Tomorrow

Tomorrow - Chp. 10

2009, May 10th

                        I know mother had gotten used to me being out. For the past two months I had been spending most of my time at Annie’s flat, often going there right after work but always coming home after. If she ever questioned that part of it, then it was a conversation she had with herself. Tonight was no different, though lately the misgivings I had about this relationship was becoming too large to ignore.

            It was easy to be with Annie. She took so little for herself and spent most of her time trying to please me. I supposed I was difficult, but coming to terms with my guilt and the simple joy I felt at starting over never truly worked in harmony. There wasn’t a day that went by when I didn’t hear that damn crying in my head, of seeing Margaret’s tear stained face haunting me. Whether I closed my eyes or kept them open I saw her and I would invariably stop and hesitate and feel like a criminal.

            Should someone ask me, I would tell him or her I think she was trying to drive me insane though it would take tremendous explanation as the woman was in London and I hadn’t seen her since she left eight months ago. Yet, how else could I explain the constant feeling of being hounded, of experiencing the waking nightmare she trapped me in where any minute of enjoyment not spent with her would make me feel pain.

            That was one aspect in all this that I had no answers for. I hurt, real physical pain, sometimes in the form of headaches but often it was as if some invisible being followed me around and sliced away at my body, my insides. No one believed I felt this. But if I didn’t than why did it hurt, why would I cry out in anguish? The attacks weren’t random. I knew exactly when they would come. It didn’t take long to figure out that Annie was the catalyst.

            Though I don’t regret sleeping with her, our moments together never reached that level of bliss true lovemaking can give. Annie and I had sex. I never made love to her. There was guilt on my part as she was quite emphatically, in love with me. But I couldn’t make myself respond, to return the affection. After two months together, I thought I would be happier, but I’m not.

            The idea of breaking things off did cross my mind, but if I did then what? Would I try again with another, and then another only to have Margaret’s presence haunt me with each succeeding one?

            If only I could remember. That was the crux that kept me prisoner; that held me back and prevented me from going forward. The one clear memory I had was recalling the day we met. But reliving it was similar to watching an old video or looking at faded pictures. Everything looked familiar and I knew it happened, but no emotion was attached, diminishing its importance and leaving me to question why. Why couldn’t I feel what happened? Why wasn’t I remembering more?

            Going to Annie’s tonight, I would anticipate a good evening and ironically endure a troubled outcome. I can only block out the crying, the guilt for so long before they win and I am attacked from the inside out. Like a broken record that plays the same tune, it ends the same every time, every damn time.

            Standing just a moment at the foyer table, I reached for my keys only to hear mother’s voice calling and stopping me before I could make my exit.

            “John?”

            “Mother, I’m running late for dinner at Annie’s.”

            There was no surprise on her face. She knew where my destination was, not that I made any secret of it these past weeks.

            “I won’t keep you, but you need to take that and put it away or it’ll break.”