28 - i’m in love with him
It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm,
we can roll ourselves over 'cause we're uncomfortable
Oh well the devil makes us sin
But we like it when we're spinning,
Love is like a sin my love
For the ones that feel it the most…
—Massive Attack - Paradise Circus (Gui Boratto Remix)
~~~
“You’re fucking evil,” feeling relieved, saying it with a smile and clueless about what was to come. Gabriela walked up, delivering my final, high-octane brandy alexander and the artichokes. Camille ordered a double bloody mary and asked to see the menu. I had raved about the “sunset specials.”
~~~
I mused, “I’ve come so far along, not sure I know how to do this…,” and then the moment we all come to when we’re head over heels, to say it forthrightly, and the risk, how will it be received, how will it change things? Four brandy alexanders worth of courage, I continued, after a pause, after she smiled, a kind of sadness in it, she knew what was coming, “Nothing I’ve done has been typical, always outside looking in; am two years from 60 and I’m like a 25 year-old just out of college. Living in a “studio” and loving it, I’m an idler, always have been, and shit, spending time with you, infuckingcredible,…” She smiled again, that wry smile of hers.
"I love you…. There, I said it. Leave right now, no matter, it can’t erase what got me here. It's been worth it, knowing you, feeling you, touching you. Shit sister… I understand I’m not for everyone, that… “
"Stop."
Gabriela walked up with the bloody mary, “You want to order something?” Camille asked for the salmon. Gabriela turned to me, “You okay?” “Yep.”
~~~
“What’s going on? Where have you been?”
Her countenance changed, truth-telling never easy, and when you’re warm-hearted and kind, it’s even more difficult to share things that will be hurtful and unsettle the one before you.
“I was with Martin…”
She launched, brutally honest and ever so delicate. After the holidays she and Martin had more than one conversation over the phone. He missed her, made his case. They had been close friends as well as lovers. You don’t just walk away from it. How do you do that? He’s a fighter. She was always crazy upside down with him. At Christmas her Aunt Andrea weighed in, asked what she was doing, what was up with her? Andrea ever so attuned, said she needed to find out, needed to put it right in her mind.
The week after she and I had strolled the Cabrillo Monument path, after what seemed to me a moment of clear-eyed and giddy-inducing connection, a deepening moment of trust, and off the charts excitement and joy, she makes up her mind to see him, to remember, to find out. She met him at his shop. They end up in the bar next door, they have a few beers, and it’s as if the fire wasn’t quite out, and the remaining embers flame up, and one thing leads to another and she goes home with him. It was passionate, revealing, and in the after-glow, he asks her to marry him.
She paused; not sure I need to describe for you what she saw, the expression and body language, the pain, and it wasn’t jealousy, or rage, or any of the feelings we’ve been conditioned to feel in such a moment of honesty. In an instant, in the eyes, in the folds of flesh, in the cheeks and chin, in the lips now downturned, it was the thought of severance, a reverberating sensation of departure, a kind of death, so, so unbearable, that she’d be out of my life, out of touch, no kisses, no caresses, no playful grab-ass, no more gazing into those mesmerizing hazel eyes, and it’s as if you’re strolling along, holding hands, and then she abruptly, yet gently, lets go,… I got up and told her I’d be right back, that I had to go to the bathroom. “Max, wait!”
“Hold on,” I said, “I’ve been sitting and drinking, I need to go.”
~~~
In the bathroom looking in the mirror, “What the fuck! How is it that I’ve come to this? Is it now my charge to simply suffer, over and over, where pain begins to tip the scales, that joy, pleasure and the comforts of connection become distant memories, or unattainable dreams?” The Max of old counseled, “Just walk away, right now. Don’t go back to the table. Leave. Disappear. If she calls, texts, emails, it’s turnabout, don’t respond.” Of course the new Max intervened, “You can’t disappear. She’s at the Infusion Center, you go there every six weeks. She’s around. Every six weeks, you can manage that.”
Time to pay the piper, take your medicine. Fuck.
Back to the table I go. Now a countenance of indifference, a warrior’s stoicism, insouciant I am, “Sorry, I really needed to go. And listen, I get it, shit, I,… well,… you’re a magnificent,…”
“God!, will you stop?” She’s exasperated, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this.”
Her eyes go moist, the emotion that slowly rises but not quite to the surface, feeling suspended, hovering, and she continues, speaks of what she had with him, genuine and heartfelt, so much time together, she needed to be sure, and she admits it was horrible, to give herself over to the passion, then the proposal, so many tears, a sobbing, he had never seen her lose it like that, and he kind of freaked when she said no, and imagine it, she’s on the edge of the bed, naked, vulnerable, feeling not so kind or warm-hearted, and she wraps herself in the comforter, and Martin sits down next, and she puts her head in her hands, and softly, through her pain, says, “I’m in love with Max.”
Martin standing up, trying to distance himself, looking to find balance, not get pissed off, he’s reeling,…
“I’m in love with him and I have to give it a go.”
Tuesday, February 22, 2011 at 7:41AM 
Reader Comments (6)
WOW - that's all I can say. I was worried it is was going to be a different outcome but am so glad that Camille understands how wonderful Max really is.
L O frigging L... am doing the happy dance. :-)
Unbelievably good writing. I was there, at the table with Max and Camille.
YEA, YEA, YEA!!!!!!
Oh, oh, oh!!!!!!! :)
WKC... you crack me up. :-)