My DC Trip and a Surprising Event

I think our week’s foray into the Smithsonian Forest was one of the very best vacations we have ever been on. Not only did we get boatloads of exercise, but we hit so many things that it was only last night when I was sorting pics that I realized how  much we accomplished. We hit several Smithsonian museums – The Castle, Natural History,  Air & Space, National Indian, NPG/National Art, Library of Congress, National History, et al – as well as the Mall, Capitol Hill, the Lincoln Memorial and Mt. Vernon.  When in Baltimore, we hit Ft. McHenry (which is REALLY well done and enjoyable) and would have done more had not a rather nasty rainstorm moved in.

As is our habit, DH and I on at least one day of longer trips such as this split and do our own thing. On Saturday he went and did the Library of Congress by himself and went and saw a movie. I sat at Starbucks right there across our hotel, journaled, and generally was lazy (well, dammit, my feet hurt!)

Up until 5:30p on Friday night, I didn’t think that a certain event would happen. Communications via text and FB with this person essentially boiled down to “I don’t know,” which is not encouraging. So I kept telling myself If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen, and there’s nothing I could do about it. And I was prepared to deal with my trace of unsurprising disappointment up until my phone rang in the hotel lobby at 5:30 on Friday night.

 ~~

For the backstory of this next installment of this sordid story, you need to read this Confession Session. You’ll have to read this to follow the next chapter in this story. Do that first, or nothing that follows this paragraph will make sense.

 Go on, I’m not going anywhere.

~~

Last Fall, I was talking to “Ryan,” Joe’s son, on FB. I have a friendship with him separate from his father’s – sort of an cyber-aunt, internet counselor deal. He sought me out, knowing that his father doesn’t relate well to people in general, so I responded. It has since become a pretty decent friendship.  Ryan had friended me in FB late last year, so there I was, commenting on his wall, ribbing him as I always do, going back and forth. Joe had posted his own jab in the foray, and I responded only to Ryan’s stuff on purpose. I didn’t want to get entangled again. I did, however, at the end of my last response say, “Hi Joe.” Why be a bitch?

I’m certain that it was less than fifteen seconds (yes, seconds, and certainly no more than thirty) when a friend request popped up on my screen. I stared at that sucker for the longest time. A war – not a battle, a war – was raging in my head. Do I? Don’t I? Is it worth it? Am I setting myself up for yet another stupid fall if I click “Accept”? Questions upon questions piled on potential scenarios. My brain was very crowded and there was smoke coming out of my ears. And the bottom line was, I realized, that if I chose to click “Accept,” I needed to have no expectations. None whatsoever.

 I clicked to accept.

In the months that followed, to condense the story, it’s been steady. Impersonal, cautious, congenial at times, but steady. If Joe slipped and did or said something stupid, he made sure he smoothed it over and ensured that I wasn’t supremely pissed; he has to sense my last thread of patience beneath the surface. I think he realized that he wants me back in his life and, to be honest, this sort of effort to maintain equilibrium is rare for him. In other words, I mean that much to him to make the effort. He’s notoriously remorseless in the sense that he’ll hurt someone and not give a damn and have no qualms about it, ever. Since “The Friending,” he’s been careful to avoid the past, staying quietly in the middle of the road, maintaining that even keel.

When DH and I decided on DC on a destination to burn his use-or-lose vacation hours, the first thing that popped in my mind after SMITHSONIAN!! WOOHOO!!  The second thing was Joe? but that it’d be a chance in hell that he’d want to see me. I did the only thing I could do. I tossed it out there to see if I would get a bite. I only got halfhearted nibbles. I left it alone generally, quietly pushing the occasional conversational gambit forward only to get “I don’t know” in reply. By the time the week before our departure came up, I essentially dropped it.

No point in pushing it.

~~

A few days before we flew over, Joe and I had been chatting in FB. At one point, needing to know something, I said, “Listen, if you have a headache, or if you’re not comfortable with this and don’t want to, just say so. Honestly, it’s ok.” I needed a yes, I needed a no. Something so I could either plan for it, or forget about it and do other things.

