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I knew we had come to the end of the road when she stopped speaking to me. Acted like I wasn’t there. That morning I asked her what her plans were. She said she was going driving, certainly not lying in the sun. I had just woken up. Not even had my morning smoke. I laid in my bed while she stuffed her jacket, maps and camera into her backpack. “What were you thinking of doing?” “Hit some shops. I don’t know. What are you going to do?” I told her I might lie in the sun. She told me I would pay for it. I told her I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, I would decide after my shower. I thought I said something to imply I might like to go driving with her.
I was putting my shoes on when she left. My stomach dropped. Why was she leaving without me? I ran outside to call after her when she got to the car. “Hey, I know you” she said coming from behind me. “You look familiar.” I said. The sight of my backpack and her mood changed. “I thought you were going to lie in the sun?” “I decided that wouldn’t be wise with this sunburn.” Her response made it clear she didn’t want me going with her. She wanted to be alone. I was frozen a moment, feeling foolish. She was good at making me feel two feet tall. “Are you coming?” she asked sounding irritated. I started backing away from the car. “I don’t know. I don’t like the way you’re acting.” She shrugged and started getting in the car, reaching over to unlock the passenger door. “I won’t talk,” I said. “You said shops make you claustrophobic and that’s what I’m going to be doing.” “I’ll deal with it,” I said. “Do what you want” she said backing up. I wanted to tell her to just bring me back to the hotel but was too humiliated to open my mouth.
That I even agreed on this vacation amazed everyone including myself. We had gone on a weekend trip over the summer where the results were something of a fiasco. The trip had it’s moments but the after effects left me miserable for nearly a month. Now here I agreed on spending eight days with her. Sleeping in the same room with her. Seeing her in her bathing suit. There would be no issue if I was not in love with her. Did she know? She did not even know I was gay. We worked at the same place and I feared telling her would result in me eventually having to resign from my job. My sexuality would be big gossip around the work place and she would be some sort of hero for being the germ that spread the news. No, that is one of the many sad things about our acquaintanceship, if I did not feel I could not trust her enough to confide in her, why did I continue to feel so strongly for her? Go out of my way for her approval when all I seemed to get in return was rejection? Before we left, she talked a lot about picking up guys. Suntanned guys in tight bathing suits. I turned into that green-eyed monster when she talked about males. I could barely hide my jealousy when she insinuated her experience in sex, which was not much before her exaggerations. She talked big but I knew her well enough to see tight through her. I felt sorry for her, that she felt approval and acceptance was based on sexual experiences. I knew she had been with one guy her entire twenty-six years, but the way she talked covered the truth well. Also made it clear she was heterosexual. A week before we left she added some details to a male acquaintance she had the opportunity to flirt with. I heard her tell someone how she suggested he come to Florida with her since she had both tickets. “I told him he would have to explain what happened to the other ticket.” She said. My face was hot. My temper was ready to blow. I spoke through clenched teeth when I suggested if he had one thousand dollars cash, he could buy my ticket. She said he had other commitments. I had so little trust in her and our friendship that I would not put it past her to ask me if I would be willing to give up my ticket. She went on to imply what fun it would be to have lots of sex on vacation. The wounded lover. People who know me say I take on that role when I feel hurt by her.
Feeling as though she would rather be with anyone else on this trip was not something I could shrug off. The next day at work the first thing I asked her was if she talked to her friend to see if he wanted my ticket. “Oh, now you don’t want to go” she said. “I’m just looking out for your best interest” I told her. We did not talk to each other the rest of the day until I finally broke the silence, then we got along fine. We even had a conversation about this ‘friend’ of hers. She seemed to be seeing a lot of him and I asked if there was anything going on. She said he told her things could never work with them. His number one reason was because she did not go to college and their religions could not mix. My not going to college resulted in a lot of frustration with people telling me I should reconsider, how I could not go anywhere without a degree. I came to accept I would do okay. I would be all right. That this guy would not consider dating a girl who did not go to school infuriated me. I went off on one of my tirades about what an idiot this guy was with his shallow views. It angered me that she was so desperate for sex she would let someone who found her inferior to use her when he obviously had no respect for her. My voice was raised to where those in the room were taken aback by how strongly I felt about this guy’s attitude. After I was through I said religion should not matter either. “If two people care enough about each other they can make it work.” She reluctantly agreed with me. All my life I felt I could never be involved with someone outside of my religious beliefs and then I met her and suddenly religion did not matter.
