Things are getting better, I think

There’s been a few changes around here lately, the main reason being that a guy Hannah was seeing before Fred got into town—the violinist—came back from his tour last week. The violinist (let’s just call him Hayden) was, to say the least, not very happy to find out that another man has been hanging out with Hannah, even though the two of them aren’t anything. But Hannah’s been putting off getting coffee with Hayden and has lost interest in him. One guess why.

            Lucy’s really been pushing Hannah to give Hayden a chance, probably in order to make getting Fred for herself easier and less awkward, but Hannah mumbles about how things have changed, she was just bored before, what they had wasn’t as strong as she’d thought. If Fred hadn’t come into town, though, I’m sure Hannah wouldn’t be saying this.

            But that hasn’t been the only difference around here. Last Friday, I had a big case I had to work on—like, hundreds of thousands of dollars at risk if I didn’t sort things through efficiently. I’m still working at home three days out of the week, and this was one of them. 

First, Hayden came over looking for Hannah, and I said she went to the grocery store with Lucy but would be back soon, so he decided to stay and wait. Then Fred came by too, looking for Hannah and Lucy. I told him the same thing and he decided to stay as well.

            A bit uncomfortable, but at least I could concentrate on the case while the two of them stared at each other awkwardly.

            Then Marie came. She insisted that I watch my nephew while she went to the grocery store to buy supplies for Thanksgiving. Even when I told her I had important work to do, she gasped and said, “More important than Little Charlie?” When I asked why she couldn’t just bring him she said that children are too difficult to deal with in public areas.

            Little Charlie was already getting into my pots and pans while Marie hurried out, so I had no choice but to watch him. I took the pots and pans away because it was making it too hard to talk on the phone with another one of the company’s attorneys, then he decided the only other thing good enough in the apartment to play with was me. He kept on climbing and my back and shouting “Pyop me! Pyop me!” which is two-year-old for “plop me,” meaning he wanted our game where I “plopped” him onto the couch. I had to work on this case, but Little Charlie was making it nearly impossible, even when I asked him to stop.

            Hayden just sat at a kitchen stool watching me struggle. But after a few minutes of this, Fred walked over from where he was in the front part of the room and removed Little Charlie from my back, and played with him while I finished up my phone call and worked more on the case.

            Nothing else happened, really. Hannah and Lucy got back, Hayden left after enduring ten minutes of being ignored, and Marie picked up Little Charlie. Fred didn’t say a word to me—he still hardly looks at me—but this has to be something, right? After all, Hayden didn’t even do anything, and we don’t have an awkward history or anything. Fred didn’t need to help me, but he did. I’m not crazy enough to suggest that he’s feeling anything that he felt eight years ago, but maybe he’s not as mad at me? Maybe we’re on the right track to becoming...not friends, but maybe not as awkward as it has been. 

            Though maybe he was just sick of hearing Little Charlie scream. That’s probably the more likely answer. Still, it’s not like anything is getting worse.

            Well, I probably won’t see Fred for a while, anyway. He and Carrie and Adam left for Thanksgiving at their brothers’ house and won’t be back until Sunday. Which reminds me, I’m planning on not posting Wednesday, since pre-Thanksgiving preparations will keep me busy. Have a Happy Thanksgiving to all of you in the states, and I’ll see you in a week.

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Talking to Ruth

            Ruth was supposed to get back this week from her trip to Europe, but her daughter broke her leg, so rather than coming back home she’s going to stay with her daughter to help her out.

            I have missed Ruth the past few weeks, but I’m relieved that she isn’t coming back right now. I think she might have blown the agreement between Fred and I to pretend nothing happened between us. She called me yesterday from her daughter’s house to catch up with what had happened, since time differences and schedules kept us from talking much while she was in Europe.

            You all have been so wonderful about reading my blog and responding to my problems, but at that moment, I was tired of keeping it all inside of me. I started to tell Ruth about the fact Fred had come back into town, but she interrupted me and immediately began to rant against him. How dare he show up again? Didn’t he know he almost ruined my life, if she hadn’t come in and straightened everything again? He was so selfish back then, trying to get to my money, and now he still showed that selfishness in coming back to gloat about his own wealth. What a social-climbing, manipulative, lazy jerk.

            Ruth then began to lecture me about how I should avoid him at all costs, no matter what. I managed to tell her we’d decided to pretend as if we had never dated, to make things less awkward with our social circle, so would she please not say anything to anyone else about it? Ruth huffed but agreed, and I trust she’ll keep that.

