"I was really hurt by what you said," declared Her Dreaminess as I passed by her desk for the first time that day. Her verbal bullet missed by the thinnest of margins, but the fact she was taking a shot rattled me. If her tone hadn't sounded so political in nature, I might have believed she was speaking honestly.
The offending remark in question I assumed to be my parting statement to her yesterday during our daily conversations at work. All last evening I kept running it through my head, afraid I'd gone too far. If she cut me off I'd die worse than anyone alive. She knew that and deliberately cut me slack. But did I go too far??
She was telling me of her "objectivity" which I thought was amusing but revealing. A truly objective person tells you she's biased. Regardless, she was opening up to me and I treasured that more than the crown jewels. And she went on to state she had problems with selfishness - like I didn't know that (and share that trait) - but I so dearly loved her speaking with her eyes down, trusting me not to judge her.
But she'd prefaced her remarks by taking a shot at me, saying objectivity was something I wouldn't know anything about. So I decided to return the volley and give her a taste of true objectivity and see how the hell she liked that.
"Well, look at it this way," I said in my most innocent voice, "If you weren't selfish you wouldn't be married!" - implying theirs was a love of selfishness and not a love of love.
Her eyes flashed me an expected anger, hoping I would wilt. But I knew I was someone who'd die for her and I felt no remorse. Instead, I smiled a seemingly knowing smile - even if I didn't know if I spoke more out of hope and self-interest than I did of her reality.
But with her need to lay down the gauntlet just now I had my answer.
Our chemistry had grown with every word, every lowering of the guard, every secret fluttering of the heart. Dare we believe each need never lie to the other? Did we have the strength to grab on to that freedom and truly live at last? Here was a bump on that road.
I feared both her and her wrath - when genuine. I played stupid, backpedaling instead of facing her directly. Problem was, I really didn't want to hurt her but if my observation had been correct, it was a shot straight through her heart.
"What did I ever say?" posed baffled me, pretending I hadn't noticed I'd ever spoken any sort of possible painful truth to her. I knew she wouldn't go for the innocent act and I was kinda hoping she would call me out on that because truth be told I wanted to have this conversation. I wanted her.
"You know what you said."
You know what you said? She's talking to me like we're in a relationship. Dear God, I wish we were! I'd never curse God again the rest of my life. If only... So is she saying that because she wishes we were in a relationship too? Is she wanting to see if I respond in kind and pick it up from there? I dare not do that! I can't take that sort of chance with a married woman. That and I'm a fucking coward who's more interested in protecting his belief system than taking what he wants. Otherwise, there'd be no doubt what I'd do.
"I say lots of things. Maybe you're referring to something I said last week?" I deferred, despising myself, riddled with guilt.
"You had no right to speak about my marriage like that."
She got it out and I could see she was relieved to have made her statement of fact. Clearly, she and her husband had discussed it and decided to put me in my place (which I thought was endlessly funny). The words were spoken as if a language agreed to in a political speech, staged for effect rather than felt. But she was speaking to me now and her facade was all too easy to see.
"What do I know? I'm not married, so who cares what I think?"
She gasped because I had stolen her next lines. Was she going to come clean and admit her feelings now? I knew what she was trying to infer: We have a treaty of vulnerability and I'm accusing you of breaking it. And it was true, we did have such a treaty, passions were boiling over and phrases such as "Anyone but you and I wouldn't say this" and open declarations of admiration were bandied about. Damn, I want to be with you, girl! You're all my dreams!
"I don't care," she lied in knee-jerk reaction. "Nobody does." She had to cover for her husband/god as well. "Maybe if you had someone of you're own you wouldn't be so interested in other people's affairs." That was the end of her script, I knew. A very clever comeback if she hadn't wanted me to be interested in her affairs.
But she had left me an invitation. Yes, I wanted to say: "I don't care about having someone of my own if it's not you." But would she commit back to me, risking her most prized possession? I decided to be "logical" and told myself she's too weak to choose her feelings over her pride. I decided to be "sensible" and not give her an opportunity to jump down my throat and deliciously propagate her moral commitment to her holy marriage. I decided to fuck up and lie.
"Then you've got it all worked out," I feinted. "You already confided you're leaving in a few weeks and after that we'll never see each other again. I'm just a co-worker, right? It's not like you have to live with anything I say." Translation: We've bonded and you're leaving and I want to keep it going but how can I when you're already tied down?
I saw her crumbling, realizing she had no answer for that either. She was conflicted and I winced at her dismay at having to remain in her prison of silence. We both hated that prison. And since I couldn't man up to offer to take care of her, she was left with no choice but to defend what she had.
"Thank God," she said, turning her head away from me as we both wished the conversation had never taken place.
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