Our trip started out wonderful. It pleased me how easily I made her laugh and how often, just by being myself. We jokingly bickered back and forth. I kept her amused and she commented a few times how well we traveled together. This was like a dream for me, for the lady I love to enjoy my company so much.
So here we are seven days into the trip and she has stopped talking to me. I have been called moody, but I am jolly compared to her. She gets in her ‘leave me alone, don’t talk to me’ moods a lot at work. That’s different. I can avoid her or insult her and leave. Different when I am sharing a hotel room with her. She is sitting two feet away from the television switching channels. I cannot stand her silence. She is no longer switching channels, just staring at the television. A boulder could be thrown through the window and she would not notice. I want to ask her what goes through her mind when she gets this way. I know she would just shrug. I can’t take it anymore, I storm out of the room and walk down to the beach. It is then I realize I am hungry and have one hour until the restaurant closes. After that it is the vending machines. I know she is not hungry but I go up to the room to ask her anyway. She does not even look at me. Just shakes her herhead. Why did I bother to ask? Because I love her and always go out of my way for her.
“One for dinner” I tell the hostess. This is a nice restaurant. Dim lighting. Soft music playing. Cloth napkins set in careful patterns on each plate. Candles. I have never felt awkward eating alone. Tonight I do. The waitress seems to pity me as she removes the rest of the place settings and fills my water glass. I stare at the empty chair in front of me hoping maybe she might change her mind and find me. Who was I fooling? I always fool myself when it comes to her. Always. I look around at the few people in the room. There is an old couple a few tables from me. The woman reminds me of my grandmother. The way she ate. Her stroke left one side of her mouth partially paralyzed so she ate very slow. The memories of all the times I had dinner with grandma in Florida, nice ones like these. Grandma is gone now. I really miss her.
Back in the room she is now lying on the bed watching television. I make some comment about how nice the restaurant was and my fear of being kicked out for just ordering a bowl of soup. I think she cracked a smile. I figured this was it for the night, she would soon be getting ready for bed. I take my first dose of sleeping pills. I was up to eight pills. I had no business taking the pills but I was going to be damned if I was going to lie awake all night listening to her breathing in the bed next to mine. I start reading and feeling a little relaxed. She passes me on her way to change. She is not going to bed. She has changed into her jeans and is putting on her jacket. I’m baffled, confused. What was going on? “Where are you going?” “Out.” I tried to make a joke with her but she only looked at me and said, “what’s that got to do with anything?” In that tone of voice that always cuts me deep. How could I feel so much for such a cold wench? She leaves and my sleeping pills turn into caffeine pills. Hearing the car peel out of the lot, my stomach dropped. I feel hopeless. At the restaurant I had thought about a drink. I had quit drinking nearly four years earlier. My sobriety was one of my big accomplishments. At the restaurant one of those thoughts crossed my mind to give it up, throw away what I worked so hard for. Sitting in the empty hotel room the lounge seemed an idea. Yes, if I still drank I would have parked myself inthe lounge until they kicked me out then stumbled back. It was rare that I felt such strong drinking urges, I just wanted the night to be over. Not have to deal with the bleeding in my heart.
The drinking urge has left by the time she returns. I wonder if I should confront her to ask what the hell is the matter with her? I know she would just shrug. Now I know what my mother goes through with me. So now we are back to her sitting silently in front of the television with her legs stretched out and her hands folded behind her head. I want so badly to say something but my mouth is frozen. The silence gets to me again and I have to leave the room. I had the door open to air out my cigarette smoke so I just stepped outside. I can see her shadow against the door. The flickering light of the channels changing. I lean against the railing staring up at the stars. I am out there about ten minutes. On my way in I say “You are very pensive tonight.” “Does it bother you?” She is actually looking at me. Her voice and expression remind me of her who I love. “Yes, it bothers me. I would ask what was wrong but I know you would only say ‘nothing.’” That was a great start. I might have gotten somewhere with that. Of all the things I could have said or even if I just left it at that yes, it bothered me. I might have gotten something out of her. Instead I say: “But, it’s none of my business.” That puts a finish to the conversation. She goes right back to staring at the television. I am so angry at myself I take more sleeping pills than I should. The dose on top of my emotions only leaves me agitated. I feel physically uncomfortable. I am awake long enough for her to fall asleep. She is a quiet sleeper. I don’t even realize she is asleep until she starts mumbling something in her sleep. Of course I listen carefully to try and make out what she is saying. What she says makes little sense except for one thing that I know would amuse her. Well, maybe three days ago it would have. If I tell her tomorrow she will probably say: “So I talk in my sleep. Sue me.”
