(no subject)

[walbourn]

Driving down the Columbia River valley on the Washington side on the way to Summerstar, I'm struck by a memory as I often am. The last time I was down this river I was on the Oregon side, taking a trip to Multnomah Falls with my lover and friend at my side. I remember wondering about the Washington side as we drove down the highway, her hand resting on my leg reminding me of her close and warm presence.

A year and some months later I'm driving alone down the other side. That lover is out-of-reach and I don't even know if we can still be considered friends...

am I always thinking of the far side of the river? why do happy memories always flood over me when I'm sad... just to make me sadder?

...

Driving down the Columbia River valley on the Washington side, on my way home. I'm headed to Powel's Technical books in Portland first, as I don't make it down as often as I once did and enjoy browsing the store.

I have an urge to call her and see if she wants to do dinner. It has been over a year since I've seen her face-to-face, and while we parted with my broken heart in my hand, we didn't leave things on a totally sour note. Things sure got ugly via e-mail as she seemed to be strongly reacting to things that went way beyond any disappointment in me, and yet again I was left feeling 'replaced' by the next lover to come along. I guess it is only human to accept comfort where you can find it, and a beautiful brilliant woman in a male-dominated industry has no trouble finding willing partners...

do I really want to do this? it is pretty clear that I'm the one with the fractured heart... I'm the one taking a risk by this. Why the hell not. she'll probably say no anyhow, if she is even home.

A few frustrating moments with the phone book at a booth in the middle of nowhere...

damn it I've never used information before. oh well, guess I'll let the cel phone people charge me through the nose....

"Verizon is connecting you to..."

A woman's voice answers the phone, "Hello?" "I'm sick, but sure... I need some time to clean up. Where in Portland are you?"

...

(over the cel phone) "That's my house..."

"The one with your old car in the driveway... see you in a second."

She lets me in and we visit a few moments. She's been sick for a week with something flu-like, is pretty tired and her voice is a wreck. A quick tour of her house. I'm struck with how similar our tastes are, all the features I love in a house: multiple short stair-cases, awesome rec-room, cozy backyard, wood-burning stove, great kitchen. Her new huge grill, sparsely furnished because she is spending all her money on remodeling, the fruit trees she planted, her 2 pound-kitties darting about the house, her music collection that mirrors mine, the computer she bought at Kinesoft's selloff...

After the tour we sit on the couch. She decides she needs to rest her voice and picks up pen and paper sitting on the coffee table next to her remotes, a copy of the LSAT prep book, cool old-style tacky-as-hell glass coasters, a few pieces of jewelry. She doesn't say a word to me again until I leave about a half-hour later...

"How are you doing?" she writes. So I talk about my job situation, a few generalities about my life, little things I've learned about myself, the Summerstar campout and ritual... She writes little comments and pushes the paper towards me to read, smiles occasionally that beautiful quirky smile, and I talk. I try not to look at her much, as it makes it easier to talk without dwelling on the feelings being with her again brings up...

"Sounds cool" she writes as I talk about the Summerstar ritual

damn this feels weird... it is like going to therapy. Lots of me talking, silence except for the occasional small comment and even those are not spoken aloud...

"I sometimes think my house is too big" she writes. I agree for one person, but tell her I think it is a great house. I say I'd get a pool table for such a big room, and she writes she wants one too.

why is it that we have so damn much in common and yet she thinks of us as never going to work out?

I talk about the silly astrology discussions I've had with my TERRA friends. I say, "I'm a Pisces Sun, Aquarius Moon, Gemini Rising and while I think the general description of those signs fits, I'm not sure it does me any good..."

"I agree... what's the point [with astrology]?" she writes. I agree with her in general, but it still find it fascinating as a way to understand and describe people's personalities.

More talk about myself. It seems like the only thing we can discuss since she can't take the lead in the discussion with pen-and-paper. It's probably safer for me emotionally. Besides, I have that urge to express myself and try to find understanding, that silly communication fetish urging me on. Here I am sitting three feet from a woman I'm still in love with... someone I wanted to build a life with, the only woman I've fallen in love with since Kim. She's sick and tired, but I can still see the face, and hair, and body I held so close and miss so much.

just remember she doesn't want you or want to love you... doesn't matter how you feel about her.

The phone rings, she answers, "Hi. I'm doing OK. Can I call you back in a while?" I look away to hide the wince and discomfort I feel.

stop fearing it is her boyfriend on the phone... it isn't like you have a relationship with her anymore except being an ex and perhaps an old friend. she has friends and people here who love her, and it isn't like she has seen you as a real possibility for a long damn time...

Talk about movies, about Farscape, about Fisher's albums...

"You should go soon. I'm tired and you have to drive back to Seattle," she writes.

never enough time... an hour in a year is far from adequate... hell, I wanted a life-time with this woman...

"I take it you aren't up to dinner." I say. She shakes her head.

"Maybe next time if I'm not sick," she writes. I try not to think about the fact that next time will probably never come, and that she is probably just being polite.

A few more moments of conversation. "It's been nice talking near you..." I say. She laughs and get up to get some medicine and water. "You know, I think this is sorta indicative of our whole relationship," I say. "I talk a lot and you write little one line responses down for me to read..." She laughs.

damn how true that is... I pour my heart out and all I have to go on in return is little scraps. I want so much more...

"I feel like all I've accomplished in two years is writing a game, and it won't even keep the company that wrote it afloat," I say.

She makes an expression and writes, "That sucks." She has the most wonderfully expressive face.

all I really wanted was a way to make a life with you that didn't involve either of us going bankrupt... damn I wish you hadn't given up on me...

"The last time this happened I really didn't want to have to choose between having a life and being employed. This time I still don't have the choice of a life," I say.

A few more moments of talking about my job options after Beep, she looks like she is about to fall asleep on the couch, then she gets up and leads me to the door. "Ah, got it... time for me to leave," I say. An awkward hug... can't tell if she wants to keep her distance because she is sick or just because she is pushing me away emotionally. Probably both. "Take care, love. I miss you" I say and I leave.

"Bye" she says.

...

Having a quick dinner alone at a Japanese restaurant near her old apartment and close to her new house. We used to come here together when I visited Portland, and I haven't had a really good meal in two days.

I'm too used to eating my meals alone

I wanted to buy her the Upper & Downers album for her birthday since she didn't get around to it already, but no store in the area had it.

trying to find excuses to see her again... not a healthy pattern to indulge...

I call her once more and say "Thanks for letting me visit a while. I'm going to have Amazon send you the Fisher album for your birthday. I love you and hope you feel better."

"You don't have to, but thanks..." she says.

...

Driving back north like I did twice a month for nearly a year... I feel like I'm driving away from everything I really want, but it isn't like I have any choice... no choice at all.

Editor's Note: I should say I don't have any better choice... I'm not totally powerless, but I certainly feel powerless to make the choices I might wish to choose from...