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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First Week of Fred (2/2)

I had a few days to recover from that last encounter with Fred. Hannah’s show started on Friday, so I thought maybe things might be more relaxed with our weekend schedules, considering she performs until 10 at night. But Hannah’s show had an after-party, which Lucy and I went to, along with Fred.

            Hannah and Lucy’s parents joined us for the performance, but left shortly after congratulating their daughter, leaving me with my ex and the two women pursuing him. I wanted to get out of it and go along with the parents, but the after-party had alcohol, and they’ve become dependent on my role as designated driver, and begged me not to go. Fred sort of sulked in the background as my roommates tugged on my arms and said that they just couldn’t do it without me, that the party wouldn’t be the same if I weren’t there. I felt like I had to stay, after being their go-to designated driver.

            While Hannah and Lucy took turns flirting with Fred, dancing with him, taking shots, and enjoying themselves, I stayed huddled in the corner next to a rack of costumes, watching them. Lucy with a hand to his chest. Hannah brushing confetti out of his hair. His laughter at their jokes. I just watched the clock, wishing it would go backward instead of forward, but if it wouldn’t do that, if I couldn’t become twenty-two again, then would it just speed up?

            Yes, I was driven to the point where I was pleading for an inanimate object to do the impossible.

            After a few hours and with three totally drunk people in my car, I began the drive back to our sleepy town. I tried my best to ignore them even as they bust out in an off-key rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing.” Then Hannah brought up a woman at the party who had been flirting with Fred, and she asked what he thought of her. He said he couldn’t remember her. Then Lucy spoke up and asked what would make a girl memorable to him.

            “Don’t know,” Fred said, all slurred. “I’m not hard to win over, really, long as she has a pretty smile. But the one thing I can’t stand is a woman who changes her mind. She should know what she wants, and go after it. You know? I don’t want somebody who will listen to anybody and change her mind.”

            I don’t know if he was directing that comment at me, I don’t know if he remembered I was still there since I practically disappeared at the party and he was drunk. But he said it because of me. And it punched me in the gut, then twisted my insides. It hurt worse than any amount of dancing with Hannah and Lucy possibly could. Because that’s the thing. I haven’t changed my mind. Not ever. I’ve always loved Fred. Sure, I broke off our wedding, but that was because I loved him. And it kills me that he still can’t see I did it for him. He doesn’t have to forgive me, or even like me. But I hate that he can’t see me, and instead sees a weak-willed silly girl, who only does what others tell her to do. Yes, I listened to Ruth. And yes, I did follow my father into his business, giving up my dream job. But I made those decisions for myself. To save Fred. To save my family. 

            But he just can’t see that. He only sees what he hates.  

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The First Week of Fred (1/2)

Last week was eventful. It didn’t end with seeing Fred for the first time. I had two more Fred encounters, and so this week, I’m going to talk about them. Oh, but first, you might want to check out my tumblr post on what Fred said about me to Hannah and Lucy after our first meeting.

            Now, the next thing that happened was the next day, in the morning, when I was working (so, for chronology’s sake, this was before Hannah told me what he’d said about me). If you’ve been keeping up with the blog, then you know that three days out of the week I’ve been working at home to help out Mary. Around eleven in the morning on Wednesday, there was a knock on the door, which was unusual. When I answered it, Fred stood there in front of me. It took me a minute to process the fact that he was there, and looking very intense. It went down like this:

Me: Hannah and Lucy aren’t here.

Fred: I know. I just think we need to talk.

Me: Okay, do you want to come in?

He came in and after I shut the door, we just stood there in awkward silence for a little bit.

Me: Do you want coffee or anything?

Fred: No, this will be brief.

Me: Okay, what is it?

Now, part of me expected him to yell at me for what I did, to demand closure or something. And maybe part of me hoped he’d kiss me. But he surprised me.

Fred: Who knows about…you know…us? From before?

Me: You mean that you’re my college’s acquaintance’s brother?

Fred: No, you know what I mean.

Me: No one, at least no one here. My dad, older sister, and godmother aren’t in town. Marie only knew your name and she doesn’t remember that about me, anyway. And I haven’t told anyone else about before.

Fred: I haven’t either. I mean, my brother knows, but I never told Adam and Carrie.

He never looked me in the eyes, and I didn’t know what he wanted or why he came to talk to me, so we had another moment of uneasy silence.

Fred: Do you plan on telling anyone?

Me: No.

(I didn’t mention any of you, so shhh).

Fred: Good. I think we should keep it that way. It’s not important anymore and will just make things awkward for everyone else.

Me: Okay. Is there anything else?

Fred: No. That’s all I need you for. Bye, Anne.

Then he left.

I wish you could have seen this. I mean, yeah, I’m glad we talked about how we’re going to deal with being in the same social circle, but that was worse than the first time I saw him. I think he was worried I’d try to drive a wedge between him and Hannah or Lucy (I’m not sure who he’s into yet) and came by just to make sure I wouldn’t ruin his chances. I’d never do that. I want Hannah and Lucy to be happy, I want Fred to be happy. If one of them finds that they’re meant to be with my ex-fiancé, then so be it, no matter what it might do to me. I’m not here to stand in the way.

But how he was standing, how he talked to me, he’s still angry with me. He always had this habit of standing stiff when he got upset, and he never relaxed while talking to me.

But I think it hurt the most that he called me Anne. My internet personality is Annie, but everyone in my life calls me Anne. There have only been two people who called me Annie: my mom and Fred. I suppose when I was creating my blog, I wanted to feel like I could say what I would have to those I was close to, who called me Annie. So hearing Fred call me Anne, it hit me that he can’t see Annie, the girl he loved, anymore. I’m just Anne, the boring, pathetic roommate of his new friends.

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