Carrie called me. It was late at night. I hadn’t heard from her in over two months. I wasn’t usually home until after midnight, but since I had spent the day volunteering at the homeless shelter, I had gone home at ten, and was about ready to turn the light out.
“You’re home?” she said.
“Ye-ah, this is where I live.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Going to bed. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I was just calling to see what you were up to. We haven’t talked for a while.”
I could tell from her voice she’d had a couple glasses of wine, not drunk, but not sober either; not that she ever was at this time of night. It occurred to me that maybe she was calling me because her plans had fallen through, and it was getting late and she didn’t want to be alone.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure, dandy,” she said, sounding a little annoyed, like she wanted to say, “All right? I’m calling you at ten at night, drunk, because I’m lonely and not happy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You want to come over?” Her voice cracked a little, and that crack went like an arrow right into my lonely heart. She wanted me.
I reflected on this. She had hurt me and I held it against her. But we are all flawed so who was I to judge? I wondered if I could show her and my own tortured self some mercy.
“Okay,” I said. “I can come over and talk.”
At the door, she gave me a big hug, and then led me in by the hand. She got me a beer and sat me down beside her on the couch, and said, “I’m so glad you could come over. I’ve missed you.”
When I said nothing, she said, “I’ve really, really missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I said, as noncommittally as I could.
We had a few beers and watched some TV. I was beginning to wonder what I was doing there. I was almost ready to get up to leave when she started sobbing. She leaned her head on my shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably. I held her, held her while she cried. I patted her back. It felt very awkward to see her like this, all her guard down.
“It’s just, this dating is hard, so hard,” she said. “There are a lot of jerks in this world. I don’t know why they are all attracted to me. I want a decent guy, and I want to be married and have a family. I want someone to commit to me.”
“Give it time and maybe someone will.”
“There are a lot of things I would do over if I could.”
She looked so sincere, so anguished, that I really did believe her. When I excused myself to take a pee, after I washed my hands, I looked up in the mirror and saw only myself.
***
That night I did not leave. As I lay next to her, unable to sleep, I admit I felt like the two of us, imperfect as we were, were somehow linked together. Two outcasts, less alone as one.