Rules meant to protect can just as easily entrap when we forget to infuse them with the living breathing now. I'm bald about my sorrow, however embarassing or undignified it may seem. I'd avoided the question of expectations simply as the limits of the situation would contain it. That I was brave after he'd reassured me he wanted this is simply who I am. That he was afraid after he'd finally convinced me not to be was where Mr. X was.
There's no one to blame or fault. Love comes and you greet it with a warm welcome. Never turn it away like an unwanted guest, even if you have to be careful around it. Soon enough, we all find whether or not it can live in the humble home we offer. In the doors of our hearts cracked ajar or thrown happily open. In this case, it couldn't - at least not for Mr. X.
And they would conjencture about it, glad that they themselves had escaped whatever misfortune had befallen me, glad for feeling kindness towards a stranger and relief for their welcome happiness. For it would now stand in sharp contrast to the image I'd left them with. It would be harder for me to deny my tears, someone had seen it, and even more poignantly, someone who meant well. I couldn't discount it as an obscure emotional moment that occurred away from prying eyes. Now, it really did exist.
With unfailing intuition, Carmen San Diego calls me. The story spills out of me between hateful sobs. I apologize for being mush, but Carmen quietly tells me not to worry, "you're one of the most dignified people I know, Angel. You always do things, even this goodbye, with such dignity. Such honor." Honor? Yes. I felt the biting threat of bitterness nip at my heart which at that moment, felt tossed in a vat of acid. Honor wouldn't really help me right now, but I'm glad someone noticed. It meant something coming from Carmen San Diego, who is decidedly fair yet unadorned about her opinions.
Carmen San Diego is expectedly concerned, "You really want to do that? I thought you told him you weren't seeing him anymore." I hadn't, because something stopped me. B had been asking me where I was but seemed happy enough to accept that I was simply not in the mood. "It's Area 51, it's about time I used the inspecificity of the entire clause to my benefit, I think. I am NOT going to be alone tonight," I inform Carmen San Diego with chilling calm. "Well, I'm saying that if B is free." Then more softly, "Look, Carmen, don't worry. I know what I'm doing, I need this so I'm going to get it. I don't belong to anyone remember? I'm free."
Carmen San Diego isn't so sure but is supportive anyway. Even through her misgivings, she lets me be, deciding to trust my instincts. Was I confused? Not at all. It was ironic that how I felt about B only became clearer. I cared for B, I loved him for who he is, but we had our spaces and our comforts, our somewhat untrammeled arrangement. B had left so much unasked that I'd remained unclaimed. It was that which made losing Mr. X painful. He had seen me, and that seeing had become it's own kind of possession. As I'm sure my seeing him had done for him.
I didn't want to hate the road, I wanted to embrace it. My road, my run. As all our roads are individual to each of us. The road, I surmised to both of my council, will do what it will with me. I only wanted at that point to be able to go through it; to stay soft enough to still appreciate the wind after it was done whipping at me, and to still see ever so sharply, how everything else remained beautiful around me.
Every shitty bit of road will too pass. Right? Right.