I Think I May Have Dodged a Bullet
As I write this, I don’t know if this is a happy or a sad story. I suppose that’s what they call spin.
Let’s see what conclusion I (and then you) come to at the end of this story — which I shall write in several parts.
I met someone several years ago and we hit it off right away. We hit it off in all the right places — mentally, physically and in our philosophies. He wanted a partner, as did I. He was ambitious, as was I. He was funny, loved to eat, was free with his love and compliments. All good things. He even told my mother the first time he met her that he was going to marry me in a year. My mother rolled her eyes … well, an eye roll that no one else can see but me.
But he meant it and I believed him.
We spent several months in bliss — every thing was just the way it should be.
He was sweet and kind. One night I woke him up in the middle of the night saying, “My arms hurt.”
He took my arms and pressed them into his chest.
“Wait a few minutes, I’m going to take all your pain and you’ll be fine.” (I know I know — corny but cute — and it did the trick).
One morning I was with him when he got a call from his brother that their father had passed. It was sad news but his father had been very sick for a very long time — so it was ultimately a relief for the family. We spent the morning together — me consoling him; him calling his family who told him that he needn’t fly home. That he should just stay put and come home at a later time.
We resumed our lives and one day about 3 weeks after his father’s death, he called me from the airport.
“I am at the airport. Mom had a stroke. I have to go.”
“Of course you do. You take care and call me when you get there,” I said, choking back tears but appearing strong. I’m not sure if it was a premonition or I was just sad that he was going away and that he may lose his other parent too.
I heard from him when he got to his mother and he told me that she was very frail and would need a lot of care.
I was glad he was able to be with her. We would talk every couple of days — the wifi in the hospital was less than ideal. Soon the calls and texts every couple of days turned into calls and texts once a week; and eventually less than that.
While I wasn’t thrilled with these turn of events — I did understand.
I tried to go on with my life — living and working — just hoping that his mom would get better soon and that he would return.
After about a month or two I stopped hearing from him. Actually right before that happened he told me that the conventional doctors at the hospital told him that they could no longer help his mom and so he was going to take her to a small town for Ayurvedic treatment. Once again I told him to do what he had to do but to make sure and keep in touch.
Well, that didn’t happen. Months passed. Nothing.
I tried the phone number I had and one day someone picked up who claimed to be the servant of the house and told me that he had given his phone to him and that he had a new phone.
Hmmmm. So he did have a phone. Of course he did. Who doesn’t have a phone!
I tried my best to relay the message of who I was and that if he could have him call me as soon as he can.
Four months went by.
One morning I woke up and walked into the kitchen where my mother was making coffee, crying.
“Has she died,” my mother asked.
“No,” I said and started laughing.
I wasn’t being callous — but it was just such a ‘mom response,’ that her daughter was in pain and the only thing that would stop it is if he came back.
Four months and no news…I had no choice but to move on.
And so I moved on.
Now you get to wait for Part Two
Until I date again!