“No one will be there, a shell
An empty shell will be at the gate
Of nowhere”
He wasn’t there. Really! He wasn’t there. That is what she thought anyway. Over and over again, that reality was waging war in her mind. She wanted him to be, that is the only thing she really wanted. Time plays tricks on a mind, a heart. This time it was no different. He looked the same, well, a little haggard and worn. He let his hair grow out. “Why do men always do that, do they really want everyone to know they are down, or is it some symbiotic way to just ask the world to stay away?” It didn’t matter, really, he was lost. She knew it.
Therapy has a strange way of disengaging a person at least initially. It is a process by which the trained professional encourages the patient to break all ties with those ties that bind, and begin to listen only to their voice, that is the voice of the therapist.
“Stop that stinkin’ thinkin’!” She heard the voice of a much wiser man. “Yes, stop thinking, just be, just be in the moment. There is not enough time for this therapizing!”
The day lingered on, it was hot, at least ninety degrees hot and humid. She recalled two mourning doves in the tree right outside the cabin-like home resting above the picnic table where so many moments had been shared in nicer, warmer days. Not the bake your brain and roast your flesh kind of days. No, that was too much like what she imagined hell must feel like.
She was wishing that she had not agreed to stay with him. What she wanted, needed, was her own space, but she was afraid to give it to him for fear of what the outcome would be. It wouldn’t be long and she would be on her way back to Chicago. Yes, Chicago, that is where she wanted to be, but knew the time was running out on that lease too. It should not have happened this way. No, this time she should have had it all play out as she imagined. That is what she was told. If she listened hard and long to the messages on Oprah, and Dr. Phil shows, she would be able to just will it. She realized the flaw in that one. That only works when you are the only one in the world, or, if you have enough money, ie, power that you have control over everyone’s outcomes beneath you.
It was always her first inclination to run. As if running somehow made everything just disappear. Yes, that is what it felt like. Like she was invisible, the unseen quasi-force, you know something is there, but because it is unseen to the human eye, or in this case the human heart, it just doesn’t exist.
“Hey, you stay here. I am going to run to the office, I have a few phone calls to make before it gets too late, (he was dancing). He is such a pain, the pressure that he is putting on me to make the sale.” He continued talking as he tried to avoid eye contact. "Hmmm, his voice was a little weak in the area of pain. " she thought to herself.
He had never been a good liar that is partly why she was always a little too suspicious. It was strange that a master poker player couldn’t lie.
“I don’t feel very comfortable staying here, alone.” Her voice broke, all of the anxiety of the morning was welling up inside of her.
“No, just hang out here and relax. I won’t be long, and then it is dinner at the pier.”
“Okay, but hurry, please.” she just wanted to run, and cry, "breath, breath..."
“I will, just feel free to listen to some music, read a little, I will be back real soon.”
A little time had passed and she remembered that she did not make a return reservation on the train. She left it open not knowing what to expect.
“Hi, I would like to make a reservation to leave on the Sunday night 6:35.” her voice broke.
“I am sorry m’am that train is full. The next one isn’t until Monday evening, or you could leave by bus and take the 343 which leaves at 3:15 on Monday afternoon.” Her heart sank. She was both excited and disappointed. The idea of staying yet another night brought her joy, and discomfort. Things were not going so well, and she was trapped. “Well, ...isn't there anything you can do, (silence) Okay, well then book me on the 343.”
Walking into the office she wanted to listen to “Take Five” a song she came to love dearly, a song that connected her to times gone by. Yes, that is what she wanted, to take five, to rewind, to breath. Reaching out to click on the media player, she looked to the right and saw it. A picture of her, the one he loved the most. He always claimed that he love the way she was smiling out from under the brim of her hat, slightly biting her lip. He claimed she did that often. She disagreed. She didn’t see it. A tear welled up in her eye.
