December 5, 2001
Over and Over Again
I sat on the floor in the wedding aisle at about five-thirty today, staring at the yellow and cream flowers when I could have been pricing pine cosmos sprays. Stared at the flowers and felt my heart ring itself dry of tears on the linoleum floor.
Karen brought in her wedding pictures from her son's wedding. Said it was so cute, you could see him up on the altar mouthing to Jaime, his soon to be wife, 'I love you,' over and over again...
I sighed.
Anne, one of my lovely coworkers, giggled and remarked on the bridesmaids and their dresses, on the flowers; likely planning her upcoming June wedding on them. Her and her boyfriend have been dating since high school, best friends, waiting until after college to get married.
I sighed again.
So found me in aforementioned state, thinking of silent and one-sided fued with Ryan.
Which, this evening at 7:48, sprouted another side.
I predicted the conversation. I knew he would have a lame if plausible excuse for not calling, I knew I would feel guilty and he would aid me in doing so. What I did not anticipate was him telling me that his calling card had only fifteen minutes on it, and the last thing that would come out of my mouth before it cut our argument short would be 'I suck at this.'
How is it possible to not suck at this?
I can't just pretend that I am alright because he is under so much pressure. I realize he has important things to do. I realize that most of the time I am just being irrational. I don't know how to stop bursting into tears at a missed phone call. And not telling him only makes me feel worse.
Not that telling him made me feel better today. I feel so drained now; I feel like total shit. We argued. And nothing was solved after fifteen minutes. He can't dry my tears. His shoulder is a thousand miles away. And his voice is brushed raw of comfort by the crackling of long distance.
I can only hope he was giving it.
I know he was. I know he was. Because this is the only thing we fight about when we fight. My overreaction and his lack of. I miss him. He says he misses me but can't afford to show it right now. I believe him. But at the same time it hurts.
At the same time I am stopping in the middle of my day, crippled by the ache in my heart for him, daydreaming about something so far away and so unlikely. I don't even want it now. I just want to think about it. I just want to imagine him across from me, his eyes glittering and his lips twitching as he mouths he loves me, over and over again...
astera at 9:41 p.m.