When In Doubt… Run Away

I think I freaked some of you out yesterday when I mentioned that we’re only half-way there. Does it help if I remind you that we’re reliving the events of 8+ months of my life? I swear… the insanity will end eventually! In the meantime, if you need to catch up on this story I’ve been telling, take a peek at parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight first.

Man… that’s getting kind of embarrassing to keep typing out!

I woke up the next morning still numb.

Hurt, and angry, and confused, but…

Profoundly rational.

I got ready for work. Made my breakfast. Packed my lunch.

Never once crying or veering off course.

As I went to walk out the door, I grabbed my phone. But I kept it turned off. I can’t explain why I was so sure he had already called, but I was. And I knew he was going to continue calling until he got in touch with me.

I had no intention of turning my phone back on that day at all.

But I wanted it with me for some reason I can’t quite explain.

The events of the night before were whirling through my brain. My logical side kept reminding me that he was hurting. That he had just gotten divorced. That he had lashed out because I was there. Because I was close. Because I was someone he could lash out at. He had fought so hard not to let her know how much she had hurt him, that lashing out at someone else eventually had been inevitable. Not that I was making excuses for it, because trust me – I wasn’t. It was just that in my quest to have an explanation for his behavior, I knew this was the most logical option.

But the emotional side… that was a different story. The only thing that kept running through my head was “why?” Why would he ever say those things to me? Why would he keep repeating them? He doesn’t like me. He had been using me. He had just been lonely. He had needed a rebound. Those words had all come out of his mouth. Why would he say those things after all that had gone on between us in the previous two months?

Why would he say those things, if there wasn’t at least an iota of truth to them?

It’s not like I’ve never been dumped before. We all know I have been. But, there’s a way to do these things. A tactful way to preserve the dumpee’s feelings.

No one, whether it was true or not, would ever talk to someone who had been good and kind and there for them in the way he had talked to me.

So I had these two pictures of him floating around in my brain. The good man who really did love me and had meant every positive thing he had ever said to me up to this point, but who had lashed out at me and pushed me away only because he himself was hurting more deeply than I truly understood. Or the asshole, who had been lying to me and using me all along and had finally just said to me exactly what had always been on his mind.

I couldn’t figure out how to consolidate those two pictures. Neither one of them seemed to fit completely. I couldn’t wrap my head around how that first guy would ever have used the words he used, regardless of how much he was hurting. And I couldn’t figure out how that second guy could have pretended so well to care about me, if everything he said the night before was true.

Because if it was, he hadn’t just fooled me. He had fooled everyone who counted themselves as his friends.

All the people who had slowly but surely started to become my friends. The ones who had reassured me every step of the way how much he cared about me.

Had they been wrong too?

Or were they all in on the act?

I couldn’t figure it out. But I knew I hadn’t heard the last of him. And so, I just left my phone off.

Not particularly wanting to deal with either guy in that moment.

When I arrived at work, I had an e-mail from an old Friend. B-Face, my favorite nomad who had been there for me in Seattle during my second IVF cycle. She had just landed herself a gig on a private yacht that was going to be touring the coast of Alaska this summer. They would be pulling into Ketchikan that weekend. She wanted to know if I could hop a plane to meet her there.

I’d never been to South East Alaska. I had heard about how gorgeous it was, but had never taken the time to explore it myself.

My ticket was booked before I even e-mailed her back.

When in doubt… run away.

Although, technically, this wasn’t really running away. The boy would be out of town as well. I knew he was leaving that night for 3 weeks in remote Alaska. I knew that as of 4pm, he would be gone.

Out of sight, and out of mind.

But there was something about getting a change of scenery that appealed to me. Of getting out of dodge, and spending time with one of my nearest and dearest.

It sounded a whole lot better than sitting at home trying to figure out what it was exactly that had gone down the night before.

After booking my ticket, and shooting her an e-mail, I realized that I couldn’t wait to hear her voice. I was just too excited to go over the details of this trip. So on my lunch break, I turned my phone on fully intending to give her a call and then immediately turn it back off.

It wasn’t on more than 15 seconds before he called.

I immediately hit the bitch button, but I knew it was too late. It would have rung on his end. He would know I had declined the call, but he would also know the phone was on.

And just a few seconds later, I got a text from him. Asking me to please call him. I debated for about half an hour, angry at myself for turning the phone on at all. But finally, I texted him back. Stating simply that I didn’t want to talk to him. That I had been compassionate and there for him, and he had used me up and tossed me away. I told him that there were a million ways the situation the night before could have gone down, and that the way he had chosen to proceed instead had simply been cruel. I told him that I needed a breather. From him, and the whole mess.

OK, so maybe that wasn’t so simple. But this is me we’re talking about.

He responded right away.

“OK. I just wanted to apologize for how I handled the situation last night.”

I didn’t say anything back. So, he texted again.

“Thanks for treating me so well and being such a good person.”

Again, I didn’t reply. So again, he texted.

