I woke up the next morning, instantly nervous.
It had been too easy.
We'd had too much fun.
I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Terrified that once he had gotten what he wanted, he wouldn’t want it anymore.
That now that he knew there was a chance for us to make this work, it would no longer be worth the effort for him.
He texted me mid-day though. Just to check in, and see how I was.
And then he called again that night. Just to talk.
It was too soon to let myself breathe, but… I was starting to exhale.
The following night I had plans to go see a concert with friends. I had mentioned it to him the night before, but intentionally hadn’t thrown out an invite.
Even though they all knew I was talking to him again, I wasn’t sure I could cope with the embarrassment of actually bringing him around.
Not after the tears I’d shed over what he’d said.
But as the day wore on, I started to feel guilty.
I can’t really explain why, but I just did. He was trying, and I felt like maybe I should be too.
So I invited him.
He asked what time we were going, but eventually declined. He didn’t say what he was doing instead, and I didn’t ask. We shared a few texts that night, but he was shorter with me than he had been.
Those fears started to creep in. Had he already started to regret asking for another chance?
Was he already over it?
It was silly. He hadn’t really done anything to make me think he was pulling away.
But he also hadn’t done anything that day to make me think he was still invested.
In a normal relationship, without so much of the previous roller coaster in its wake, I never would have thought twice about the interactions (or lack thereof) we shared that day.
I've never been a needy girl.
But under the circumstances… I spent most of that night worried.
Insecurity getting the best of me.
The voices in my head telling me “I told you so…” even as my heart tried to battle them down.
By the time I went to bed, I had convinced myself we were already done.
But then he called the next morning. Just to check in on me. To see how my night had been, and to go over plans for the weekend.
It was Labor Day. The last big holiday weekend in Alaska.
Things hadn’t been good between us for long enough where I felt comfortable planning to spend the entire weekend together. So he made plans to go fishing that day and the next, and I made plans to spend time with Loo before she left for Texas. The fair was in town, and he and I talked about going there together on Sunday for a concert, but we made no plans beyond that.
He said he would call me Saturday night when he got home.
And about two hours later, Loo informed me that her out of state fiancé had managed to book a last minute ticket to come up and surprise her for the weekend.
So any plans I did have up to that point, promptly went bust.
It was fine though. I could have driven to meet other friends a few hours outside of town, but decided instead to stick around close to home getting things done and being productive. I was totally content with spending my Labor Day weekend taking care of things around the house.
Yeah… Even I’m not buying that.
Which is why when he texted me the next night to let me know he was back in town and to ask if I wanted to meet he and some friends for dinner, I rapid fired back with 3 different texts.
All addressing 3 different subjects.
One, right after the other, right after the other.
I might have been a wee bit excited.
He immediately called me laughing. “You must have missed me, huh?” He said.
We talked for a few minutes and came up with a plan. He was just getting home and wanted to take a shower and do a few other things first. I’d just gotten out of the shower myself and still needed to get ready. They had decided on a restaurant out by him, so we agreed I would just drive out there to meet them. We set a time, and then each went about getting ready.
We had fun at dinner; the four of us drinking and eating and catching up. And when the bill came, we all decided to head back to the boys house to continue the evening sitting out by the fire pit.
My head told me I should pass. We would be drinking, and I knew I wouldn’t want to drive myself home after that. His buddy’s girlfriend was already proposing we pick the two of us up a bottle of wine before heading that way, and I knew this was going to end with me spending the night there.
Which I knew wasn’t a good idea.
Not yet.
Not so soon.
And not with both of us drinking.
But I was having fun. I liked spending time with these people. I liked being with the boy. And I didn’t want to be the stick in the mud who started interjecting “rules” upon what otherwise would have been a completely normal evening for the four of us.
It wasn’t like they were oblivious to the fact that the boy and I had spent a few weeks apart. They were both pretty versed in what had gone down between us. I think they would have understood if I’d simply passed and driven myself home instead.
But still… I couldn’t bring myself to say “no”.
Probably because I didn’t want to.
No matter what my head was saying.
So we went to his house. And the four of us sat around the fire drinking and talking for hours. Laughing over horror stories from all of our dating pasts. Telling stupid jokes. Discussing our plans for the following day.
