His
response was predictable. “You’re asking
the wrong question,” he calmly said. She
knew this would come up. It was a good
response because it meant he was engaged.
Navigating the language behind the words is an art that did not come easy
to her. She was a much more literal and loquacious person by nature, and words
played a large role in her life giving her an important source and sense of her self-worth.
His inferences were his crown although he was
surprisingly exact in his word offerings; that is, when he offered them. Always saying only what was necessary, no
matter how little, these disparities created gaping holes between their lines of communication.
He spoke through pictures in his mind
where she spoke through feelings in her heart.
He spoke slowly and carefully,
she was direct and unchecked. And again,
he wasn’t good under pressure and feelings were a great pressure to him. She always
rose to the top under stress and navigated emotions like an eagle on the wind.
We
always go for the safest place when we feel pressure. His safe place was in the dark and alone.
She was
careful to not respond to his statement too quickly. She already knew what he would say next.
Playing
the victim card would pull him in, and she did.
Even as she said she didn’t want to “be a victim here,” it worked and he
further explained she was assuming that in the past – at any time – he did not
want to make a life with her. He brilliantly opened the door to her next statement, “So it sounds like you are
implying you wanted to make a life with me.”
He responded that he had already said that. In fact, he had not. He had implied it.
She
didn’t like implications. She wanted, on
this night, unequivocal clarity that could not be misunderstood or twisted in
her own heart. She needed to hear the
words – to repeat them so that she could be released from the strained ardor
leftover from their relationship that ended because of a ghost in his past and in her future, had she stayed.
There
was nothing wrong with their relationship per se. What was wrong was the context. He had been married – and remained that way –
throughout their 8-year love affair. It
wasn’t that he was with his wife; not in a Biblical sense anyway. But he was never emotionally far from those
dreaded, cherished memories of his life as her only husband. As well, they still worked for the same company which
gave him easy access to his “stuff” and there was no getting around their daily
phone calls. After all, they bitched
about the boss they both had known for decades.
Misery loves company. Pop psychology calls it co-dependence.
But, back
to the phone call.
In a
lengthy volley , he detailed to her the level of anger and shock he
experienced when she had broken up with him, and how misunderstood and unseen
he felt, how she and he have different ways of understanding commitment, and
how he just grieved for three weeks afterward and then rolled up his sleeves to get
on with his own life. Then, he apologized
for what he had done to her. He didn’t
say it out loud. He didn’t say, “I am
sorry for staying married to C--- while you waited for me to get divorced.” He was never ever going to say that. But he said he was sorry for “what he had
done,” and then, he cried. She knew what he meant.
Crying
on the telephone has a different effect on the listener than crying in
person. It seems surreal and almost
movie-like. It’s as if a John Williams-esque
soundtrack is about to crescendo any moment and some great punch line will be
delivered to alleviate or punctuate the imposed silence inherent in such a helpless
exchange. What followed was neither a great
soundtrack nor a punch line. What
followed was an opening.
He
recounted more feelings, quite eloquently, and said he just needed to get on
with putting his life in order. He didn’t
want any love relationship while he was doing this. He needed to regain balance and integration in his outer
and inner life.
She
carefully reflected back to him the words he had just said. She wanted him to know that she had heard him
clearly and more so, she wanted him to feel understood. It was important to him. It was important for him to be understood and “seen;” acknowledged for his efforts
to express himself.
She had
heard enough now to put aside the strained ardor chiding her since the
day she walked away from him. After all, he had
been divorced now for the better part of nine months. In fact, the divorce became final almost
three months to the day after she had broken up with him.
She
wondered why he never told her he was getting a divorce. But really, it didn’t matter anymore. The possibility of putting themselves back
together wasn’t realistic. They had
moved on from the place where she was a scorned woman waiting for him and he
was a scorned man waiting for his wife.
Everything had changed. Unequivocably.
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