S A R A

Ch 37

37

That day passed slowly and swiftly at the same time.

The next morning, though, I felt myself growing silent and as if I was carrying a heavy stone in my chest. It was a feeling of not knowing how long it would be this time before I'd see him again. It made me sad, because having that kind of happiness meaning that it wouldn't take a lot, or too long, to lose it.

I couldn't even speak. And when he was driving me back, its as if each second that passed was as loud as each heartbeat in my chest. So when he pulled up to my driveway, I was ready for a goodbye but he seemed even more unsure of what to do. He looked at my eyes, to my lips, to my eyes and quickly kissed me - no, pecked me - and then he just opened the car door across me. I paused, and then quickly got out of the car.

I was going through a rush of thoughts, like I see how it is, but as I was walking up to my door, he got out of the car and yelled my name. I turned around, and smiled, as he went towards me.

"You forgot your bags," he smiled, so I smiled again.

Was it possible that he got nervous too? Not in my mind, but I was so glad he called out my name.

We went back to the car, and he got my bags out of the trunk. Then he hugged me, and said he'll see me.

Then just like that, he was gone. And I was once again, alone on my driveway, holding my bags. He, was out on the road, holding my heart.

I wanted to feel comfortable in our relationship, but I only felt more confused the closer I got it seemed.

Now, it seemed that all I was doing, was involuntarily thinking of ways to see him. Making up excuses in my mind when I knew that all I needed was patience. But I felt so short on time and so hungry for life and so scared of seeming to needy even if that is what I felt. A need to be close to him.

God forbid I would think of him before I went to sleep. At night my mind would wander, if to him, to our nights together and my mind would be on fire and there would be no hope for sleep except for a jagged few hours before dawn.

In the days following that trip, I could not help but think of a conversation we had at the winery.

When he told me he doesn't only make music shows, he goes to them too. How he loves it, and it reminds him of why he ever started in the first place. How even without the drugs, it was great. Sometimes better than sex.

"Not with me, though," I said, fake gasping.

"No, not you," he chuckled, " I mean like physically and mentally, what you get there - where together we dance as one - its better than a, random hookup, say."

I blushed, thinking how we started out as a random hookup. It made me feel insecure about the whole ordeal.

The drugs. My lack of foresight and naïveté amazed me. Looking back, it probably made sense. But in the moment, there was no way for me to figure that out, alone.

So what, he did drugs, big deal. Except that it was. Because upon that realization, I became afraid that I might never mean as much to him as a pill.

How is it, that not only was I in love with an already untouchable being, this made it all the more surreal. I don't think that he's addicted, but I think he has habits. All I ever wanted was to become a habit for him, because my own obsession for him - this out of control thing I wish I knew how to contain - took over my mind every day and night. And I wondered what it would take for this to stop, or if it ever would.

I learned not to disturb him when he was on one of his benders. Its not that he didn't want me, its just that he couldn't. It felt like, even though all the other girls were out of the picture and I could trust him on that, this was the other woman. When would I ever be the one that isn't what felt like a permanent second choice? When would I want something that wants me back just as much, and when would something want me that I want too?

It seemed like this double coincidence of wants - even in the delicate balance of being found - is always brought off kilter by some other frictions.

All of these things, and trying to deal with my feelings, was making me feel crazy.

That weekend, I messaged him if he has it off. He responded at 4 am the next morning, saying he was going out of town. I knew for what. For a bender.

I didn't want to blame or judge or criticize him, I was already doing enough of that on myself, I only wanted to know when to let go. Whether to keep holding on. Of course I'd keep holding on.

I was shy to message him, but I was invited to a party from one common friend, where I thought that he would come up to.

But when I did, he said he was still out of town, the town that I would be coming in to. The town I said I would come int for my friends. Though I felt we both knew what it was for. When I told him that, and then asked him how his current town was, he responded telling me that real friends come through, fully ignoring my question.

What was going on?