At one point, I went inside to pour myself a little more wine, and the boys buddy followed me. We’d hung out a handful of times by now, and I had grown to really like his girlfriend. We wound up standing there in the kitchen discussing their relationship, which inevitably turned into us discussing my relationship with the boy.
He told me he knew that things had been rocky, but that he also knew that the boy really cared about me. I mentioned the comment the boy had made, and my underlying fears that he really wasn’t attracted to me. His immediate response was “It’s not that. I know it’s not that. I don’t know why he ever would have said that, but I know he’s definitely attracted to you.”
He went on to tell me that the boy was just going to need some time though. That he was an over-thinker who wouldn’t be over what she had done to him until he either understood it, or decided to actually let it go.
He didn’t think either would happen any time soon.
I knew this. I understood it too, because… it’s how I am as well.
But it was nice to have his buddy looking out for me a bit. Wanting to make sure I knew what I was getting into.
He assured me that he did know the boy cared about me though. And that above and beyond all else, he didn’t want to hurt me.
We headed back out to the fire, but it wasn't long after that before his girlfriend and I realized that both guys had tipped over into being drunk. We were laughing and wondering aloud how and when they had surpassed us (as both she and I were still doing relatively well), but it probably had something to do with the fact that we were sharing a bottle of wine, while they were kicking back whiskey and cokes.
Easy on the coke.
We decided to get them both to bed, and said “goodnight” with the plan on the table that we would head out to explore Alaska a bit the next day.
When we got upstairs, I was immediately frustrated when I realized I hadn’t packed a bag.
I hadn’t been planning on spending the night, so it had never occurred to me to pack my toothbrush.
The boy was quick on the draw though, pulling out a new one just for me.
I had spent the night there on more than a few occasions without a toothbrush.
This was the first time he had ever supplied one for me. The first time he had ever pointed out where I should keep it for the future.
Such a simple gesture, that somehow still meant so much.
When we crawled into bed though, I still had every intention of keeping things PG.
We still hadn’t kissed. Still hadn’t had any physical contact at all in over a month.
I wasn’t ready for us to jump off that bridge back into too much too fast.
But I also knew how difficult it could be to draw a line that had never really been there before.
And when he leaned over to kiss me, it suddenly became even more difficult.
I resisted though. I held strong. Despite the wine I’d consumed. Despite how passionately he was kissing me. And despite the many attempts he made over the next several hours to get me to go further.
I resisted.
And yes, I did say the next several hours.
The two of us did not get much sleep that night.
I only knew that I wasn’t ready for this though. That we weren’t ready for this.
And that more than anything, when and if we did cross that line; I did not want it to be something he could later blame on alcohol.
So, I held firm. Strong in my stance that we weren’t going to go there.
For once, my head was finally winning out.
Until the next morning that is. When he was sober, yet still so sweet. So attentive. So cuddly and cute and… into me.
I’ll spare you the details of what went down on the bathroom sink, but suffice it to say…
My heart won out.
Or maybe it's fair to say that bit had far more to do with parts of me other than my heart.
Because the truth is, even as it was happening – I couldn’t get into it.
I was terrified.
My head was screaming at me.
Calling me stupid, and naïve, and a masochist.
And when it was done, even my heart was scolding me.
Because I certainly hadn’t just done my best to protect it.
As he was showering after, I sat silently on the bed freaking out. When he was done, he must have noticed my panic.
“Do you regret it?” He asked.
“Do you?” I countered.
He assured me he didn’t though. That for probably the first time, this had been exactly what he wanted. That the voices in his head making him feel guilty and unsure hadn’t been there at all.
He was smiling. And being reassuring. Still adamant that this was all what he wanted.
And I wanted so badly to believe him.
But that voice in my head just kept getting louder.
Once we finished getting ready, the 4 of us went to breakfast before heading out for a drive.
I’d never been through Hatchers Pass before, and the boy thought it was time I see it for myself.
Plus, Dee and her husband were camping out there, so the goal was to find their campsite and stop in to say “hi”.
It was a beautiful drive, and another gorgeous day in Alaska.
We were all tired after getting next to zero sleep the night before, but we were having a good time and it wasn’t long before we did happen upon Dee and their group.
