She was meeting me anyway, so that was a good sign, even after the cross phone calls over the weekend, which were my fault really. I got to the cinema and she wasn’t around so I ran in to use the bathroom, checking did I look ok while running the tap and looking in the mirror, also thinking that it could happen, with the summer coming along now and having the new job, we could do things together, not like we used o do when we were lovers, but as friends. It didn’t matter though; she was here, back, and if things went well on these little sorties, trips to the cinema etc, who knows?
I ordered two tickets for the show and walked back outside. Still no sign of her. We had plenty of time but I thought maybe she would like to grab a quick pint and a bite to eat. Then I spotted her coming down the road, unmistakable vibrant red hair, wearing the long black coat she always wore and a gym bag on her back, as well as her handbag back slung on one shoulder. Ah, she was still going to the gym, after two years since I used to go with her. That was good, good for her. I walked toward her smiling. Those eyes. Big brown eyes she had. And you’d fall deep if you looked too long. She barely responded and did not seem inclined to offer me a hug or a kiss on the cheeks as is her custom.
I knew there was something wrong. I got this sinking feeling that she was going to tell me something shortly.
We exchanged the usual pleasantries. I walked beside her uncomfortably, suggesting a place to go for a pint before the movie. She told me she had just eaten a sandwich. I wasn’t drinking, or hadn’t been drinking in awhile, so I ordered a beer for her and a blackcurrant for myself.
As she was putting her bags down, I said: “Listen, sorry for putting you under pressure there last week-end. I just probably got the wrong impression from the last time we met, when we had dinner. I had a good time then and you looked to be having a good time. I just probably got the wrong impression. Being friends, going out now and again, is perfect.”
“Look,” she said, dropping the bags noisily and meeting my eyes with all but concealed fury in them, a look I knew well, “look, you can’t be doing that to me. I was willing to maybe see you once in awhile as friends…but now, I don’t know…” I lifted my eyes momentarily to the barman approaching with the drinks.
“Do you want to talk now or after the film,” she asked me.
I paid the barman and waited until he walked away out of earshot.
“No, let’s talk now,” I said.
“Look, you can’t send me text messages like that!”
‘Like what?”
“Like…”oh, do you want to leave it all together” or…well, you know what I mean anyway. I have my own life now and I’m happy for the first time since we broke up. It‘s not going to work. I’m getting these anxious feelings again. And look, we have been arguing on the phone and we are arguing now. It won’t work. It isn’t working.”
“Yes but we had a good time when we went for dinner a few weeks ago didn’t we? We got along, had good conversations. It was like the old times—“
“No. It will never be. I don’t want to get back with you. And I can’t be your friend. There’s just too much repressions, too many bad things that keep coming up, it’s not possible.”
“Ah….come on don’t say that. To be honest, just being honest: “--I looked around the bar —“ I am lonely all the bloody time, and I’ve no one left to really talk with. I actually went to see a psychotherapist today, do you believe that? I’m on these tablets - Diazepam - for panic attacks. fu<k sake, this is the last thing I want to hear. I just wanted us to be friends again. Why is that so difficult? Throw me a bone, will ya?”
“Because you are not in control. You will make it difficult. I can’t go through all that again. I said that to you two years ago. You have impulsive-compulsive behavior problems. I was busy that week and told you next week maybe we could go out but you kept texting me and ringing me…it’s not right, you know it’s not.”
I looked down at the nice mosaic on the ground for awhile, feeling I could sink into that mosaic like it was maybe a warm bath.
“Do you still want to go the cinema, then?” I said.
“Well yes, you have bought the tickets.”
“Ok, we better go now.”
The film was terrible, and being on the tablets I felt drowsy and couldn’t keep my eyes open. Even if I wasn’t on the tablets I still probably would have fell asleep. We exchanged about two words. Then we walked together glumly in the cold and rain to the train station, the last mirthless camaraderie we’ll ever share, I thought. It was hopeless. Gone. Whatever we had was reduced to a bad feeling and we were best just letting it dribble down the gutter with the rain. And it was lashing, the rain was.
"Why, though, why can't we be friends?" I asked her finally, not wanting to pre-amble or equivocate.
"Because you're not really in control of yourself, your life," she said.
As she said this I thought of the time I held her back as she tried to jump out the window one evening. It was after an argument we had.
"But I'm trying."
My train approached just then and I turned to go, at a complete loss really to say anything. She had made her feelings clear, and that was it. As the train pulled away, I didn't even look at her. I felt something in me go out finally, like a light that had been on the fritz for the past while. That little ember that i had been kindling in my heart since meeting her for dinner a few weeks ago had been stamped out for good. There would be other fires though, not like that one maybe, but you have to believe all the same, otherwise what is there?