            We hung up and I was no more satisfied than before we talked. That’s always been the thing about Ruth, she believes she knows what’s best for me, and so rather than hearing my problem out, she hears a fraction and then lectures me on what I should do. I love Ruth and know she has my best interests at heart, but how can she know what I need before I tell her how something is making me feel?

            It’s times like this I miss my mom a lot. She always listened to me all the way through, then asked me what I thought I should do. When I would tell her what I thought, she’d either give me that proud smile, or she’d ask questions that prompted me to discover the better answer. Or, when it was something that hurt and couldn’t be fixed, she’d just hug me and hum a song, and I felt safe and loved. And that’s all I really needed. Still all I need now, but here I am with no one to really listen.

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Fools Rush In

            Well, it seems I’ve gotten out of being a designated driver all the time. I wrote about that on my tumblr here, if you care to read it. But I have to focus on something else right now.

On Saturday, Charlie’s parents invited us over for lunch, since Hannah can’t really make dinners with her performance schedule. They had over their children, of course, Marie, me, and then Adam, Carrie, and Fred. But unfortunately, I didn’t have an excuse to get out of it like I did last time. It was easier in a group, at least, than when I’ve had to be the fourth wheel to my roommates and Fred (which is much worse than being a third wheel, believe me). I could distance myself by playing with my nephew outside while they got lunch ready, and didn’t need to worry as much about the complications of being with the adults.

            But when it came to the sit-down part of the afternoon, I couldn’t help but be overcome with sadness, though not the usual kind I’d been feeling lately. It was just…watching Charlie and his parents and Marie talk to Fred and get to know him more, I realized I’d never get that same opportunity. I know Fred from eight years ago, but I’ll never know him as he is now, at least not to the extent everyone else can. We’re far worse than being strangers, because strangers have the opportunity to get to know each other, become friends, perhaps something more. But we don’t have that opportunity. What we are is far worse. We are perpetually estranged.

            I had to get out all of these feelings, and so after the meal, I played their piano. I only have room for a keyboard in my apartment, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to put my fingers on real keys, especially since I feel strange about going over to my house like I used to, before Adam and Carrie moved in, to play on my mom’s baby grand. I played some of my favorites—Sara Bareilles, Regina Spektor, Missy Higgins—and let myself get lost in the music and even found myself singing, which I usually only do in private.

            I was so involved in the music that I didn’t even notice anyone had joined me until the clapping began, right after I’d finished playing and singing Sara Bareilles’s “BreatheAgain.” Sometime during that song, the group had moved from the living room and into the front room with the piano to hear me play. Adam and Carrie were right behind me, with everyone scattered down the room until there was Fred, lurking in the back, looking very unhappy to be there, but had no choice as everyone else had decided to join me.

            Adam and Carrie complemented me on my playing and said they would love it if I came to play on the piano at my house for them. I blushed a lot and stammered out that I didn’t know anyone was listening to me, and apologized for my mediocre voice.

            But my embarrassment wasn’t just that I don’t like people to hear me sing. It was that having them listen like that had felt like my whole soul had been on display, even if they weren’t aware of it. But Fred would understand that what I’d played wasn’t just a song I liked. He knows how I relate songs back to my own life, and that song bore everything of who I am right now. He’d be able to connect the pieces together, if he tried.   

            When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, they insisted on having me play something else. That’s when Charlie’s dad told me to go back to the classics, something for the old people in the room. I said I didn’t know anything that old, but Charlie said, “Yes you do, Anne. You always play that Elvis song—the one about fools falling in love.”

            Everyone but Fred and I were enthusiastic about that request. I tried to say I didn’t remember how to play it, but Lucy said she remembered me playing it just a few days ago. I had no choice, really, but to perform. I planned on just playing the piano, but then Charlie’s dad shouted, “Come on, sing!”

            So the words came out of me.

            Wise men say only fools rush in

            But I can’t help falling in love with you

            Shall I stay

            Would it be a sin?

            If I can’t help falling in love with you

            That’s when Fred left, using the bathroom as an excuse to escape our song. Yes, about nine years ago, two months after we started dating, Elvis Presley’s voice crooned from our radio in the car. Fred smiled at me and said, “I think he wrote this song for us.” I smiled back and asked, “Oh yeah, how so?” He said, “Come on, isn’t it obvious? Everyone says that it’s too soon to know, but I do. I love you, Annie, and I can’t help it.”

            I felt like I was soaring, because for weeks I’d felt the same way, but had been too nervous to go too fast. With the ice broken, it was so easy for me to say, “I love you, too.”

            And now this song is nothing but pain. We were fools, rushing into things, getting each other hurt. It’s not nearly as beautiful as Elvis made it out to be.

