“You’ve cast me aside,” is what AC says tonight when he calls. It’s not true, but I think it ought to be.
When I met AC, I had a romance novel moment, a kind I thought didn’t happen in the actual world. I was walking down the street, turned and saw him and felt my equilibrium shift. He was sitting with a group of his friends, but I didn’t see any of them. It was as if my eyes had a depth of field problem and could only focus on one point and everything else was blurred. Sappy. Maudlin. But there it is.
And I thought that must mean something. And I suppose it did mean something, but I got the interpretation wrong. I should have gone with, “There’s a man to flirt with and walk away from.”
But the thing about AC is that for all the ways he is intentionally and unconsciously dense, for all the ways he has shown me that he is so very much not a man with whom I should be making any long-term plans, he is connected to me on a level that both distresses me and keeps me from being able to close the door between us. When I am sad or frustrated or feeling hopeless, the phone rings and there he is. When I am thinking about another man, the phone rings and there he is. when I’m feeling homesick for Jamaica, the phone rings and there he is. When I’m thinking, ‘Well, AC hasn’t called in ____ weeks, I guess he’s finally given up on me,” the phone rings and there he is. This freakish psychic connection has been true from the very beginning of our knowing each other. It charmed me then. Unsettles me now.