It came as no surprise. I turned the corner and remembered suddenly that this has happened before. And his figure was there, the streets empty of cars, the sidewalks quiet and wide, and he stood out among the cement, a lone man with his perpetual baseball cap, his long lean body, the man that I thought was going to be mine someday.
How wrong I was. It all seems so silly to me now, a waste of time, an obvious mess. The last time I saw the drunken ambusher I was a giddy thrilled caricature of myself. This time there was the lack of his pull on me. I had no need to fall into his orbit, he had no power over me. In fact, I barely broke my stride as I approached him, said hello, and continued on.
Of course, I am still impressed by our banter, which has never wavered from top shelf quality exchanges the sort worthy of another era where puns, words and wittiness were prized above all else. It is rare that I muster up the verbal enthusiasm needed for those exchanges with people, but he brings that out in me. I am always trying to impress him, I guess.
My eyes were tearing up from a host of different things, I had just put on makeup, I'm allergic to the cats, I was saddened by the typical morning glumness of the kid, when I turned the corner. I rolled my eyes. I had to walk past him to get to the cafe, I had to wipe away the streaming tears. And they wouldn't stop. By the time I reached him, I looked up to see him expecting my approach, resigned to speaking to me, a little concern in his eyes.
He asked if I was crying. I said I was just allergic to being outside. We laughed. We said other things, pleasantries, and then I turned and kept walking.
When I arrived at the cafe I realized that clarification was needed, that our encounter was awkward in some ways, that it may have seemed like I was trying to get away from his as fast as possible. I texted him, which I haven't done in about a week and a half. And even that was a fluke. Mostly it's been three weeks, since the brit's arrival on my horizons, since I realized that feeling and having a mutual attraction was so much more worthwhile.
Our texts were still friendly, because we're more comfortable there, in words, than face to face, and I told him about not getting in to Iowa. And he didn't respond. And for an hour or so I figured he was just busy arriving to work in the cab that he stood waiting in the barren street for. After that, I realized that he didn't register it, because it was sandwiched in between two unrelated sentences. No one could be that self absorbed and insensitive. Well, I didn't think he had it in him, despite his track record.
And I didn't hound him, or wonder or care. I actually forgot all about it until I saw him again this morning, except this time I was already at the cafe, walked down the empty street figuring he'd been and gone, but an hour later his figure ambled into my peripheral vision and my eyes were drawn up from the newspaper to see who was there. And he waved, smiled, and I did the same in return and he kept walking in search of his cab.
My eyes went back to the paper, but the memory of his ignoring my news returned, so I launched up out of my chair and headed out after him. His eyes were desperately scanning the streets and he welcomed my arrival at his side with those eyes, the kind of sad sick eyes that you never want to see, the sort of eyes that glaze over you as an obstacle blocking the road ahead.
I tried to tell him, but he was too frantic, too stressed about being late to work, too freaked out. When it finally broke in, he actually stopped, he actually lost that distant faraway look and looked me in the eye, not afraid of me anymore, and gave me his sorrows, offered me a hug and mourned with me. And I told him, what I've tried to tell the rest of them, but it felt real telling him, not like a defense mechanism, that it's okay, because it doesn't matter, and now, the now is so much more exciting than that.
And the cab he needed arrived and he said it, he knew it, he said that the world was mine now.
And even though in my heart I've never loved him more than I did in that moment, when he was able to step out of himself and really be with me even just for a moment, and not just be with me, but get me completely, I don't feel like there's anything more to do or say with him. I don't feel the need to chase him into my life again. And that is what the brit gave me. And I am so glad.
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