Monday, March 16, 2009

Blog: How It Works

Originally Posted August 29, 2008 on MySpace

~ Lucy got me again. I've been 900 miles away visiting my best friend, his wife, and his sister-in-law, Lucy. I spent the 5 hour flight home selecting the happiest songs on my iPod to drown the seriously bummed feelings swimming inside me. You'd think after 2 years and 4 or 5 visits I'd have learned my lesson, but I'm too damn trusting.

~ This is how it works. After months of silence Lucy will call. Sometimes she wants to vent. Sometimes she wants advice. Sometimes she just misses me. If we talk for long she'll start asking those questions again:

"When are you coming to visit?"

"Why don't you move out here?"

Worse, if I am planning a visit Lucy starts making plans:

"I'm taking you to the beach."

"You have to see my dorm room/apartment/new apartment."

It's all very warm. I couldn't ask for a better rapport with an old flame, but when I get there she gets distant. She suddenly can't find the time to see me. If I do see her she freezes over. She won't talk to me or look at me. She certainly won't smile and laugh for me. When she gives me a chance I can slowly ease her defenses, but those chances are rare.

~ This last trip, Lucy came by my friend's house to pick up her sister. We were in the living room when Lucy arrived. Not only didn't she say hello, she didn't even come into the room. She peeked around the corner briefly then disappeared. Hardly the welcome I expected from someone who promised she'd bake me cookies. Later that week we were wrestling. It started out with Lucy poking her sister. I came between them and deflected pokes, but found it easier to restrain Lucy. Now restrained, Lucy's boyfriend began poking her. I released her only to have it escalate into a water fight. I thought after that it was safe to attempt a goodbye hug. She snubbed my out-stretched arm, but at her boyfriend's behest yielded a half-hearted motion that could have been mistaken for a hug from 30,000 feet.

~ The flight home offered plenty of time to think --an offer I turned down as I turned up my music. However, my sunken mood surfaced before the plane did. Upon picking me up, my father asked how the trip was. I told him.

He said, "That's not just immaturity. There's something wrong with her."

I said, "I know, but it doesn't stop me from taking a fall every time she sets me up. It doesn't stop me from trying to kick the football every time she swears she'll hold it. That's just how it works."


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