The Last Desperate Act

by Kimberly M. Thompson

From "The Moment I Saw Love...The Series"

Part Two

Three and a half months of rekindling bliss. It was outstanding. To have that special person who you know oh so well to come back into your life with long term plans. This is that part of the vision youíve cultivated all this time and now its here. This is exactly how a relationship should flow. Not haphazardly but with intention. This is an unspoken love rippled like river water disturbed by the dropping of a pebble. It starts small then as each new ring develops it forces the ring before it to expand endlessly until itís no more. That is a very good analogy for our relationship. So letís just say we are at the last ring of our ripple in this unspoken love thing.

A week after a glorious vacation day there were stolen moments for conversation by phone. We could talk about anything, everything and nothing. But there was tension in the tones of our voices. We hadnít seen each other since that glorious take me away day. The weight from the lack of physical contact at this particular time was great. For some reason greater than normal. It seemed like an alarm had gone off and we both needed to extinguish each other. There were roadblocks scattered in our way. So we decided to make do with verbal comfort. But it was not quite as satisfying. After our telephone conversation I settled into my thoughts of a day of normalcy.

Sometime later, actually a short time later, I was posed with the question, ďWhat are you doing now and can I spend some time with you?Ē Now instinctively I know this is not a well thought out plan. I knew what both our schedules entailed. There was no dependable transportation and a short window of opportunity. Everything breaking down at the same time. Is that a sign or what? But we became a runaway train and we were revving at the station. All he needed was the green light. And I was the signal. And throwing caution to the wind I changed my light from yellow to green. The train now shoots out of the station on a high speed line to me. Now should I be thinking of what I shouldnít be doing? Canít. Itís all about us right now. The outside world has ceased to exist and the sanctuary doors are about to be opened.

Once he gets here the tension faded in our tones and in our minds. My loungewear signifies a soft place to land. There was a little presentation that I wanted to do on our vacation day but I forgot. Or should I say I was diverted into other directions. I wanted to give this written gift in hopes that I captured the degree of gratitude I felt for the effort made to please me that day. And it seemed even more fitting to present it on this desperate day because he definitely ran the risk of disturbances elsewhere coming to see me like he did. In those last few hours we spent together beyond the urgency of us, the emotions of us, and the peace of us there was a flip side to all this loveliness. There were three interruptions that could have been detrimental if either one of us wouldíve let it. Sometimes in your most intimate me space business or maybe even your other life intrudes. And for all intents and purposes we both divided ourselves like a funhouse mirror. One side trying to live the ecstasy called us and the other having to still deal with life right now. Even at this point I had to question our actions. All I asked was, ďBaby, what are we doing?Ē The loving, the needing, the wanting seemed to be extremely heightened. In hindsight, Iíve wondered, did we know something was too far gone? Had we taken too many chances? Had we compromised other lives? Were we compromising our own? How do you not get caught up in being caught up? My very last question was whether I had become a complication? The answer was skeptically satisfying. The answer may have been no but the actions were screaming yes. And maybe my question was an easy out not taken. Still we put all this aside to live and breathe each other for this short span of time. The desperation of departure was imminent. Scanning each otherís faces for traces of donít go. The practice of reading one anotherís features like Braille. Trying to remember. Why was this so important to do at this time? Did we know? Did ...we ...know? Then comes the good byes for now. Until the next time. He whispered ďPlease donít be mad at me.Ē, as we were standing there trying not to open the door. We were trying not to let the world back in. Knowing how he came to me without much thought about anything or anyone. And a limited amount of time to spend. He knew he had overextended his time and those interruptions did not make me happy. Even though it never stopped the flow of us, that whole day was a series of contradictions. As a matter of fact I consider the statement ďPlease donít be mad at meĒ his famous last words.