“The truth is, I am still totally in love with her, and until I can move past that I only need friends in my life.”

Now I was pissed. Was he really putting this on me? Really?

You know my response was about to be epic.

“I only ever tried to be your friend. That was my sole intention from the very beginning. You’re the one who pushed for it to be more. I told you more than once I was fine just being your friend. You’re the one who continued to say you wanted something more. You’re the one who sat on my couch just a few days in and as I told you I thought you should be out dating lots of girls and I should just be your friend – said that wasn’t what you wanted, and that you hadn’t expected to like anyone as much as you liked me, but that you did and now I was what you wanted. I gave you plenty of outs along the way and have said we could just be friends plenty of times. You’re the one who blurred those lines – because you were lonely, or lying to yourself, or lying to me, or whatever. But don’t put that on me, because it’s not fair. That was all you. It’s been all you all along.

The fact of the matter is, I’m not even mad about that. I don’t like it, but I get it. I’m mad about how you handled it though. About the fact that I’ve been there for you and been a friend to you and you turned around last night and said a bunch of hurtful things to me before just leaving. Like you and what you want/need/feel is all that matters. You broke me down and then you just left. I can honestly say that I don’t have too many friends who would make me feel like that and then just walk away.

And obviously this is why we probably shouldn’t be talking right now – because clearly I’m heated. And I hate feeling like this and putting myself on the line to look like an idiot. I hate letting people know they’ve hurt me.

Do what you need to do to take care of yourself. I’m going to do the same. I’ve tried to be there for you, and clearly that was my mistake. I should have known better. I did know better. I just… cared. About you. And my heart broke for what you were going through and I wanted to be there for you. But now I’m completely drained. And I just need some space.”

Told you it was epic.

The truth is, at this point I still didn’t for one second believe anything he had said the night before to me. But that didn’t really matter. He had said it. And then he had left. It didn’t matter if it was true or not.

He wrote back pretty quickly.

“I agree. I fucked up. What’s done is done. Thanks for everything, and for whatever its worth, I’m sorry.”

I hated him. “What’s done is done”? Who says that? After being a complete and total asshole to someone you’re supposed to care about, who says that?

I hated him.

And I turned my phone right back off.

Now I was fuming. Finally feeling something. Going through the rest of my day practically shaking.

I was suddenly just so angry.

I didn’t turn my phone back on until 5. His plane was supposed to have left at 4, and I knew his cell phone didn’t work where he was going. I figured at this point, it was safe for me to reconnect myself to the world.

And let's be honest – I had a lot of rehashing with friends I needed to do.

But the phone wasn’t back on for two minutes before he called.

I sat there, staring at his name. I didn’t do anything. Just stared trying to figure it out.

He was supposed to be on a plane.

Two seconds after it went to voicemail, he texted me asking that I please call him.

He should have left at 4. So how was he calling me now past 5? Had he stayed behind? Because of me? To fix things with me?

I am ashamed to admit, that was actually the thought that ran through my head.

I waited almost half an hour, battled with myself back and forth, but I finally decided that obviously texting wasn’t going to work. Maybe we should talk.

So, I called him.

He answered almost right away, but it was clear he was still in the airport. There were voices all around, and I could hear speaker announcements going off in the background. He asked me if I would give him a second to get to somewhere quieter.

I told him that of course I would.

It turned out his flight had been delayed. Engine problems. He wasn’t still in town because of me. He was still in town because he was waiting on a plane.

Strike one against me and my master deductive reasoning skills.

At first, neither of us said much of anything. But then finally, I broke the awkwardness.

“What was it you wanted to say?”

I was short, and frustrated, and I know that was evident. There was no kindness in my voice.

So he took on a similar tone. Started off by saying “I just really need you to know how sorry I am. How things happened last night, that wasn’t what I intended. At all. I was really hurting, and seeing her really screwed me up, but… it never should have gone down like that.”

It would have been fine if he had just stopped there, but he didn’t.

“You just need to know though” He continued. “That everything I said last night was true. I don’t have feelings for you beyond friendship. I’m never going to have feelings for you beyond friendship. I was lonely, and I needed a rebound, and you were there, but… I don’t like you in that way. You need to know that.”

Was he serious? Was he seriously repeating these same hurtful words to me again?

Like I hadn’t heard them the night before?

What the hell kind of fucked up apology was this?

I took a breath before responding, and then said “I get it. Is there anything else?”

You’re never going to believe this, but… he started saying it again.

A broken record about how much he didn’t have feelings for me.

Again, I was stunned into silence.

Finally, I cut him off. “I’m not going to argue with you. If that’s what you’re hoping for, I’m not going to sit here trying to convince you that you’re wrong. I’m not going to point out all the times you’ve said something totally contrary to what you’re saying now. I’m not going to remind you of every single time we’ve shared something beyond friendship. I’m not going to do this with you. If you don’t want to be with me, fine. But for the record – I don’t need to hear it anymore. So, are you done?”

