I finished it!

...and I'm not promising it's any good since I'm also intoxicated. Rob has the kids, and I don't get them until tomorrow. I've wanted to finish this sucker up forever. Now I have.

For Amanda....

*****
For a year he professed his love to me. I had never been so inundated with verbal and written affirmation of affection and adoration in my life. Romantic poetry, a short story, emails, phone calls--listening to his whispered words of love, I bathed in the pool of his promises, only to drown in the end. What galls me the most is that I believed every damn word he said. I had been skeptical at first, but he won me over. I trusted him. I actually trusted him to mean what he said. Fool!

I remember the moment where it all changed. Our bodies entangled, my muscles sore and my thighs bruised, he sighed softly as he freed himself from my embrace. Who can regret seven hours of bliss? Typical of the difference of our genders, I came away from our one tryst with stronger ties and emotions....and he came away and found someone else. He had wrapped up all of his love and joy and adoration of me into the tidy package of his sperm...shot it all into me....and was done.Oh, of course there was the obligatory "we almost got back together" incident. That's the part wherein the woman (AKA hopeful, trusting idiot) believes he's changed his mind completely and risks it all again. That's also the part wherein the man (AKA, it's only fun when I'm doing the chasing) returns simply to make sure he's carved out every scrap of the girl's heart and left nothing behind. Heaven forbid he leave me with anything other than numbness as an emotion. If I had been gifted with even the tiniest scrap of a heart still inside my ribcage, I might have loved again. His returning to finish the job was a masterful stroke. Genius, truly! It left me unable to love another, ever again. I could be his forever...and he didn't even have to KEEP me!

And yet before I sleep every night, I remember his face as it turned away from me, laughing. A devilish grin, his eyes twinkling, his smooth, firm jawline tilted just so....and I sigh. And my eyes tighten with tears unshed. And the empty space in my chest constricts, just as an amputee sometimes feels his arm when it has been removed.I wonder when it all fades. When do I become whole again? When do I recover? When do I smile sweetly at my friends and announce tritely, "It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." Fuck it. If I had never loved, I'd still have a heart. I'd be able to sleep soundly every night. I'd be able to dream.

With all this in mind, I packed my lunch for work. A woman typically has three men in her life: the man she married, the man she should have married, and the man she can't forget. I have all three. At least that's good. I've checked those boxes. It means I won't have to go through it again, right?

The phone rang at that point. I needed to head off to work; did I really have to answer it? Of course I did. It's a compulsion for anyone from my family to do such things. A phone rings, you answer it--no matter what you were doing. A knock sounds on the door, you answer it. A piece of trash is on the ground, you pick it up and throw it away. This is just what we Henrys do. A Henry is an obsessive-compulsive to the end. And so, rather than fight genetics, I answered the phone.

"Happy birthday," I heard immediately after I said hello. My breath sucked inwards at once. Rick. It's Rick. I could recognize that timbre of voice anywhere. Not deep yet not light, his voice straddled the perfect land in-between of a man who has thought and sensuality simultaneously. I hated getting phone calls from him. My mind flashed back instantly to his jawline and his bright blue eyes. Swallowing, I replied tartly, "I don't celebrate birthdays anymore. I stopped at 21. That was the last one that meant anything," and I clutched the phone as if it were my lifesaver tossed to me in the most violent of storms."Well, I don't want to keep you from work," he replied smoothly, "but I didn't want you to think I forgot, either. Even if you say you don't celebrate it anymore, I know women well enough to know how far in the doghouse I'll be with you if I forget it! I sent myself two emails, put a post-it note on my phone, taped up a note on my bedroom door, and then also slapped up a note on the refrigerator to remind myself," he chuckled. I swallowed, not wanting to know the lengths he went to in order to remember this day. "You know how bad I am with dates. But you matter to me, so...I had to make sure I called. You going anywhere tonight? Perhaps with Chris?" He added the last as if he could not possibly care less if I went out with Chris, but I suspected it was yet another fishing expedition. Rick didn't want me anymore, but he'd be delighted if nobody else got me either. I wondered what the thrill was in that. He often professed that he wanted me to be happy and was so delighted that I moved on. I sometimes managed to believe him, too. Today was not one of those days, however.