No response, other than to change the subject.

 “Did you see what I wrote above?” I persisted, about twenty minutes and five topics later.

“I’m ignoring it,” he typed. I let it drop. It meant that he was probably garnering courage to do it, or completely chickening out without saying a word. I assumed, true to my cynicism, that it was the latter.

If it happens, it happens, I muttered to myself; if not, oh well. There’s nothing I can do about it anyway. Let it be.

~~

We flew in two Wednesdays ago. Between Wednesday and Friday I ascertained in further text messages that I’d be coming alone, which would be on DH’s and my split day; I was glad – because until there’s peace between us, how can i bring someone else in the mix? Joe didn’t seem to care either way, but his voice changed ever so slightly. and I took that as a good sign. On Friday, after an exhausting walk around DC, DH and I were in the hotel bar enjoying their decent Happy Hour offerings (including my first taste of Yuengling beer – not bad). Joe and I had been exchanged bursts of texts now and again. Earlier in the day, I finally texted him once we were out of the Metro tunnels, wondering if it would be better if I went to a particular station for him to pick me up rather than him drive an hour and a half from where he lives. “Funny,” he replied via text after some time, “I was thinking that too.”

We went back and forth, and after DH and I had settled ourselves with poisons of choice, I texted, “Now that I’m enjoying a glass of Yuengling…”

He didn’t reply. Shit.

About four minutes later, my phone rang. It was Joe. And he pinned them down, time and place. When I hung up, I was still surprised. DH was on the phone with his boss back home, and I muttered to myself, “It’s a miracle. It’s a miracle.” Certainly, with all that had gone before, I never expected for us to actually meet. I spent the rest of the evening in disbelief and not a little shock, with a part of me continuing to be healthily cynical: I’ll believe it when it actually happens.

~~

I have to say, with over a week’s hindsight, that it was a success. He picked me up at the agreed station,  although he was mentally a thousand miles away – his usual protective mien. We had a really nice dinner. Conversation was light and interesting, but nothing too personal.  I pretended not to see his mask slip once or twice I saw the way his face changed, raw emotion lurking in his eyes.  I had to pretend I didn’t see it. My peripheral vision caught it, though, and I haven’t been able to shake the mental image.

Joe was distant at the beginning and at the end. Two years ago, even a year ago, I would have taken it personally. Now I understand that’s just how he is, how he protects himself. He was mentally a zillion miles away when he dropped me back at the station – but something inside me wouldn’t allow that to be the way we parted. When I thanked him for dinner, I leaned over, put my head on his shoulder, and gave him a half-assed hug. 

For a split second, he came back to the moment; his right hand came up and ever so briefly rested on my head and, for an even shorter moment, he pulled my head tight toward him. He didn’t dare do more. Yeah, he’s still in there somewhere, terrified of fucking it all up, terrified of coming too close. It was enough – by God, it has to be enough. It is enough to lay much of our tempestuous past to rest, to be able to move on past that living hell.

I never did get a proper hug out of him, though.

~~

While I was in the DC area afterward, he texted right and left, and chatted me up freely on FB when I had a chance to get on. Once I was back home, back across the country, not only did that stop, but he started hiding on FB, too. We’ve chatted only once since I’ve been back.

 Damn.

I figure: what the hell. I never – not in a thousand lifetimes – expected to see his face, nor the lovely shade of the color of his eyes, not even when it was hot and heavy. Of all people, I understand his actions. I know him like the back of my own hand, still, as I have lived under his skin; I know what he thinks and why, and what he’ll do and the motives behind his actions. When he does something, I sense the catalyst behind it. So yeah, I understand. I know. I don’t have to like it though. It means that somewhere along the line, he regressed to that dreamland, and now he’s distancing himself from me, catching himself,  because of it. 

Oh well. I’ll take the lovely evening for the rare gift it was.