He seemed shocked. There was part of me that really felt like he wanted me to fight him on this. Like he wanted me to fight for him.

And I wasn’t going to do it.

He started stammering. Apologizing again. I don’t even know what. The whole thing was just so ridiculous, and I couldn’t for the life of me figured out why he had called at all.

“Listen” I said. “Get on that plane. Go do whatever work you have to do. I’m going to Ketchikan this weekend to see a friend. I don’t want to hear from you again. Take care of yourself.”

I was done.

So frustrated, and angry, and yet so calm… I couldn’t believe it.

I don’t think he could either.

He stammered out a few more apologies, and then we got off the phone.

I wasn’t sure what was and wasn’t true, but more and more I was believing the things he was saying. It was one thing for him to have been saying them the night before, when he was obviously in the midst of breaking down. It was another thing entirely for him to be saying them again now.

I couldn’t figure out why he had needed to call me to say all the same things again, but he had.

He wouldn’t be doing that if it wasn’t true, would he?

I didn’t expect to hear from him again.

At all.

Ever.

There was this part of me that was still holding on to what I believed we had. This part that was telling me that he would eventually regret this. Miss me. Miss what could have been. This part that wanted to believe that at some point, he would reach out. Wanting another chance.

But the part that was listening to the things he was saying – that was growing larger and larger by the second.

And I really didn’t expect to hear from him again.

Except, he called that night. From the same remote phone he had used before when he had been out on this work site.

He left a message asking me to call him back.

I didn’t.

And then he called the next night.

And the next.

And the next.

Some nights, he called more than once. Leaving a message and then trying again 5-10 minutes later. Almost as if he hoped that after hearing his message, I would lose my resolve not to answer.

The final message he left Friday night was pretty desperate.

He sounded sober. But also like he was losing confidence in the fact that he would ever speak to me again. All he said was “Please. Just please call me back. I’m so sorry. Please.”

I couldn’t figure out why he was calling. Nothing he said on his messages really hinted at what he wanted. He just kept asking me to call him back. I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was that he missed me, or that he wanted to fix what he had broken. I had already made that mistake once.

I wasn’t going to make it again.

But I couldn’t figure out what it was he wanted.

I had written him an e-mail earlier in the week. This thing I do when I have something to say, but don’t know how to say it. I had written it, but I hadn’t sent it. Mrs. King and I had shared it back and forth. Editing and tweaking. Playing with it until I felt better about the words on the page. About the resolve they stood for.

After hearing his Friday night voicemail, I started working on that e-mail again.

For hours.

Almost up the point when it was time for me to leave for the airport.

And at 5 in the morning, I hit send.

Sharing the entire contents of that e-mail here would require a whole other post, but some of the highlights included:

“I need you to know that I’m not mad at you. I’m not even upset anymore. I can’t imagine how hard Monday was for you. I fooled myself into thinking you were OK because you seemed to be in such good spirits. You seemed to be taking it all so well. But that was stupid of me. I should have known better. And to an extent, I definitely blame myself for how things went down that night.

The end result was that you pushed me away though. You pushed hard. You drilled a fairly hurtful point home to me over and over again. Even in calling to apologize, you continued to repeat the same words. Almost like you were trying to hurt me. Or you thought maybe I’m dense and just wouldn’t get it.

Trust me – I got it.”

“The thing you have to understand is... I spent a decent part of my life being broken down and tossed away like I didn't matter at all by the people who were supposed to care about me. But I'm an adult now. And I have worked too hard to get past my issues and to be confident, and strong, and happy for me to let anyone make me feel like that again. And as much as I know you're in a bad place and probably just needed to lash out at someone, I also know that I've been there for you. That I've been a friend to you. And that I deserved better than that from you.

I think you know that too.”

“I did learn a long time ago that life is a hell of a lot easier if you force yourself to focus on what you do have instead of what you’ve lost. It took me plenty of missteps to get there, but maybe you’ll learn that lesson a lot quicker than I ever did. Because you really do have so much. You have two parents who love you, a beautiful home, a good job, and an amazing set of friends in your life who would do just about anything for you. You are intelligent, and attractive, and witty and fun to be around. What she did to you was cruel and incomprehensible, but you still have so much. So much more than so many people have.

I wish I could help you to see that. I wish I could be the friend you want me to be. But after everything that’s been said and done – I’m not even sure what that friendship would look like right now. And I’m pretty sure you aren’t either.”

I ended it by saying that maybe one day, we could be friends. After he had healed, and I had gotten over the carelessness with which he had treated me. Maybe he would call me up out of the blue, explaining that he was some guy I met on New Year’s Eve at some not so distant point in the past, and I would be the girl again pretending not to have any recollection of meeting him at all. And maybe then, we could just take it from there.

But that right now, the best thing for both of us was space.

I told him to take care of himself.

And then I signed it “Love”.

As soon as I hit send, I grabbed my bag.

Walked out the door, and put myself on a plane to Ketchikan.

(to be continued...)