"Nah. Going to buy a jar opener. I already have a stepstool and a vibrator, so if I get a jar opener, I have no need for a man," I quipped without thinking. "Ahhhh angel, you are something else," he chuckled. His chuckles broadened for a moment, and I imagined him shaking his head as well. "Well, I won't keep you, dearest. There's a little present on the way. Just a token of our friendship and all. Because I still care about you, no matter what, 'k?"

And there it was. The teaser, the yank of the test line as the hook sank deeper in my mouth. Once again, I wouldn't be sleeping well tonight. Why the FUCK does he do this to me? What's the point? And men complain that women send mixed signals! SHEESH!

"Ok," I responded coolly, trying to keep all emotion out of my voice. "That was sweet of you. And thanks for the call. Gotta go to work now. Take care."He blew a damn kiss at me before he hung up. Freaking bastard. But NO, he has no feelings for me and it's so good we split up. But NO, if we got back together for a third time I'd never be able to trust him, and I'd run him off with my insecurities as I waited for the next split up at his request. Damned if you do....damned if you don't. Happy freaking birthday, Savannah, I thought to myself in disgust as I then ran over to slide on my shoes and head out the door. I hated being late.

When I arrived at the office, I thanked the people who wished me well on my birthday. There would be a cake later, of course, probably at lunch. But for now, what I wanted most was to retreat to my office and review over and over again the call I received. Why couldn’t I let go? Oh, a few months of therapy shed a bit of light on the matter, but not enough that I could stop it. I knew WHY I was painfully attracted to a wholly inappropriate man, but I had no idea how to quell the feelings. When a woman knows with certainty a man is no good for her, how does she teach her body, mind, and soul to pretend they are just friends? I didn’t know. I truly, fully, didn’t know.

All of my girlfriends would have been scolded should I know of their stupidity in this direction. If I knew a good friend still pined repeatedly after a man who dumped her and did inappropriate things, I would have beaten her senseless with verbiage until she either decided she couldn’t tell me more about the man or she gave up on him. However, there I sat, unable to do work as I reviewed all that had transpired between me and ‘that man.’ My god. Rick was so much younger than me and couldn’t do more than take a menial job and hold it in life. For him, being able to work day in and day out without quitting was accomplishment enough. Why on earth would I desire a man like that?

And yet, I remember…I remember those whispered words, softly trilling on my ears, the exact content of which I had always wanted to hear…and I know. I know why I can’t let go of him. I know why Chris should run because he deserves better than this wraith of a woman that he chooses to date. He deserves better, and yet he doesn’t. How do you reconcile? I am not good enough. I am too good. I can’t decide. Neither can he.

It took a full hour before I could concentrate on my work. And then, the present arrived. He couldn’t just send it to my house like a normal man: he sent it to my workplace. I gingerly unwrapped the present as if it were a Faberge egg, and then I stared at the end product.

A necklace. A thin, snake-like gold chain with a small heart at the end, covered in tiny diamond chips and rubies.

Oh god…but I thought he had a girlfriend? I thought he wanted nothing to do with me? How does one misinterpret a heart necklace as a token of friendship?

The tears started, but then they stopped. The phone rang, and I am a practical woman. It’s best when one learns how to turn the emotions on and off for the rest of the world’s viewing pleasure.

I heard instantly Chris’ voice, light and cheerful. “Love of my life! How are you doing on this birthday day?” he inquired, and I couldn’t help but smile. Welcome, man I should have married, man who always knows what to say. Man who loves me for just what I am. Man who deserves the best life can offer, but man who is stuck with me.

“Hey, dear…just trying to get some work done,” I lied, staring at the heart-shaped necklace as we talked. How would I explain this one? I could just tell him that the jewelry was something Tony gave me, but he was too smart to believe it. Tony would have never given me anything so romantic. When I was married to Tony, I periodically had the florist send me flowers and had his name signed just so the rest of the office thought my life was better than it actually was. Tony was oblivious to what a woman really needed or wanted. If Chris said he believed it, he would just say that to please me. He was too smart to know it to be truth.

