Cliff wondered what kind of man could still love a woman who dumped him twice and was having too much fun to drop him a line once in a while? Why did he believe the things she said to him? Why did he trust her? It could go two ways, he thought. Either I loathe myself and need to somehow punish myself with anxiety and depression. And it's a textbook depression. The kind where you just can't get out of bed. Or, is it because, somewhere in the valleys of his core, he knew he loved her and that she loved him and things would turn out. Turn out how?
What happened to the plans? The preparations for travel and uninterrupted communication? Didn't he say she would call but it would have to be very judicious? Yeah, Cliff thought, I remember that. Didn't he say we would Skype once a week? Again, Cliff remembered those words.
What about the almost unintelligible "profile" on the business connections site? What the fuck was that all about? Bewildered and feeling disheveled, Cliff lifted his glass of wine and sniffed. He drank. Yes, he told himself, it would be great to be a drummer in a hot band again. But I've already done that. Man, I'm 60. I don't think I want to do that anymore. What is it like, Cliff wondered, to get to a place where you can even forget about love? Is there such a place on the Earth? Must be, Cliff assumed, my girlfriend found it.
Cliff stood stiff. His eyes darted back and forth as if an answer was just beyond his sight. What is this all about? Cliff is perplexed. He had taken her at her word. He didn't know forces stronger than he were at work when she left country. It was agreed the time would be short. He would repair the house. She would return and come see Cliff and the house. She would take the train. It sounded like a storybook romance where the couple overcomes all the obstacles and wins. Cliff reveled in it. He felt the love, he felt her presence in his house.
Cliff ruminated about it. Was it me? I'll bet it was the first time we Skyped. I was probably too matter of fact, not lively enough. Fuck, it didn't make any difference right now. One thing Cliff knew was this is as real as a rock for him. He still loved her. It's real. She is a part of me, he said out loud to the empty room. When she quit communicating with him, he tried to shrug it off. Lots of excitement, he figured. Then he tried to ignore it. She sent a short note on Valentine's Day. That was cool. Cliff was hopeful. The next couple of emails were the nuclear ones, the ones that sent Cliff into a frenzy, the ones that said yes, I'm ready for a relationship but can't give you what you want right now. Cliff's frontal lobes ached. He thought he had a relationship only to be informed that, if anything, it was nothing more than a rehearsal. Miffed. Cliff was miffed. It was as if he didn't understand anything anymore. His world had never been like this. Maybe he was naive. Didn't see it coming. They promised monogamy. He held no hope for that. Yes, he was still monogamous but for how long? He wanted to be. Damnit, Cliff said. Damn! Fuck! Shit! Hell! How could he let himself fall? He had dated other women. They were cute, vivacious, funny, beautiful but they did nothing to Cliff like this woman did to him. She collected his heart and left town.
He missed her.
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