Late into the night I waited for an expected phone call that never came. By day four or five Iím in a panic and donít know which way to turn. There had been other disappearing acts during our times together. But this time the relationship was so different, so intense. The disconnection could not possibly go down like this. It just couldnít. My concern turns to worry. Worry turns to panic. My panic turns to anger. Then my anger turns to hurt. And in the midst of all this emotional fall out, I slowly learned everything on his end had changed drastically too. His daily schedule, his job, everything. It was like he had dropped off the face of the earth. Messages not picked up. Other people answering his other numbers I had. What the hell happened? Did everything blow up when he left my house? I may never know. Regardless of the outcome I finally made up in my mind to forgive and move on. I had to forgive him because being the kind of man he is I knew what he sacrificed to be with me. He had cut across all rules, his belief systems and changed his lifestyle to make room for me in his life. Most everything done during our time together came with the thought of how I would be involved. And the love was over the top. You know that kind of love that you can see the adoration in his eyes about you. This love exuded from his fingertips as he touched me. The softness in which he spoke to me, his verbal penetration sedated me with peace of mind and he said my presence gives him strength. He read my written word about our emotions and got choked up. Sometimes he said my words were unsettling because I scripted out emotions like a Kodak moment and immediately thrown back in time.

On that fourth week, I make one crazy last ditch effort to communicate. Lo and behold, I made contact. Even though I made the call I was shocked to hear his voice and he was just as shocked to hear mine. Thereís something strange, distant and cold in his voice. Not cold in a mean way but cold as in shutdown. I suspected he needed to act this way in order not to feel me. Another way people sometimes avoid feeling emotions. After walking on eggshells for a few minutes the bombshell was dropped. ďI canít be involved with you any more.Ē Initially I took the news fairly well considering. I saw the signs. I made myself believe this is what it is. ANYWAYÖ. After getting nowhere I said, ďHave a nice lifeĒ and hung up the phone. In moments the reality hit me... The sadness, the loneliness, the crying, the tantrums. And Iím angry at myself for falling into this trap of love. I knew better. Still loving the fact of being in love. It was awful. I felt that it was over earlier but now it was official.

Months have passed and Iíve moved on. Along this new journey life is hitting me hard. There are serious family and personal issues, job stresses, and on top of all of this my best male friend has just had a massive stroke. I am so devastated by this I feel like Iím about to fall apart. You never know when the last time you may talk to your friend or spend time. So make sure you stay mindful that tomorrow is not promised. If you need to do something for someone or tell someone how you feel about them or even how much you appreciate them please donít take for granted theyíll always be around. You see, my friend did survive but he was totally incapacitated the first three weeks trapped in a nonfunctioning body. Now heís making tiny steps of progress but at this point he cannot speak. I missed his strong booming voice. I miss my friend. Now I need comforting. Iím usually so strong for everyone else. There were people I could have contacted but there was only one person who could comfort me the way I needed to be comforted. While at work and sitting at my desk early one morning knowing I would probably get no response I text the man who meant so much to me yet tore my life apart. Donít ask me what I expected or not. It was a thoughtless, desperate act. Five minutes later my phone rings and itís him. He asked if it was me who text him and what was wrong as though we had just spoken yesterday. I proceed to tell him how full my plate is and it is now running over. All the while having my own mini meltdown. Heís listening and talking me down as Iím now crying big buckets of tears. Finally after purging all of that stuff I went back to work. Ten minutes later he literally comes to my rescue with another phone call. ďIím outside and if you can get away for a few minutes.....Ē Now remember I havenít seen this man in months. He disconnected from me for the sake of saving himself and here he is at my beck and call. But what was most important and amazing to me was that he knew when I contacted him and we talked I needed him immediately and desperately. I was broken and he came to me hell or high water. That told me that even beyond our circumstances Iíve still maintained that special place my place in his heart.

Weíve talked a couple of times after that. Nothing personal was spoken about. We are still a very touchy subject. But today in a New Yearís Day conversation it flowed so easily that when I asked will I ever be told what happened during those first three weeks the explanation started to unfold. For all the right reasons he feels as though heís done the right thing for everyone involved. Me, even though I may know heís right that doesnít mean I have to like it. Now he becomes comfortable enough and vulnerable enough to say what heís always wanted to say. Heís always loved me but this time he fell in love with me, completely. The problem was that he shouldnít have and couldnít have me the way in which he wanted and needed. And the times that we shared crossed all boundaries. We spared no expense to share our now and then together. All my questions that I deemed most important, weíre finally answered with words Iíd longed to hear. But never asked for. I was silent as the confession came forth. I did not want my voice, my words, my questions to break the flow of this absolute truth. So I take this confession and seal it with my heart. This confession was the foundation for our last desperate act. But it will always be food for my soul.


The Last Desperate Act by Kimberly M. Thompson

© Copyright 2007. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.



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