I will keep u in the loop on Atlanta . . . I’m waiting on an answer from my contact there . . .
Tim
I read the note Tuesday afternoon and felt like a whore all over again. Here I was considering a flight to Atlanta to see the man of my dreams, considering trusting him with my deepest dark secret, considering giving the stage in my life to Tara for the first time in twenty-seven years, and Tim was waiting on an answer from a contact? Like I was some broad that he’d get his jollies with if we happened to meet up?
And if not, then, no loss?
But he’d sent me that song. He’d been telling me for two weeks that he wanted my all. That I had his deepest heart.
He hadn’t sounded the least bit excited about Atlanta.
I fretted for too long. And then did what I had to do.
Tim had just gotten home from work Tuesday, was in from the frigid temperatures for the night, when her e-mail came through.
Tim,
I’m really afraid you’re building me into something I’m not. I just keep getting the impression that you’re building this fantasy and I’m not going to possibly be able to live up to it and then reality will set in and I’m going to fall harder than I’ve ever fallen before. I’m forty-seven years old. With a body that’s lived forty-seven not-easy years. I take care of it, but I can’t help the aging process. These days I’m pretty sure I look better with my clothes on than off. And I can’t make the secret between us just disappear. I have no guarantee that it ever will. I can promise to never quit trying, but I can’t promise that I ever will get by it.
And what happens when the newness wears off and it’s real life and ordinary?
You sent me that song, saying that you listen to it all the time and that’s how you feel and it’s about being in someone’s arms. You don’t know yet how that’s going to feel, so how can you feel that about me? You think it’s going to be heaven, and what if it isn’t?
I look really really bad sometimes. I get irritable and tense. And wrinkles are just around the corner. Nothing magic about any of that.
Take a break from me. You deserve it!
Tara
The first time he read the letter he panicked. She was doing it again. Asking for her ring back.
Atlanta had frightened her off, just like he’d thought it might.
He went out to the kitchen. Had a spoonful of peanut butter. Two sips from the open can of soda in the refrigerator.
And went back to read the note again.
She was running scared. Afraid of all the practical realities keeping them apart?
Maybe she’d never wanted anything more than a pen pal.
The things he didn’t understand were looming larger and larger between them. He had to know what had happened to her. What had changed her so drastically from the girl he’d known at Wright State to the woman he’d seen in the summer of 1980?
Did she have a child out there, one she’d had with James outside of marriage that last year of college? Had she lost custody of the child? Had James had an affair? Giving her trust issues?
Whatever it was had been bad enough that she never mentioned the guy to anyone. That was pretty damned bad.
Alone in his house, wondering what to do about dinner, Tim didn’t want to think about secrets between him and Tara. Whatever it was, they’d get by it. They had to.
Whatever it was, he’d just accept it. Deal with it. Better that than lose her. Everything was under control.
Except her fear. She needed honesty. Bone-deep honesty. The most painful kind.
He’d promised to give it to her.
Tara,
Trust me, you’re safe. You are not just a fantasy, you’re a wonderful woman. I want to treat you with respect and ease into this. I know the past is very difficult. Let’s work through it together.