“Well, I wanted to apologize about having to be away on business tonight…you know if I could help it I’d be there,” he told me, and actually I knew he was right. Surprised, I realized that when Chris spoke to me, I knew it was accurate. The man didn’t know how to lie. How odd! So, quickly I replied, “Yeah, I know that honey….but two days from now, we go to the Inn and have a great time, so I’m good! Don’t worry! I’ll find a way to celebrate tonight!” I told him. Many more words of love were exchanged as Chris poured his heart and soul into me. Then he had to go. I had known Chris for years, but I only finally let him into my life the day after my last “encounter” with Rick. Rick wanted reassurance that I was still his, reassurance I was only too happy to provide. I provided it…and the next day he was back with an ex-girlfriend. What was that, two months ago? I had called up Chris immediately for a shoulder to cry on, and it developed into something more. Chris was everything a woman could desire. I kept waiting for him to walk out, too. Not yet though. Not yet. Give it time…

The rest of the day was predictable. I had a cake at lunch with a few presents, and I stared at the whole festivity while fingering the heart around my neck. A co-worker asked where I got that lovely necklace. “Oh, my boyfriend sent it to me,” I lied before I could stop myself. Rick wasn’t my boyfriend. Why the hell did I say it like that? God, I am so screwed in the head.

The workday ended, and I was relieved. I wouldn’t spend the night thinking of ANY of my men: Tony, Rick, Chris. I would go home, drink brandy until I felt all better, play with my dog and walk him, and then tumble into bed, waking up with a hangover. It’d be ok. Today was a Friday, and I knew I could get as drunk as I wanted to be. Happy freaking birthday, Savannah, I repeated to myself, driving home with my right hand and playing with the heart with my left.

Do you ever have a day when you drive home and visualize driving the car into a ditch, or a telephone pole, or another car? Today was one of those days. I kept hoping I’d die before I reached home, and my stomach started cramping something awful. I wondered if I’d throw up before I even reached my apartment. The images would not end, however. Would I be able to sleep and never wake up? That would work in lieu of a car crash….
When I pulled up into the parking lot, I stared up at my apartment. There was Shithead, staring through the sliding glass window, shaking his long golden retriever tail with a ferocity reserved for flaying and whipping the enemy. Most people never understood why I named my dog Shithead, so I called him S.H. in public. Tony, however, understood. Rick understood. And Chris. And that’s why my list was as it was, I suppose. Short damn list. Too few interesting guys in the world, and the ones I liked were usually assholes.

I thought of Rick as I stared at my dog, gripping onto the wheel of my car as if it would somehow keep me afloat. Why? What was wrong with me? He had so little going for him, so you’d think he would be thrilled to get somebody as great as me. Maybe I wasn’t so great. Maybe…oh damn, the nausea hit me again. I grabbed my work bag and my purse and fled the car, running to Shithead since there was nobody else.

As I fumbled with the keys, I realized that there was a growing wetness between my thighs. I stared down, dumbly, and understood that the wetness was blood. I was long overdue for my period…but…confused, I awkwardly opened the door, threw my bags down, locked the door behind me, ignored Shithead’s excited greeting, and ran for the bathroom.

There it was. My life’s blood, the baby’s essence, pouring out of me as water from a pitcher. I sat on the toilet for an hour, Shithead coming in periodically to watch and eventually sprawling out at my feet, napping. Rick, I wailed in my head, oh god Rick, oh god, why? And I cried. And I bled. And I cried some more.

When the hour was out, I cleaned myself up and called Chris.

“Honey? Oh, I’m sorry to wake you up…I just had to say how much I love you,” I whispered hoarsely into the phone.

Finally. It was true. And finally, it would be all right. Yet, I didn’t remove the heart-shaped necklace. I couldn’t. I just…couldn’t.

“Night, love of my life,” I softly told him, hanging up after our brief conversation, and I tumbled into bed. Shithead jumped up and curled in the fetal position next to me. With surprising speed, we were then both asleep.