Paper Chase (part 3)

We continued to talk for a few weeks, as we had done for years. Michael was the first person I talked to in the morning, and the last person I spoke to at night. We had always talked openly about any subject, but with my heart worn and hurting, I could no longer listen, I had no ears left anymore. Michael reassured me this would work out for the best, he just needed time. We didn’t live together, we didn’t share expenses or property or anything of physical value, except time, so time away meant the only thing he and I shared was gone. I knew Michael was hurting, too, but the truth was I was unable to take that part in. I had too much of my own stuff to even consider taking his feelings on, too. One night while on the phone he was saying how much he “cared” about me, how he was trying to figure things out for himself and I swear to you, I snapped. I grabbed my kids, who had taken off their shoes and socks, thinking they were in for the night and got them in my car. All the phone calls, all the talking had gotten to me, and I needed to know where I actually stood in my relationship with Michael. I had thought he loved me. It’s what I had thought and acted on, but as I put my barefooted, very confused kids in the car for the short trip to Michael’s house, I no longer knew and I wanted an answer to my very simple question. Michael and I only lived a few minutes away from each other. I had made the trip to his house a million times, but this time as I drove, I felt a gnawing in my stomach. I was not then nor am I now a confrontational person. I hate confrontation of any kind. It makes my stomach twist up into knots and if there is any way to prevent it, even avoidance, I always try and go that route first, but I had shifted into a gear I was not only uncomfortable with , but one I would be in for some time after I got to Michael’s house. I was taking the bull by the horns and getting rid of any ambiguity. My relationships until then had tons of wishy/washy, give and take, ambiguity to them. I had allowed myself to be in situations where I would not take any stand, even when I was knocked off my feet, but this time I had to know.
I knocked on the door of Michael’s house, nervous, but determined. While the kids waited in the car, I saw the door open and Michael who I had not seen in person since the kitchen incident stood in front of me. “Tell me you don’t love me,” I said hoarsely. “What?” Michael asked stunned to see me. “You need to tell me you do not love me. Just say it so I can get on with my life and I am not sitting here waiting for you. Say it!” I was keenly aware that I needed to keep my voice down so my kids would be unaware of what I was doing, but I demanded an answer. “Kel, I…”Michael looked tortured, looking at the ground as if he were a punished child. “Say it, just say it!” I began to get louder. “Come in, just for a minute,” Michael tried to quell my growing anger. “I can’t, I have kids, remember? Just say it already, say you don’t love me.”
I saw tears in Michael’s eyes as he looked up and whispered, “I don’t love you.” His eyes never wavered from mine, as he looked straight at me, not flinching, not moving, I saw what I had come for and that it was time for me to go. I turned on my heel and left, getting back in my car and drove back home. I got the kids ready for bed as they asked me a million questions about what had just happened. I answered as truthfully as I could, trying desperately not to take them down the path I was on. “Michael won’t be around for awhile. He is busy and I was just saying good-bye. It’s O.K., he’s still our friend, but he just won’t be coming over anymore.” “Not even to babysit while you go to school?” one of my little ones asked. “No, not even for that. We’ll find someone else to do that. It’s going to be alright. Mommy is just going to miss him, but we will be fine.” I tucked everybody into bed, went to the bathroom to wash my face and promptly threw up. I rested my head on the porcelain and prayed. Actually, it was more like begging, “Please, let this be enough already. Please, God not one more thing for now. I am not strong; I am not able to handle this. Please not one more awful thing…” After sitting there for a few hours, I got up washed my face and went to bed. I knew in that instant it was time for me to wave the white flag on men, and just give up. It had crystallized for me that my judgment was not only impaired when it came to relationships, but non-existent. God and I were finally on the same page, we both felt I had had enough. I no longer required getting beaten over the head with the obvious because of the blinders I had chosen to wear. Feeling very sad, but somewhat resolved that I would be alone, possibly indefinitely, I drifted off to sleep. I pictured myself living in my little house, stepping over piles of junk mail that would be stacked from floor to ceiling, surrounded by a thousand cats, while I could be seen wearing a very large flowered hat doing my very best impression of Miss Havisham.