Flight or fight – what if you don’t want to do either? Then do neither. Doing nothing is favorable to some. Not me, but some.
She asked for more, she needed more, because his partner felt invisible, absent, alone, abandoned. Instead of fighting to keep her, instead of showing up, often and consistently, he ran. First to the couch, days turning to months, the months to years, not missing not running, just there. Content. Her? Not so much. She asked again and again, please do something, anything, save us.
So he made her a sandwich, talking on a conference call, walking into her office, her allocated place in space, and setting it down on her desk, and walking back to his space. Like feeding a dog.
Exactly like feeding a dog.
But she didn’t wag her tail in gratitude, all those years ago. She wanted more: a scratch behind the ears, a walk in the park, a cozy night by the fire, a little leg humping. But she got a sandwich, and recognizing this is all he had to give, she also got an apartment, for a short time, or so she hoped, prayed really, in the dark of night, to wake up to missed calls and texts and not the nightmare of the Optimum cable guy coming back in the dark of night, to help “set up her modem.”
“I’m scared,” she told the sandwich maker. “I’m so scared and alone.”
“Come home,” he said, but she, “and then what? I can’t be alone with you, it’s too lonely. It’s killing me. I’d rather be alone alone, and just maybe you’ll miss me. Fight for me, for us.” She begged. It was pathetic.
Fight or flight wasn’t on her agenda; hers was wait and see. He’ll come around. He won’t throw it all away.
Would he?
But run he did, to Florida, a new job, new apartment, new life. And didn’t call home or come home despite begging pleading, belittling, and harassing. Not after hurricanes and power outages and shutdowns and covid and trees down and surgery. All these lonely years later, he tells her he did everything he could.
And one of the last times they spoke, he even goes so far to say:
“What did you expect was going to happen? Nothing ever was good enough for you. You never even thanked me for the sandwich.”
# # #
[NWYC writing prompt 2020: write about a time you/someone ran, or it didn’t run]
I am in Olympia Wa right now and thought of you for the first time since the last time which was some time ago. Truly, my son’s girlfriend was referencing a show she used to watch growing up and I have an association with you and that particular actress, (or character,) six half dozen thing, yah? You apparently zipped through my constantly distracted by visual surroundings brain, as if roller skating and waving charm and pleasantness due to your smile.
I’m now down the driveway in a vintage airstream where son’s landlord lets us stay, I check the email trying to forever block Kohl’s and Laura Geller bullshit makeup adds from ever showing up in my face again and there you appear, Magical Kate x 3 from forever ago! I need to finish your tempting triptych so I’ll quick say “thanks for the visit” as well as “your words to my easily distracted ears are so welcome that I wish to wear an ornamental pineapple of some sort.
You Rock Kathryn Mayer
With admiration,
Iris Miranda I mean Morton 😽
You and I may have been married to the same man.. One of the many therapists I went to while still married to Husband #1 said (about my then-husband), “Emily, sometimes still waters don’t run fucking deep.”
Glad you popped up in my mailbox today!
Great to be reading you again, Kate. So skilled as always.
Definitely feeling how brutal this is.
You’re moving and that is GOOD.
That therapist tho, WT(are we allowed to swear here?) Maybe that made you chuckle, my truck driving friend.
Your words are giving and so appreciated. I feel a new stance.
How awesome!
Huge love.
The coward ran. It was easy and he was lazy. Marriage takes work, time, effort— way more than a sandwich. You deserve so much more. xoxo