It Happened on Maple Street

“Tim, I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“What went wrong with you and Denise?”

“I loved Denise, but with a love that could never fully come out. Partly due to the fact the she was so emotionally tuned in to herself and herself only. She never really seemed to get that even though I was a guy, I had feelings, too. I could tell her what I wanted, emotionally, and she would give me what she wanted me to have. Which I think led to a lot of resentment on both parts. At the same time, I wasn’t giving her the one thing I guess she needed more than anything else.”

“Marriage?”

“Right. To me, the love, the relationship, the closeness was what mattered. Apparently not to her.”

“But you just said your love never fully came out, so even if the closeness was what mattered to her, she didn’t really have it.”

“Maybe. Anyway, when I was away from her I’d miss her, but when I got home, there was no sharing of mutual feeling between us. She always seemed to be more of a spectator than a participant, no matter what we were doing. Like she was biding her time, waiting for something before we started to really live life. So I guess that’s how love turns to hate. Hate for the fact that the person you’re trying so hard to love won’t, or can’t, acknowledge your feelings.”

“I’m guessing you could be describing her, too, huh? Since what she needed was for you to love her enough to commit to a lifetime with her.” I felt sorry for this woman I’d never met.

“Yeah. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” That’s what we were about, right? Tim and I could tell each other anything.

“If Chris were to ask you to come back to him, would you?”

“No.” I tried not to notice the clock, the knots in my stomach over the pages waiting to be written. I could not let my life mess up my career. It was the one thing I’d done completely right. TTQ was my success story.

She was also my sole means of support.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?”

I could have said I could because Chris had had a call g

irl in our home. Or that he’d walked me up to a wall and I was afraid that next time he might break more than a china angel. I told him the reason that far surpassed either of those.

“Because of you.”

If I’d learned nothing else in my twenty-seven years of adult living, I’d learned this. I was in love with Tim Barney. Period. He’d been my one and only.

I wasn’t going to be with Tim. I knew that. I wasn’t ever going to be more than a long-distance and, I hoped, close friend.

And yet, in some strange way, I belonged to him. And knowing that, how could I possibly belong to anyone else?

Someone from Tim’s work beeped in and he had to go—he was on call that weekend. The timing was unfortunate.

And I didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day. I managed to distract myself with work until evening, but when I got to my friend’s house, I found her and her kids out for the evening. I was still working from my laptop, but I couldn’t seem to stop my head from playing with me.

I’d been too forward. Said too much. I had too many issues. Was too uptight. And standoffish. I wasn’t eighteen anymore. I’d made horrible choices in my life that had led to horrible things.

I texted him. Several times.

You don’t have to do this.

And a little while later.

It’s not too late to stop.