what he wants. Besides, I’m sure he’s not missing me at all.
