I called Inge. I told her I wasn't ready to see her, but that I felt like talking. I also told her that I'd had a bad few days. I didn't tell her that it felt like an inevitable crash after a period of activity and good vibes. I don't want her to feel responsible. I fear that if I said something like that, she would say it was a bad idea to see me. I'm really afraid she might think this whole thing is a really bad idea. Honestly, I might think this whole thing is a really bad idea.
It's not though. I keep telling myself that the ups are worth the downs. If I don't go for the ups, then all I have is downs anyway. I trust myself on that.
Talking on the phone can be awkward. It's much harder to tell if someone's really listening because the usual visual body language cues aren't there. Is she quiet because she's listening? Or is she quiet because she's not listening? I think Inge is quiet because she's Inge. I couldn't shake off the anxiety that she was politely lending me an ear while she focused her attention on something more interesting though. But just because I can't shake it off, doesn't mean I can't also regard it as wrong.
I felt like she was listening, and I trust myself on that too.
I asked her what she'd been up to. She said that she'd just been going to work and relaxing at home, taking some time to clear her head. She'd succeeded in doing so, and that's why she'd said she was ready. But she assured me there was no rush. She even said that if I decided not to see her again, I could and should just say so. She said she'd be hurt, but that she'd already accepted that this whole situation was going to hurt one way or another.
When she said this, it felt like all the moisture in my throat instantly relocated to my eyes. I felt a tense chill. It was fear, and it came at me from all directions. All I could say was,
"No."
I could hear her breathing. It soothed me.
I cleared my throat, awkwardly hard and for an awkwardly long time,
"I'll see you soon."
"Yes. Good," she said. "Goodbye David."
My voice had apparently clocked off for the day, so I just hung up.
YOU ARE READING
Man Of Few Words
General FictionOne man's painful yet funny search for meaning in a life about to be cut short. Cancer has made David Alexander's whole existence suddenly seem worthless. But is it?
