Tara
And when he called midmorning, I answered on the first ring. But I was deep into the book. Into darkness. A darkness that I had taken on as my own. Or maybe the story was coming from my own.
I wasn’t sure anymore.
I felt exposed. Afraid Tim would tell someone something I’d told him. My business was my own. It had always been my own. There was safety in that.
I was short with Tim. And then texted him to apologize. I was a nervous wreck. The host of a battle that was raging inside of myself. Just like I’d been in 1977. I couldn’t do this again.
I wasn’t going to get any closer to Tim.
I’d made up my mind. Was resolute. Calm.
Right up until Tim’s e-mail came in late that afternoon.
Good evening, Sunshine:
Let’s get some things straight. First of all, I told you that I’m your safe place and that means whatever you send or tell me is completely between us.
So, calm yourself down and take a deep breath, concentrate on your work at hand, and rest assured that I will be near. Okay?
P.S. Also, my favorite snack is chocolate milk and peanut butter and I’m enjoying that right now.
Tim
The last line made me smile.
And that was my Tim—making me feel good even when I felt horrible.
On Saturday, I had us all figured out. Tim and I were going to be long-distance best friends. There for each other, but with our own separate lives. Something about the idea bothered me. But it fit. My mother was in Arizona and the Southwest was my home. I suffered from seasonal depression and couldn’t tolerate the cold. I communed with mountains and blue skies and sunshine. Tim’s career, the home he owned, was in Ohio.
And even if we were in the same state, I couldn’t give him the physical relationship he was bound to want.
Feeling like I’d reached a truce between the two sides battling inside me, I opened my e-mail program to get the message I was sure Tim would have waiting for me. He’d attached another song.
Tara,
The song that I wanted you to wake up to. Enjoy it, Sunshine.
Tim
It was Neil Diamond’s “Hello, Again.”
Tim called me while I had the tune playing for the fourth time. I’d told him I was going to be in my office working all weekend.
I muted the computer as I grabbed my phone.
“Hi!” I grabbed the chain around my neck, playing with it, wishing he could see the jeans and short-sleeve shirt I was wearing. I wanted him to know I was still cute. Still worth his time.
And then I stopped myself. I had no right wanting Tim to be physically attracted to me. I was completely frigid.
“What’s up?”
“Just getting ready to start work.”
“Did you work out this morning?”
“Yeah. I don’t usually on Saturdays but I missed a couple of days earlier this week and I needed the stress relief.” I’d told him about the full gym up at the clubhouse in the private community where I lived. I’d lose membership there as soon as the divorce was final.