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One More Indian in Dallas.

May 30, 2014

“I’m outside in my car.” he texted.

I was hoping he would come over. I hadn’t seen him in over a week. He didn’t respond to my not so subtle booty call and I was getting tired so I changed, took off my make-up and got into bed. With his usual spontaneity he drove over after arranging for someone else to bring his friends home from the bar they were in. “I gotta go,” was what they got.

I stood in the doorway and looked down at him in his car. He was looking at his phone. My phone rang in the other room. I ran and grabbed it and answered it. “Why didn’t you reply,” he asked. “Because I’m standing in the door way.”

Seconds later and we were in each other’s arms, kissing inside the entrance. “I missed you.” I said.

After sex, he turned the light on and said, “I have something to tell you. I’m moving to Dallas for good on Wednesday.”

Well, shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” was Liz’s response. A valid one, given his earlier pledge to leave by February 10. How many times have I written that Z and I were over. This might be the third end-of-Z blog. Not this time. He’s really in Dallas now. He’s gone.

I wished for exactly this ending. I knew it was coming, one way or another. I also knew it would hurt. My heart is not broken but definitely cracked. I had really become accustomed to having him around. He cooked okra for me, the last night. I gave him a tie I had bought for him months ago. We watched Jon Stewart’s India election coverage and laughed. We made love for the last time. There was so much I wanted to say to him. I wanted to tell him what he had been to me. When it came down to it, I couldn’t find the words. When I thought about it, I started tearing up, so I kept it inside and just looked at him for as long as I could. God, those eyes. In the morning, I stared at him sprawled out in my bed. I loveed to look at him in my bed. I took a picture.

When it was time to say goodbye, I cried in his shoulder.

“It’s going to be ok,” he said.

“I know,” I said.

“I love you,” I confessed. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” he replied.

We held each other a while, then let go. We said goodbye and he drove away.

That was that.

We still talk. Maybe we’ll even still be friends. He’ll tell me he’s getting married one day. I’ll be happy for him. For now, I’ll wallow in my sweet sadness. It is a sweet kind of sadness. No anger or bitterness. No major break-up decisions. No negative feelings. Just, an ending. I get to miss him with nothing but love. That’s kind of nice.



From → Rantings

One Comment
  1. Been there. It’s so bittersweet.

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