Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Disarmed

I played it all out in my head on the way home – exactly what she would have to say to apologize. How she would fuck it all up. How my completely justified anger would put her on the defensive. The ensuing fight.

I thought about how I would nail her to the cross about defending her indefensible behavior. I practiced my righteous indignation. In the front seat of The Tracker, I mimed my haughty sign off.

We were destined to leave this day with a mutual hatred of each other.

Now all I had to do was wait...

And sure enough, the phone rang.

My heart began to beat. Rapidly. This was it.

The hurt came rushing back to me. As did the anticipation - the certainty. The knowledge that I'd been here a hundred times before and that a hundred times out of a hundred, the result had been the same.

This time would be no different.

This time would end just like all the others.

This time...

From the first moment, this time was somehow different...This time...dammit if she didn’t do everything right.

She apologized, and, try though I might, I couldn’t pick apart the sincerity in her voice.

She said she understood how she had let me down. She said she knew that she had inconvenienced me. She said she would very much like to see me – to make it up to me. She offered to make ammends in the way that she, herself, would desire ammends if the same situation had happened to her.

She said all of this without one word of prompting from me.

In fact, I didn’t have to say anything at all.

In about 5 minutes, she managed to disarm a bomb of deep, personal hurt that I’d been building since I mastered the dexterity.

With one phone call, she showed me that someone out there knew – instinctively – how to love me.

That it is possible. That I am not a human porcupine; or jarred lightening bug.

That I was and am a human being, worthy of respect and care. That my feelings mattered, and were justified, and not just in my own mind.

She called in one moment. She secured a friend for a lifetime.

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