Dee and I almost immediately escaped down by the river to discuss how things were going. She'd told me 1000 times before that the boy really was a good guy, but I knew at this point she was hesitant about us spending time together. Worried about me, and his ability to protect me while still sorting through his own mess.
When I gave her an update on the weekend thus far, we were both cautiously optimistic. Weeks before when the boy had let both she and her husband know that he was missing me, she had urged him to stay away. To give it time. To let us both heal before trying again.
But obviously, he hadn’t taken that advice.
Dee and I had engaged in this conversation more than a few times now.
She believed we definitely had it in us to be great together.
But she also worried that the boy was nowhere near ready for great.
That he would destroy us before we ever had a chance.
She wasn’t alone in those worries.
He was being good that day though. Tired, yes, but still attentive. Still himself. Still there, with me.
After we left their campsite, we wound up heading to his buddy's family cabin. While sitting around the campfire, his mom mentioned that there was a lot of firewood that needed to be moved across the property. Before I knew it, the boy was standing up to volunteer both he and his friend to take care of it.
His buddy was shooting him death glares from his seat across the fire, realizing almost instantly that the boy had just signed him up for manual labor.
On his holiday weekend.
When he was hung-over and tired.
The boy didn’t think twice though. He went right to work, and kept at it until all of the wood was moved. Almost two hours later.
I’ve got to admit, that was it for me. The point when I finally told my head to shut the hell up.
This was the boy I had fallen for. The one who was sweet, and good, and kind. For all the fears that had been running through my head, this was a glimpse of the man I wanted.
The man I loved.
When they finished up, I had a hard time keeping my hands off of him.
Not in a sexual way, but just in a… I wanted to be connected to him way.
I wanted to be touching his knee, or holding his hand.
After feeling so held back with my affection towards him over not just the last week, but the last few months, I suddenly wanted to be showering him with it.
I am definitely someone who shows (and feels) love through physical affection, and it was clear to me that this change signaled that I was starting to let myself trust him again.
To let myself see the man beneath all the hurt.
But recognizing that this shift had come upon me quickly and unexpectedly, I tried to hold myself back.
I only put my hands on him a few times – I swear.
I was starting to relax in this though.
In us.
When we left, I mentioned Lindsey’s family lake house, which wasn’t too far away from where we were.
I knew that she and her husband were there with friends, and that they had just arrived back from her IVF cycle a few days before.
I really wanted to see her, and had brought it up earlier in the day as well.
But for some reason, the boy didn’t seem to want to go. When I’d broached the subject in the morning, he had pretty quickly shut it down. Saying that by the time we were heading back we would all already be too tired. And that he didn’t want to get stuck out there all night after the lack of sleep we’d had the night before.
All valid points, but still… I brought it up again.
I really wanted to see her.
And again, he shut the idea down. Citing all the same reasons and proclaiming that he just didn’t want to.
I let it go. Figured I would drive there myself in the morning. I wasn’t exactly upset. I was tired too, and I understood (to an extent) why he didn’t want to go.
But still… it would have been nice if he'd done it if only because he knew I wanted to.
The funny thing is, it was just as I was thinking this that he suddenly pulled down the road heading in their direction.
Without a word. Without ever saying he had changed his mind.
He drove the four of us there.
I was through the moon. Again, something so small that had meant so much to me.
Forcing those voices in my head to quiet down even more.
I found out after the fact that his buddy had later told his girlfriend that the boy must really be in love with me, because he’d never before seen him do anything he hadn’t wanted to.
It was true, the boy could be stubborn. And set in his ways. And sometimes, even incredibly selfish.
Without ever really meaning to.
I always kind of blamed it on his being an only child.
But he’d turned down that street. Even though he hadn’t wanted to.
Solely because he knew I did.
I didn’t realize his friends had caught on to the significance of that act, but I had.
My head shut up entirely.
And my heart was doing a victory dance.
We spent a few hours there before heading back to the boy’s house. On the drive, my eyes started to droop and I caught myself falling asleep more than once. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this tired. I’d even had coffee with breakfast that morning – something I hadn’t done in over a year. The boy had immediately reacted with shock when I’d ordered it, knowing that I usually avoided caffeine completely because of how bad it was for endometriosis.
