tumblinas.

What does he think?  I’ve been sitting here, with bated breath, anxiously waiting for his call?  As far as endings go, ours was not tragic.  There was no shouting and no tears. It was anti-climatic. You drove me to the airport.  We hugged and kissed goodbye.  As I walked toward the sliding automatic doors, I willed myself not to turn around and steal one last glance.  Me being me, and my will that of  al dente pasta, I turned around.  What did I see?  You looking at me, your eyes were wet. 

I cried in the airplane bathroom. I’d worried that I was being too sentamental.  That I’d built this up to be more than what it was.  I don’t know who long distance relationships work for.  Days turned into weeks going by with me wondering if I should call or why you hadn’t called, I surrendered to the idea that we’d just had a fling.  You found me on Facebook and I’d thought maybe it was fate or something.  Here we are years after we first met, single and no children.  You’d just moved to Miami and I was going for one of my girlfriend’s birthday. 

I was wrong.  It was what it was.

Imagine my surprise when you called.  And then I see you, a year later and you’re hugging me so tight and saying all these things.

And  I don’t feel anything.  I have someone else in my life. 

But, you invade my thoughts.  Not you exactly, more like a montage of what ifs.  I’d be a complete fuck head if I risked what I have now.  For what?  Opaqueness?  I realized the other day, that I don’t know anything about your life now.  You answer questions without answering questions.  I like the crossword in the Times as well as anyone, but this shouldn’t be like that. 

So, why’d you call me?