“Please understand, Henry. Please. Some things are better left unsaid.”
“Maybe,” Henry says. “But not in this case. You’re hiding something that torments you. And you expect me to be your best friend, but not have a clue about what’s going on with you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whimper. For a second my eyes meet Henry’s and I think he might soften, but instead he turns to leave without even saying ciao . I’m left flabbergasted, staring at the remains of our picnic. I look over at my cats, sitting there on the futon without a care in the world. Lucky them. I take a few steps over, slide into the bed next to them and close my eyes. I have to take a nap because I am too drained to do anything else. I don’t even have the energy to check my email to see if Professor Sparling has replied. Who would have ever guessed I’d be too tired for that? But it’s not just physical exhaustion. It’s the massive mishmash of information my brain needs to process. Each thing on its own is overwhelming: Professor Sparling, Jake’s news about Angelina, Jake’s news about my father, and Henry … How am I supposed to process the vast amount of emotional matter that’s been thrown at me all within a few days’ time? Right now I’m just shutting out everything that has to do with Jake’s visit. I allow part of my mind to continue to completely obsess over Professor Sparling. And another part keeps drifting back to the way it felt to be nearly naked in Henry’s arms. What if my towel had fallen off? What would have happened? This is one of those moments when it would be nice to have someone other than a cat to talk to. It’s true, my cats are great listeners, but I know the advice they’d give me: eat a fresh can of tuna, take a nap in a cardboard box, and all will be good. Frankly, I’m too drained to think or talk about anything now, and I am certainly not in the mood for tuna! I pull off my clothes and slip on a white button down sleep shirt, styled like a men’s shirt with loose collar. I’m so exhausted I can barely close the buttons.
I awake disoriented. I have no idea what time or day it is until I rub the sleep out of my eyes and see the remains of the “picnic” on my table. The almost dark sky tells me it must be close to 5:00 p.m. The days are so short at Christmastime. I can’t believe I’ve slept away the entire afternoon. My cats seemed very pleased that I’ve done so. “I’m just like you two today,” I say as I stroke each of them a few times. They both roll over for belly rubs and I oblige. I start thinking about Henry’s departure and while I can understand his frustration with me, I don’t understand why he left. Could he be that furious at me for hiding something from him? He’s always known I have secrets, so why was he so dramatic today? Why the cold, angry departure? Clearly, it has something to do with Jake. Henry doesn’t believe me that my feelings for Jake are long gone. But, it makes no sense for Henry to be jealous. Jake was the light of my dark past, but the past is the past and even if I wanted to have more with Jake, I couldn’t. He’s on his way to being a husband and a father. His wife to be, Angelina, is pretty and nice. I’m sure they’ll be happy together. The last thing I’m going to do is try to throw myself back into Jake’s life. He, Angelina, and their baby-to-be deserve happiness. So, really, Henry has nothing to be jealous of where Jake’s concerned. If he were going to be jealous of someone it should be Professor Sparling, who is the only man I’ve fantasized about in years. But I’m getting carried away again with my thoughts about Henry. I remind myself that Henry has zero reason to be jealous of any man in my life. He and I are not a couple. We’ve never even talked about getting together. We have always and only been best friends. We just don’t think about each other in that way.
Shit. That’s all I have to say about my situation. I don’t
“Maybe,” Henry says. “But not in this case. You’re hiding something that torments you. And you expect me to be your best friend, but not have a clue about what’s going on with you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whimper. For a second my eyes meet Henry’s and I think he might soften, but instead he turns to leave without even saying ciao . I’m left flabbergasted, staring at the remains of our picnic. I look over at my cats, sitting there on the futon without a care in the world. Lucky them. I take a few steps over, slide into the bed next to them and close my eyes. I have to take a nap because I am too drained to do anything else. I don’t even have the energy to check my email to see if Professor Sparling has replied. Who would have ever guessed I’d be too tired for that? But it’s not just physical exhaustion. It’s the massive mishmash of information my brain needs to process. Each thing on its own is overwhelming: Professor Sparling, Jake’s news about Angelina, Jake’s news about my father, and Henry … How am I supposed to process the vast amount of emotional matter that’s been thrown at me all within a few days’ time? Right now I’m just shutting out everything that has to do with Jake’s visit. I allow part of my mind to continue to completely obsess over Professor Sparling. And another part keeps drifting back to the way it felt to be nearly naked in Henry’s arms. What if my towel had fallen off? What would have happened? This is one of those moments when it would be nice to have someone other than a cat to talk to. It’s true, my cats are great listeners, but I know the advice they’d give me: eat a fresh can of tuna, take a nap in a cardboard box, and all will be good. Frankly, I’m too drained to think or talk about anything now, and I am certainly not in the mood for tuna! I pull off my clothes and slip on a white button down sleep shirt, styled like a men’s shirt with loose collar. I’m so exhausted I can barely close the buttons.
I awake disoriented. I have no idea what time or day it is until I rub the sleep out of my eyes and see the remains of the “picnic” on my table. The almost dark sky tells me it must be close to 5:00 p.m. The days are so short at Christmastime. I can’t believe I’ve slept away the entire afternoon. My cats seemed very pleased that I’ve done so. “I’m just like you two today,” I say as I stroke each of them a few times. They both roll over for belly rubs and I oblige. I start thinking about Henry’s departure and while I can understand his frustration with me, I don’t understand why he left. Could he be that furious at me for hiding something from him? He’s always known I have secrets, so why was he so dramatic today? Why the cold, angry departure? Clearly, it has something to do with Jake. Henry doesn’t believe me that my feelings for Jake are long gone. But, it makes no sense for Henry to be jealous. Jake was the light of my dark past, but the past is the past and even if I wanted to have more with Jake, I couldn’t. He’s on his way to being a husband and a father. His wife to be, Angelina, is pretty and nice. I’m sure they’ll be happy together. The last thing I’m going to do is try to throw myself back into Jake’s life. He, Angelina, and their baby-to-be deserve happiness. So, really, Henry has nothing to be jealous of where Jake’s concerned. If he were going to be jealous of someone it should be Professor Sparling, who is the only man I’ve fantasized about in years. But I’m getting carried away again with my thoughts about Henry. I remind myself that Henry has zero reason to be jealous of any man in my life. He and I are not a couple. We’ve never even talked about getting together. We have always and only been best friends. We just don’t think about each other in that way.
Shit. That’s all I have to say about my situation. I don’t
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