But I hadn’t been able to shake that exhaustion.
As soon as we arrived back at his place I jumped into the shower and then threw on one of his t-shirts before going to bed. He and his buddy proceeded to watch Rambo, but I was passed out before they were even 15 minutes in. I never heard them again, and didn’t wake at all when he curled up in bed himself.
Which is totally out of the realm of normal for me – a notoriously light sleeper.
The next morning I know he said something to me upon waking up, and I know I said something back, but I have no idea what. I was deliriously tired. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the start of that mysterious illness I came down with last fall.
Like mono, except without the sore throat.
All I know is that I’d been irritated with him for waking me, and had rolled away from him before falling right back asleep.
When I woke again, he was in the shower. Even though I felt like I could still sleep for another few hours, I forced myself up and into the bathroom.
I popped my head in the shower to tell him good morning, but he barely looked at me when he said it back. I asked him a few questions, and he responded with only one word answers.
Still avoiding eye contact with me at all costs.
My heart immediately sank.
My first instinct was to get out of there. I had overstayed my welcome, or he was freaking out, or something, but… All I knew was I needed to leave.
Before he had a chance to over think it any more.
I quickly packed up my things and changed. I shouted in the bathroom that I was leaving, and all he said was “OK”.
I was in my car before he was even out of his towel.
My head was starting to chime in again.
Telling my heart it had celebrated too soon.
But my heart kept saying he would come around. That I’d hear from him in a few hours.
As soon as whatever this was passed.
I got home and crawled into bed. Falling asleep again, and waking hours later. Sure that I would hear from him any minute.
Only, I didn’t.
He never called.
The next day passed, and I kept waiting for him to text. As I completed my work tasks throughout the day, I kept telling myself I would hear from him.
Only, I didn’t.
As I was leaving work, my head and my heart started battling again.
My heart telling me I shouldn’t be playing games. That if I wanted to talk to him, I should just reach out.
My head was telling me not to be an idiot though. Reminding me that it had only been a week since he was fighting so hard just to see me.
If he was blowing me off already, this was not a good sign of things to come.
But of course, my heart won out.
I sent him a text a little before 6 asking if he wanted to come over that night.
He responded almost immediately.
“I’m going to stay here tonight. I got really depressed yesterday and didn’t sleep at all last night.”
I wasn’t sure what to do with that. Was he asking for me to comfort him, or telling me to keep my distance?
“Yeah…” I started. “I noticed a shift yesterday morning. Wasn’t sure if I should stick around and try to get you to talk to me, or take off fast in case it was me you were annoyed with. If it’s any consolation – I had a pretty rough day yesterday too. Try to get some sleep tonight. I’m sorry you’re hurting…”
He never responded.
I thought for sure he would call me that night.
But he didn’t.
And I didn’t hear from him at all the next day either.
By Thursday, I was starting to fall apart.
Had I jinxed this by letting myself believe, even if only for a second, that it could work?
He had promised me.
Sworn this was what he wanted.
That he was ready.
That he wouldn’t hurt me again.
He'd begged for another chance.
A chance to prove to me he could do this.
He knew how scared I was.
How hard it had been for me to put any trust in him at all.
He knew.
He had promised.
Sworn, begged, and pleaded.
Saying everything I had needed to hear, and more.
He had promised.
And it had only lasted a week.
He was pushing me away again. Shutting me out. Putting walls up, and closing the door.
I was half tempted to call him. To tell him he wasn’t allowed to do this to me again. To vocalize my frustration and hold him accountable for his actions.
Hold him accountable for me.
But my pride wouldn’t let me do it.
My head was finally winning. Telling me that if he really cared, he would call.
If he was really worth all this heartache, he would try to make it right.
He would reach out, even if only just to tell me he needed time.
Only, he didn’t.
The next morning I got up and showered. Put on my makeup, and made a breakfast smoothie. Followed my routine to a ‘T’, without ever once faltering in my steps.
And then, as soon as I got a chance, I called AT&T.
I blocked his number from being able to call or text me again.
His cell, his home, and his office.
The only way I could really think of to say “goodbye”.
And to make it stick.
My head finally winning.
And my heart accepting defeat.
(to be continued…)
