― Sylvia Plath
Solitudes
It's weird how things can turn bad so fast. When Elaine told me she knew Cindy and where I could meet her, I felt hopeful. I really believed that if we could just talk we could work out our differences.
I was totally upfront and honest with Cindy but the one thing I didn't bank on was that she wouldn't believe me. I gave her no reason to doubt me. I never lied to her and frankly I was angry that was suspicious of my motives.
Yes, I get that she had an upsetting relationship prior to me and maybe that scar still didn't heal. Maybe I'm upset with myself for assuming she could just move on when she may not have been ready to trust another man.
And maybe it's my fault for pushing things when she just wasn't ready.
By the time I drive back to my townhouse, I've completely reversed my perception of our conversation. I can now see I was way too impulsive in getting out of the car and ending things the way I did.
Why didn't I suggest we continue jogging together and maybe over time she'd find that she could trust me?
No, that would be just too calm and reasonable. I always emote and end up regretting things afterward. Maybe that explains why I'm fifty and a bachelor.
Stupid, stupid, stupid... and now I'm back to being sad and lonely. I know what Lev would say―move on to Storm Saunders, and that's probably the logical thing to do but my heart was set on Cindy.
In trying to make things better, I only made them worse.
I just make it in the door when the storm that was threatening finally breaks and the rain pours down.
Seems appropriate, I muse cynically, but I'm not really bitter―just sad that things always seem to have a way of turning out badly.
"Looks like it's just you and me tonight, Bud," I tell Albert and scratch behind his ears as he rubs up against me, probably sensing my mood.
I open a tin of tuna for him and give it as a treat. He should get a reward for always being there for me. As I empty the fish into his bowl I can feel a lump forming in my throat and push it away. It's how I cope with things.
Outside, the storm unleashes its fury, punishing trees and drumming its fists against the windows. Unlike me, it doesn't hold back―it's elemental, the way I want to be but can't.
I light a fire and pour a glass of wine. I was hungry earlier but now have lost my appetite.
The drumming gets louder and I get up to see what's happening and realize it's coming from the door. I open and see Cindy standing on the porch, her hair and clothes drenched from the rain.
"C-Come in," I stammer in surprise, "you're going to catch your death of cold out in this storm."
"You always seem to rescue wounded birds," she manages to say through chattering teeth.
She slips out of her wet sneakers and I can see she's soaked to the skin.
"There's a washroom down the hall where you can towel off and a hair dryer. I'll leave some dry clothes for you outside the door and you can put your wet clothes in the dryer, in the room next to the kitchen."
"You've done this before," she smiles.
"Famous for it...apparently."
She pats my arm and in stocking feet, pads down the hall to the washroom.
I make a large carafe of coffee and put out croissants and jam. I find a grey cable knit sweater and a pair of skinny jeans in my closet and put them just outside the door where she can easily reach them.
When she finally appears, it's deja vu all over again, except Lori could never match Cindy's mature vibe.
"You look better in that sweater than I ever could," I tell her, awe-struck by her beauty.
"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," she smiles mischievously.
Touché. I have no reply to that, nor should I try to make one.
"I'm sorry," I tell her, "for getting offended. I realized afterwards I was pushing you when you hadn't fully processed through your prior relationship."
"I was being too hard on you, Callum. Truth is, I was jealous of Lori. I wanted to be the one wearing your clothes and being cared for by you―and here I am. She gives a cynical laugh. "I guess you can have what you want."
At that moment, the power goes off. The room is plunged into darkness, except for flames dancing in the grate and the blue flare of lightning at the windows.
"Don't worry, I'm prepared," I reassure her and light the portable lanterns I readied when the storm broke.
A loud peal of thunder sounds above us and the reverberation causes the windows to rattle. She gasps and instinctively grabs onto my arm.
"We're safe here―it's only noise and can't hurt us. You can close your eyes if lightning frightens you."
"Do you mind if I stay close to you?" she asks.
"I can live with that,"I smile.
"So can I," she whispers back.
Sometimes there's no need for words. Those lines on your face are fault lines telling you something's scarred within.
You just have to accept it and move on. We're all flawed in ways we don't even comprehend.
We're two solitudes...
That's what Rumi meant when he said we need to fall ill. We need to embrace each other and let our weakness become our strength.