Mixed two early '70s cultural tropes there but whattareyagonnado?
So as I posted above-above, there was an agonizing telcon precipitated by an agonizing early morning encounter.
I am awake early and at the computer. This a.m. I was reading various documents on the treatment complications of the cancer for which I am undergoing tests. Trying very hard to keep the PMA -- another snake on the brain, Coach -- and just gathering information. Not panicking. Not enough info for that.
W comes in. "Good morning. I'm leaving."
Okay. Have a good day. Drive safely.
"What's wrong?"
Now SP is not in a particularly chipper mood. Nothing's wrong; I'm just reading a bit here.
This precipitates a three-round final elimination March Madness triple-crown What's Wrong/Nothing/No, What's Wrong/I Said Nothing. "You're reading about me, aren't you?"
[N.B.: W seems to believe that I have magickal computing powers that allow me to intercept all packets going to the router and decode them, in real time, via my amazingly agile cheap 13" laptop.]
Finally I throw down my pen in frustration, swing the monitor in her direction and say, You're right. It's all about you. Here, read it. It's all about you.
W reads, gasps, and bolts from the room. Okay. I admit it. That wasn't cool. But damn!
So feeling guilty, I write a brief e-mail apologizing for the tone, telling her I was pushing my Stuff onto her plate and that wasn't fair -- she's got enough on her plate.
I've heard her say that she feels huge guilt over the children, fear of the future, fear of being without love in the future, guilt about hurting me ("it would be so much easier if you were a bad guy, but you're not; you're just not my guy anymore" -- which is a really cruel thing to say, if you think about it), uncertainty about the money, and so forth; and I say that I would imagine that all of those negative feelings are even more confusing when balanced against a kind of excitement about what the future might hold. So there's not enough information to add this to your worries. So I'm sorry about that.
10 minutes later, the reply. "I take exception to you describing me as 'excited' about this."
And a reply: Fair enough, I apologize for that. I didn't mean to project. From my point of view, it would seem to be a weird mix of sadness and excitement -- who knows where you might go?
And a call. Reiterating the exception. Expanding on the exception. And then it gets ugly.
"I wouldn't have as much on my plate if you'd just tell me what your intentions are about the money."
35 minutes of me beating my head on the desk, crying, not believing that right now, in the middle of all this, I should be doing her a favor by putting a price on 22 years of togetherness, 18 years of marriage, and 2 children. That can't be what this is about.
"Money is all divorce is about."
Well that was it for me. I had to get ready for a meeting at the shop. And I just couldn't process any more.
But when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
En-route to the shop, a cell phone call. Hello?
"Hi, it's me." Okay. "I want to apologize for that discussion."
(Now this is a first. This does not compute.)
You don't have to apologize; I started the whole thing with the excitement issue.
"No, I do have to apologize." W continues that, in fact, it's bigger than money. It's not about money. The love, the good times, the happiness. Not about money. And W is crying. And I'm crying.
So what to do, what to do? Desperately need to talk to DB Coach, but next appointment 6 days away.
So I listen and hear and affirm. I accept the apology and tell her it's a very nice thing to hear and I know it was hard to do that and I appreciate it.
"You don't have to tell me your private business because of...where we are. But I would be there for you. Just like I would be for any friend." Thank you, that's nice of you to say. But you said it yourself -- we're on our own, now. There's no "we" in this situation anymore. Just me.
And she cries some more. "I would take care of you. I would take care of the kids while you got well."
And then it came. And time reversed and I entered a black hole inside of a vortex surrounded by a time warp.
"I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I do love you." (Just not that way, presumably?)
And the phone is quiet. And she is crying quietly. And I don't know what to do because I'm crying and I can barely see and I'm driving 65 miles per hour.
And I don't know what to say because I know if I open my mouth I'm going right back to that terrible night 2 months ago when the D-bomb exploded in my living room, and I did all the things you're not supposed to do, and if I do that my DB'ing is back to Square One and I'll be pursuing and chasing and not being mysterious or dim or dark or detached or manly or...
And I did it anyway. I said, "I love you, too."
And she was quiet. And I had to get off, I had to stop the train, I had to stop my mouth, I had to stop the roller-coaster because I wanted off, I couldn't speak another word or I'd crash and die and the kids would be sad.
So I simply said, There's a lot I want to say, but I just can't right now. Can we sit down and talk? I mean, can we just sit down together and talk?
And she said in a very small voice, "Okay." And I said, Okay, and hung up the phone.
-------- So now what? What do I say? What don't I say? I know what I want to say, what I want more than anything to say, but.... It's been hours now. Perhaps she's put her face back together. Perhaps she's banished those weaknesses. Perhaps the wall is intact. Perhaps she just feels sorry for me.
What do I do?
All that I touch, and all that I see, and all that I taste, all that I feel; and all that I love, and all that I hate, and all I distrust, and all I save...and all that is gone, and all that's to come, and everything under the sun is in tune. But the sun is eclipsed by the moon.
