“I had this really good conversation with my dad. He’s
not much of a talker. It’s hard for him to express his feelings. I
guess we have that in common. It’s also hard for me. He has
an excuse though. He came from a time when that wasn’t
acceptable. Men were men and they went to work, they
worked hard, they supported their families. If they felt
something about that, they shut up and got on with it and
didn’t say a word to anyone. When he does talk, I really listen.
I’m not very good at feelings either. I know that it might look
like I don’t have a lot of emotion, and I’ve always excused that
as being too rational. I’m a scientist. I rely on that. Maybe that
comes across as me not being into it. Or not feeling it. Or
being cold. I’m sorry if you thought that.”
“No!” I never thought that. Not from the first. My
doubts are strictly about me. I’m horrified that Steph would
think that.
“Sometimes I just can’t answer right away because I
need to think about things. Really process them.”
“No. It seriously wasn’t you.” I realize how token that
sounds and I dislike myself for saying it. Why can’t I say
anything that is worth something? Why am I doing all the
things I detest seeing?
Steph turns her face away, to the park. There’s nothing
to see there. It’s still empty. I guess she’s waiting for me. I
really thought she wanted closure by asking me if I could meet
her here today. It doesn’t sound like it anymore, and that
makes my whole body stiff and my insides a tied up mess, but
I have to try. I have to try to get her to understand. It
physically hurts to think that she’s putting this on herself.
“I guess that I…have a past.” Way to sound even