Communication is everything.
1987
Daddy and I are having a Fight. I wanted to watch Cartoons, he wanted to watch The News. I hate The News. I know how to use the New Remote now, so I put on Cartoons. Daddy yelled, and I went to my room.
For a little while I kick things because it is Not Fair. I kick my toy bin and my bed and my Care Bear and my blanket. Now my room is a mess and my toes hurt but I’m not so mad anymore, but I feel bad for my things, because I wasn’t mad at them. So I hug my toy bin and my bed and my Care Bear and my blanket and tell them I’m Sorry. I don’t think they forgive me yet, but I will play with them later and then maybe they won’t be so sad.
I wonder if it’s okay to come downstairs yet. I wonder if there’s tuna fish sandwiches. I Sit-Go-Down on the stairs, like I did when I was Little, because it is quiet and I can peek around the bottom of the stairs and see if Daddy is still mad.
Daddy is sitting in the Recliner, with his face down. He might still be mad. I try to sneak into the kitchen, but Daddy sees me and says, “Robin.”
Uh-Oh.
“Come here.”
I do.
Daddy puts me on his lap and hugs me. I hug him back. I’m glad we’re not mad anymore. Being mad makes my Stomach hurt (Ms. Strauss says it’s a Stomach, not a Tummy, and she’s usually right about this stuff).
Daddy says, “Want to Kiss and Makeup?” He is smiling.
I wrinkle my nose. I hate makeup. My cousin keeps trying to put Lipstick and Eyeshadows on me, and Mommy buys me Nail Polish, which works good on my paintings but looks silly on my toes. Barbies have big blue circles over their eyes, and even though Blue is my very favorite color, I think they look dumb. I hate makeup.
So I say, “I’ll Kiss, but I don’t want to Makeup.” I am about to say we should play something else, like Hungry Hungry Hippos, but Daddy looks madder than before, so I don’t say anything at all. He says, “Fine,” and he kisses me on the cheek and sets me down on the floor and he walks upstairs.
I guess I did something bad again.
2002
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to come,” The Wookiee says on the other end of the line. I sit down on the common room couch and trying to keep breathing.
“Why not?”
“I don’t… I can’t afford the ticket.” I know him well enough by now to know what it costs him to say that. He’s dirt poor. So am I. Flying out there last month had eaten most of my savings, even at post-9/11 airline prices.
Long distance relationships suck.
I don’t want to push it, don’t want to sound like the neediest, most co-dependent creature to ever walk the earth, but the words burst out before I can stop them: “But I want to see you.”
A long, sad breath. “I want to see you, too. But—”
I know the next words that are going to come out of his mouth, I know them, and the band around my chest squeezes so tight that I swear I can hear my ribs crack—
“—I just… don’t think this is going to work out.”
Oh, God.
“I’m sorry.” And he sounded it.
Of course it wasn’t going to work out. He lives a thousand miles away. A relationship can’t last when you can only see each other a few times a year. The amazing thing is that it actually lasted this long. He’s probably even interested in someone else out there, some Scandinavian blonde leggy thing that lives right across the street and isn’t the neediest, most co-dependent creature to ever walk the earth…
I put my head between my knees and tried to force some air into my lungs. Nellie and Sarah give me curious looks on their way to the dorm kitchen, but don’t stop.
“…Robin? Are you there?”
“Yeah. I’m here.” Okay. Get off the phone. Pretend to be fine. Leave with your dignity, at least.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” Leave with your dignity. Don’t beg. Do. Not. Beg. “So… it’s over, then?” My voice cracks. Of course it cracks. To leave with dignity you have to have some to start with.
“What? Over?” I can almost see him blinking. “You’re breaking up with me?” The words come out shocked and panicked.
Huh? “You’re… you’re the one that said it wasn’t working out. So, technically, you’re the one breaking up with me. If we’re putting it on the record.” Humor is almost like dignity, right? When you’re being dumped by a guy you adore and you’re hyperventilating, it’s best to take what you can get.
“What? No! I’m not – I meant the trip! I was thinking maybe next month instead of this month. It sucks, but… no! I love you! I’m not breaking up with you! I… Robin? Hello?”
The air rushes back into my lungs, and in between my sudden inexplicable laughter, I realize that this is the man I’m going to marry.
Nice writing :) Even knowing the second one obviously works out, it still made me all nervous like. PHEW.
Thanks. And trust me, it made me a little nervous at the time, too.