No Expectations
The first three months I expected nothing but affection. I received his sweet emails, he took me to dinner and out to The Balcony on the weekends. We went to the park, just to kiss. We kissed for hours in the park and I felt like I could kiss him for days, with out stopping, even for breath.
By six months, I expected his affection, but now I also wanted his time. Time without regard to the actual time. Time with no strings attached. Time is something he didn’t give me freely. But I still had his affection. We still went to dinners and to The Balcony or to Crickets. Sometimes we stayed in and watched movies. A lot of movies. We hardly ever slept apart and there were still an abundance of kisses. But only when there was time.
By nine months I expected that we were through. I thought that Saturday was the last night I would sleep near him. I was devastated then and even now my heart sinks when I think about it. One night I decided I wasn’t going to be alone anymore and in a moment of hurt and perhaps revenge, I didn’t stay alone. I thought we were over, permanently. After a week of no communication from him, not even an email, he called and hung up. I called back because I could never resist the thought that I might see him again. He was outside my apartment. I desperately wanted to see him, regardless of the hurt I felt over him leaving.
By eleven months I expected things to change. I said I would wait until after Christmas, but I was growing impatient and I still felt hurt. Especially hurt that I was going to spend the holidays alone, without him. Two days after Christmas I called him and told him that I needed for him to make up his mind. He did and for another month I slept next to him every night , and woke up with him every morning, and kissed him every day when I came home from work.
By twelve months I honestly never expected to see him again. I came home to his things cleared from my apartment. There wasn’t a trace that he had even been there. Once again, my heart sank and I cried. I didn’t know how I could have been so stupid. He was leaving soon, not just a city away, but he was leaving to another country. I didn’t expect for him to call two days later. I answered. I wasn’t going to, but I could never resist the thought that I might see him again. And I did. And he left for what seemed an eternity. And I could not wait for him to return.
By fifteen months I expected to have his heart. I was wrong. No one could touch his heart anymore, except for his son. I remember the next couple of months, or maybe it wasn’t that long, as being horrible. I remember knowing that I could not live like this any longer, but for some reason clutching to the idea of us being together. Then he left. And I cried. And then I felt relief. Like a burden had been lifted. He drove away and I stopped crying and I smoked a cigarette. I called my sister and told her I was glad he left. I couldn’t relax when he was there. I couldn’t relax when he was suppose to be there and wasn’t. Now he was neither, he was gone. The feeling of relief wore off after a couple of drinks and way too many cigarettes. That was when I went insane and forwarded him as many emails as I could before I needed to go sleep. Emails he had sent me from Kuwait. I only did 10 or so, but they all called him a liar. That’s what I thought he was. A liar. Everything he told me was a lie.
And then he wrote me back and said he didn’t lie. That everything would be different. This time it was assured that nothing would be as it was.
The next ten months I didn’t know what to expect. But, I was happy and sometimes angry and sometimes upset. But, I haven’t felt uneasy or unsure about us, even though things have never been made easy for us. We never assumed things would be.
Right now, I have no expectations. I have his affection, and his time, and now, I believe, his heart is exclusively mine. There isn’t a need for expectations.
By six months, I expected his affection, but now I also wanted his time. Time without regard to the actual time. Time with no strings attached. Time is something he didn’t give me freely. But I still had his affection. We still went to dinners and to The Balcony or to Crickets. Sometimes we stayed in and watched movies. A lot of movies. We hardly ever slept apart and there were still an abundance of kisses. But only when there was time.
By nine months I expected that we were through. I thought that Saturday was the last night I would sleep near him. I was devastated then and even now my heart sinks when I think about it. One night I decided I wasn’t going to be alone anymore and in a moment of hurt and perhaps revenge, I didn’t stay alone. I thought we were over, permanently. After a week of no communication from him, not even an email, he called and hung up. I called back because I could never resist the thought that I might see him again. He was outside my apartment. I desperately wanted to see him, regardless of the hurt I felt over him leaving.
By eleven months I expected things to change. I said I would wait until after Christmas, but I was growing impatient and I still felt hurt. Especially hurt that I was going to spend the holidays alone, without him. Two days after Christmas I called him and told him that I needed for him to make up his mind. He did and for another month I slept next to him every night , and woke up with him every morning, and kissed him every day when I came home from work.
By twelve months I honestly never expected to see him again. I came home to his things cleared from my apartment. There wasn’t a trace that he had even been there. Once again, my heart sank and I cried. I didn’t know how I could have been so stupid. He was leaving soon, not just a city away, but he was leaving to another country. I didn’t expect for him to call two days later. I answered. I wasn’t going to, but I could never resist the thought that I might see him again. And I did. And he left for what seemed an eternity. And I could not wait for him to return.
By fifteen months I expected to have his heart. I was wrong. No one could touch his heart anymore, except for his son. I remember the next couple of months, or maybe it wasn’t that long, as being horrible. I remember knowing that I could not live like this any longer, but for some reason clutching to the idea of us being together. Then he left. And I cried. And then I felt relief. Like a burden had been lifted. He drove away and I stopped crying and I smoked a cigarette. I called my sister and told her I was glad he left. I couldn’t relax when he was there. I couldn’t relax when he was suppose to be there and wasn’t. Now he was neither, he was gone. The feeling of relief wore off after a couple of drinks and way too many cigarettes. That was when I went insane and forwarded him as many emails as I could before I needed to go sleep. Emails he had sent me from Kuwait. I only did 10 or so, but they all called him a liar. That’s what I thought he was. A liar. Everything he told me was a lie.
And then he wrote me back and said he didn’t lie. That everything would be different. This time it was assured that nothing would be as it was.
The next ten months I didn’t know what to expect. But, I was happy and sometimes angry and sometimes upset. But, I haven’t felt uneasy or unsure about us, even though things have never been made easy for us. We never assumed things would be.
Right now, I have no expectations. I have his affection, and his time, and now, I believe, his heart is exclusively mine. There isn’t a need for expectations.
Wrapped up by Jolynn at
6:55 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home