Chapter Sixteen; Dazed and Confused

In like a lion, out like a lamb.

And I’m not talking about the month of March.

The beginning of a relationship typically possesses untamed forward momentum propelled by the exciting possibilities of infinite what if’s.

Ironically, the endings of relationships are often fueled by the resulting anxiety of those same what if’s.

What if I stay in this forever?

What if it’s amazing?

What if?

It’s not.

What if holds both the power to ignite potential.

And extinguish it.

And so, when Nick’s text messages taper from gushing flood to dripping trickle.

I tell myself he’s just busy.

When I don’t have my children for an entire evening and he leaves hours before he should because he needs to go home and get things done.

I tell myself he’s just being responsible.

And although Nick’s whirlwind arrival was illogical, the senselessness of it all was so fun that I simply didn’t care. Now, I’m confused by the mysterious ambiguity. And strongly dislike how it is turning me from independent confident woman into insecure needy girl.

I don’t like it.

Not at all.

As the week wears on his communication seems more obligatory than spontaneous and genuine. He dutifully checks in. But that’s it. I feel like I’m on some girlfriend “to do” list, with “call Audra” falling somewhere between “dust living room” and “buy more Splenda.”

But all I do is continue to ignore the massive elephant now taking up residence in the middle of my mind, skillfully evading the monstrosity even though it’s growing so large that if I don’t acknowledge it soon it is going to take over my skull.

Denial thy name is Dumbo.

You see, if there’s anything I know something about. It is about endings. After all. I’m divorced. I’m 37. And I’ve been single for going on three years.

If I’m an expert on anything. I am an expert on leaving.

On how it feels to be the one to leave.

And how it feels to be the one left behind.

If you are the one contemplating leaving, you take hesitant measured steps toward the door as you try to secretly figure out if you really want to walk out said door.

When you are the one being left, you don’t want the person you love getting anywhere near that door. You make up excuses about why he or she is moving in the direction of the door. You tell yourself you are imagining things. You tell yourself you are even imagining that there is a door.

Endings start as silent secrets that no one wants to acknowledge.

After a week of this crap I finally cave. And call Nick on the proverbial “what the hell is going on” carpet when he calls me from the station to say goodnight.

“Hey, just wanted to check in before I hit the hay,” he methodically and dutifully says. I feel like patting him on the head and scratching him behind the ears like an obedient puppy while cheerfully exclaiming, “Good boy! That’s a good boy! You call your girlfriend just as you should, do you wanna treat? Does my good boy want a treat?”

I know.

I sound like a bitch but the truth is his lack of sincerity is absolutely killing me.

He’s working tonight but that doesn’t usually infringe on our ability to chat. Except for lately. “I can’t talk long,” he says, “I want to get to bed early. Looks like a lightning storm tonight so the alarms will be going crazy so I’m going to bed.”

He is ridiculously brief. I’ve had longer conversations with someone who’s dialed the wrong number.

“Wait a second,” I punctuate, sabotaging his escape plan, “I have a question.”

He sighs.

He knows what’s coming.

I take a deep breath. And murmur the question that I really don't want to know the answer to,“Why did I talk to you more when you were in Colorado than I do now?”

He sighs again.

And for the next twenty minutes, I finally hear the truth. The momentum and intensity that Nick established, the very train that he bought the tickets for and asked me to board when he stretched out his hand, grinned at me with that smile that lights up his whole face, and pulled me onto this journey with its infinite promises of joyful possibilities, is making an unscheduled stop.

At the station.

Of uncertainty.