Then I would have tell you something different. That I had gone on a conscious date (while you were waiting for me).
Anita Manderfield (below)
Date: Fri, 10 Nov 2017 07:52:52 -0500 (EST) From: [Anita Manderfield] To: [me]
That night. I don’t know if you really want to hear about that night. Don’t know if you really did last night or before that, nor if you do now, on (presumably) waking, undrunk.
But I have also lost, or at the very least, greatly confused my objectives. I will tell you about that night, without even asking undrunk you if you really want to know or myself if I really want to tell or why. I didn’t want to before, I know that much.
That night: I had left at the pool a towel, a shirt of Maggie’s and a pair of one of the kids’ shoes (which was normal; I even sometimes left my own shoes at the pool; we are a barefooted family). Brian had taken these items home and washed them, and he wanted to drop them off at Cheryl’s so as not to disturb me. She said, why don’t you call her and go over there. He had been avoiding taking the lead with contacting me. She said, oh just go on over there, so he decided to quietly hang the bag on my doorknob, in case it was important (shoes), then text me to let me know it was there. I heard him shuffling around and looked through the peephole and was happy to see him.
Please, come in.
He looked at me, and asked if I were ok. (I’m ok.) You don’t look ok. (I’m fine.) Have you eaten? (No.) Have you eaten at all today? (A little.)
Here’s the part I especially didn’t share with you, and I don’t know precisely why. Because it didn’t seem strictly necessary, maybe. The later activities both eclipsed the earlier, and they sufficiently condemned me, so telling you that seemed sufficient. But maybe I was just lying to myself there. Probably I was still trying to cover my tracks (unexpected guest, invited him in, base him stay late — see? nothing expected or thought through). Maybe I just wanted to keep something nice, even though I spoiled it in what followed, perhaps even deliberately, and even though it was also don’t know what I want or deserve to keep or what is even keepable now, though, and you are asking me something specific.
Then he looked at me again and looked away and sighed in a way both impatient and nervous and looked at me again and said, may I take you out? I would like to take you out of here and buy you dinner. Or I can go home. And that’s fine, too. I don’t want to put you on the spot. It’s up to you.
And I said, I haven’t offered you anything to drink. Would you like some water? (Sure.) So I left him alone and got us water and came back talking about something irrelevant. And at some point I said, is the Mexican place up the road any good? And he said, yes, it is.
And I let him buy me dinner. Afterwards, he seemed shocked that I invited him in (I did not have any beverages to offer, so I had to ask if he wanted to smoke a last cigarette with me on the porch. He did. After that, he planned to and tried to kiss me goodbye and go home. But I asked him to stay. Because I wanted this thing. This having met a man, who is trying to do things right, and letting him take me out, and asking him to stay. And I didn’t even know for sure if I wanted this particular man, nor how much, but I didn’t want to say goodbye and go alone to bed that night. Then I would have tell you something different. That I had gone on a conscious date (while you were waiting for me). Maybe I had sex to protect that, maybe to cheapen it. I was in a very conflicted mood. I wanted that whole thing and I didn’t. He woke up, and kissed me gently, and left very early, before 5, for work. I awoke alone and destructive.
Now I will wipe away my tears, send this to you, and go to work.