“Guess what? I’m going to Boston this weekend.”
What was I doing? I just could not stop talking.
“I haven’t had wine in a long time. Wait. That’s not true, I had mimosas yesterday. But that doesn’t really count because it’s champagne.”
But I could not talk about what I was supposed to be talking about.
He must be so confused. After all, I’d sent a Rather Dramatic Email. It said I needed to talk to him, but it wasn’t urgent or scary. Which, I’m sure the poor guy knows, in girl-speak could mean any number of things. And I’d mentioned that I was only sending the email to make me talk about things I could never talk about when I was with him, because I liked being with him and never wanted to ruin that.
We started talking about moving and his new place.
The email had ended, “I promised myself I’d try to simplify my life this year, and I think that means being honest with myself and the people around me. So I’m trying.” He must be terribly annoyed or terribly frightened.
He finally brought it up, “You know we can always talk.”
I tried, but I just couldn’t say it.
“Just tell me. You don’t have to be articulate.”
“I know,” I said. “I don’t really know what I want to tell you.”
It was a lie. I didn’t know what outcome I wanted , but I had been outlining the conversation in my head all day.
And he must know everything already, right?