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I gave up, but I have my reasons

            Hannah’s been mentioning trying to set me up with an old friend of hers, but I had to decline. The truth is, although I’ll go on dates when on the rare occasion I’m asked, I gave up a few years ago on trying to fall in love again. I know I won’t ever get married. It’s simply impossible for me.

            And I know what you might be thinking, because Ruth has told me something similar before. “You’re so pretty and smart and kind, any man would love to be with you! Don’t give up yet!”

            But see, this is what it comes down to: I’ve had the real thing before, and I don’t think I can duplicate it. To give anything less would be cheating my partner.

            I didn’t do much dating my three years in law school. I was still shattered from losing Fred and my mom’s death came down on me all over again, and the depression that hit me during that period of my life didn’t exactly make me the most attractive person. But then I moved back home and started working for my dad. Charlie (yes, my brother-in-law, but this was before all of that, though, obviously) was finishing his residency as a med student and lived nearby me. He’s two years older, so during high school he didn’t look at me much. But something happened, and he asked me out, and I started to date him.

            Charlie is a great guy. He’s smart and unbelievably patient. He listened to me and would go to see a chick flick with me and brought me flowers. I do love Charlie, but not like I should love a boyfriend.

            Still, I was lonely. I hadn’t gotten over Fred, and for some reason I thought that by being with Charlie I might force myself to get over him by being with someone else. And I thought, if I didn’t learn to love Charlie, who would I ever love? Back then, the thought of being alone for the rest of my life scared me.

            After dating four months, Charlie told me he loved me. That’s what kicked me in the gut, because I knew I didn’t love Charlie like he loved me. Despite everything, I loved Fred more, even after three years apart. It wasn’t fair to Charlie, to be the runner up in my affections. And what would I do if somehow Fred and I reconnected? (this is when I let myself dream about that sort of a thing)

            I broke up with Charlie. A few months later, Marie quit her job and moved back home while she looked for a new one, but she found Charlie instead. She went after him, they dated, got engaged, and married and well, here we are. It’s strange having a brother-in-law who is also my ex-boyfriend, but it’s never been even a fraction of the discomfort of having Fred in town.

            Anyway, after Charlie, I sort of gave up on dating. Because I can’t imagine loving anyone more than I loved Fred eight years ago. To be in a relationship where I couldn’t love my partner to my full capacity would end in unhappiness, for both of us. And it wouldn’t be fair for either of us to be in a relationship like that. I couldn’t do that to anyone so I could feel a little less lonely.

            So yes, perhaps I could dupe someone into being with me, loving me even. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow that to happen.

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Did I catch cooties or something?

Hannah and Lucy have become really good friends with Fred. Nothing romantic has happened yet, but a lot of times the three of them go for a walk on the beach, or out to dinner, or over to my/Adam and Carrie’s house. Usually the three of them like to go places, but on Sunday they came to our apartment to hang out or something. Since I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it, I decided to go to Marie’s place.

            She answered the door and asked what I was doing there. I said I thought I could play with Little Charlie, maybe take him to the park or something. She got really defensive and said that she was his mother and if he wanted to play or go to the park she could handle it. It seems to me that she hadn’t been “handling it” very well ever since she became pregnant, and she hadn’t played with him since he began walking anyway, always relying on me or Charlie or her mother-in-law to do it for her.

            I didn’t say any of that because I knew it would backfire on Marie, so instead I asked if I could go with them. Even if it meant putting up with Marie’s craziness, it was better than watching Hannah and Lucy compete for Fred’s attention, and his accepting their flirtations. But Marie said she felt tired from the baby and didn’t want to go. So I asked again if I could take Little Charlie out to play.

            She decided against it.

            I really don’t understand my sister at all. Why did she run that in circles? I’ve taken Little Charlie out during my lunch break to the park almost every day the last month so that Marie could get a nap in and he could play outside. She trusted me then, so what changed about it now?

            She acted strange before her pregnancy, you know, convinced that she found a lump in her breast when it wasn’t anything, or forcing us to go get Italian rather than Indian food despite the fact everyone else wanted Indian. But this is just getting worse, and I’m worried about my nephew. She hasn’t been solely feeding him M&Ms anymore, but what is staying inside and watching TV almost all day doing to him? I don’t care if it’s Baby Einstein, he needs interaction with people and some fresh air.

            Well, at least Charlie was home that day. Hopefully Marie let him take Little Charlie out to play.

            With that plan failed, I got some coffee and walked along the beach for a bit. The water always helps sooth me, as well as the caffeine. And thankfully when I got back, the apartment was empty.

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