Friday, November 16, 2012

We just sat there

In my mind, I was standing and he was far though we still sat there. I tried to feel guilty. I couldn't feel guilty. Then I felt guilty for not feeling guilty. It was the kind that would give no closure. So I suppressed it and we just sat there. I tried to make conversation but there was nothing. I hated everything about this yet I didn't feel awkward. I only wanted it to end. And I was ready to saw all that was necessary for it to be so. Was I finding some purpose in this? Even joy? No. I can't think of this now. I will think of this later. It will be better to do this alone. Him. I will do him now. What am I doing with him now? This is turning into an exercise. But I cannot leave yet. Later. I have to reenter this room again. I want to remember this. I'm looking for closure… with me, not him. I won't rush this because I want to remember this truth about me… this re-found truth. I will tell him why we can be no more not because he needs to hear it, that doesn't matter. But because I need to hear my voice say it. My mind has said it a thousand times. This is the stretch: to say it without dejection. Not bitter or cold… just blunt. This is what he’s here for. He’s here to take it. But the coffee’s arrived. I forgot that we’d ordered it. This has to wait now. So we just sat there. Now I was reassured of what my purpose was so I couldn't let him see it coming. So I entertained his chatter. We spoke about Breaking Bad and the Brothers Karamazov. I told him I plan to watch the Three Colors. He said it was too sad. Oh my god! He really has no idea. How am I not incensed by this negligence? Because it reassures me. Because I am here to hear myself, not him. So we just sat there. He wanted to smoke. I didn't care, though my nostrils did. I ignored them. This was beyond my senses. I ordered a latte. I almost pour the sweetener but remember I now prefer brown sugar. He orders an espresso and fills it with white sugar. My coffee was good. His was fast. Why is he in a hurry? He doesn’t seem stressed. He is eager… I think. He looks at me and I look at him intently for the first time since we’ve sat down. I feel like a hunter of a blind game that is both deaf and immobile. I am obliged but not entitled to take this kill. I am obliged because he won’t stop sitting here. So I gave it to him sitting. I was monotonous stern. I was final. It was the most matter-of-factly thing I ever said and it shocked him. My capacity to be this cold both impressed and terrified me. His mouth was still open by the time I paid the bill. I got up and left and he just sat there.


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