It was a bit past I__’s bedtime and I was expecting his night-night call. Originally, an as-low-key-as-they-come early-evening coffee date, I stood in J__’s kitchen “helping” prepare dinner. My phone was still in mail when I opened it, and it insisted on checking for new messages. There in the headers was “T__”.
One quick peek, I thought clicking it, somewhat guiltily. Inside was what appeared, at first glance an apology. I couldn’t help but feel better (plus a bit of the kind of bad which is really a different kind of better).
Too late now; I’m having dinner with J__ whose company is so undramatically pleasant, I’ve probably had no occasion to mention it yet. (Nah-nuh Nah-nuh Nah Nah)
Later, when I had a chance to actually read her message, I saw it was equal parts embarrassed, honest apology and irrelevant accounting of the bad day that preceded her “rude behavior” (her words).
I was tempted to reply simply with “apology accepted” which would have been honest, and c’mon — funny. K__ and I would often have arguments that only seemed to find resolution when I bent and apologized. On rare occasion when the tables were turned, I found it was better to simply accept the apology than discuss it further and risk reopening whatever foul business was currently on its way closed.
T__ displays signs of some similar tendencies, though I don’t know her well enough to be fatalistic. I did notice feeling a bit of relief when she showed me her ass, and I thought, “Well, that certainly makes things easier.”
…
Dinner was fun. We drank wine and made easy conversation. Afterwards we shared a cigarette on her back porch. “You don’t have herpes or anything…”
(Ok, I really do have to get an STD test, pronto. If only for my own fragile sanity.)
I talked too much as is my habit, but it seemed to have been alright. I got my goodnight kiss on and drove home happy.
…
I saw E__ today at the coffeeshop. She was on the phone, and I had in my headphones. We smiled but didn’t speak. I still miss her, and I’m not sorry.