Tonight I Cried
The whole day at work today, I could not concentrate. Images of my time with Matt yesterday kept flashing in my head and I missed him. I was also dreading the talk I am meant to have with my sister later this evening. We had arranged to meet for coffee. I was early in getting to Starbucks. Nervously, I took out a cigarette and inhaled deeply. That helped calm me down a little. “I’m here” my sister startled me from behind. Her eyes moved to my cigarette and she frowned. “Let's sit inside, where you can't smoke."
Inside, my sister looked at me and asked "Tell me how it happened, why and what you intend to do about it." I could not meet her eyes. The how was easy. But the whys and what-to-dos were issues I could find no answers to. I tell her how Matt and I started. “I know what I’m doing is wrong, but it feels so right.” I said. Her eyes softened. “You know that you’re just going to get hurt. So why do it?” My heart ached. How can I tell her that the love I felt was the kind that switched off the mind and turned on the heart? “I never meant to get involved, it just happened.” I squeaked. I must have lost any chance of winning her because she blew up “What do you mean 'it just happened'? Did you ever think, in your selfish little head, how unfair this is to his wife? You’re an adult, you make your own choices. Nobody took a gun to your head and asked you to f* him.” That hurt.
The rest of the evening while she berated me, I mumbled half-hearted replies and stared blankly into my coffee. Fifteen minutes later, she left angrily on the note “I expected more from you.” I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole right then. After she left, I sat there alone surrounded by two full mugs of cold latte for a full thirty minutes. My mind raced with all the possible posthumous arguments I could have made but did not - they could hold no ground either. I got up and walked in the direction of Balaclava. Make it stop hurting.
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I try to call Matt but I can’t get him. I finish what’s left of my second glass of red wine and dial his number again. Nobody picks the call up. She must be beside him. The guy at the other table buys me another glass of red wine. I toast him distractedly. I need to talk to Matt. I desperately need him to hold me in his arms and tell me that everything’s going to be ok. I need him to reassure me that I am still a good person. I hate that I have become so needy. Back home, I try to call him again. He has switched off his phone. They must be in bed by now.
Inside, my sister looked at me and asked "Tell me how it happened, why and what you intend to do about it." I could not meet her eyes. The how was easy. But the whys and what-to-dos were issues I could find no answers to. I tell her how Matt and I started. “I know what I’m doing is wrong, but it feels so right.” I said. Her eyes softened. “You know that you’re just going to get hurt. So why do it?” My heart ached. How can I tell her that the love I felt was the kind that switched off the mind and turned on the heart? “I never meant to get involved, it just happened.” I squeaked. I must have lost any chance of winning her because she blew up “What do you mean 'it just happened'? Did you ever think, in your selfish little head, how unfair this is to his wife? You’re an adult, you make your own choices. Nobody took a gun to your head and asked you to f* him.” That hurt.
The rest of the evening while she berated me, I mumbled half-hearted replies and stared blankly into my coffee. Fifteen minutes later, she left angrily on the note “I expected more from you.” I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole right then. After she left, I sat there alone surrounded by two full mugs of cold latte for a full thirty minutes. My mind raced with all the possible posthumous arguments I could have made but did not - they could hold no ground either. I got up and walked in the direction of Balaclava. Make it stop hurting.
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I try to call Matt but I can’t get him. I finish what’s left of my second glass of red wine and dial his number again. Nobody picks the call up. She must be beside him. The guy at the other table buys me another glass of red wine. I toast him distractedly. I need to talk to Matt. I desperately need him to hold me in his arms and tell me that everything’s going to be ok. I need him to reassure me that I am still a good person. I hate that I have become so needy. Back home, I try to call him again. He has switched off his phone. They must be in bed by now.
1 Comments:
This is the most interesting blog I've read. You are a wonderful writer.
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