Eric’s gone. I called him and got his machine. “You have reached Eric Anderson. I will be away from the office until Monday, January second. If you need to speak to someone before then please call Raymond Stone . . .”
I dialed the Cape Cod number. I’m keeping it in my wallet and I also wrote it on the inside cover of my journal in case I lose the paper. No one answered. It occurred to me Eric might have given me the wrong number but I put the thought out of my head.
I called Brian. I knew I shouldn’t, but I called him. I was trying to wait until I felt cheerful and upbeat, not so needy. But I called.
“What’s up?” he asked. His voice sounded little, a little dry point of dread. Music was blasting in the background.
“Nothing,” I said. “I just wanted to check in.”
Hardly an enticing beginning.
“What did you say?” I asked. He was talking low and I couldn’t hear him. I didn’t recognize the music.
“How are things going?” he asked. Like a stranger. Like we hadn’t just made love two days ago.
“How come you haven’t called me?” I was going to say all the wrong things, and I knew it. I knew I just should stay light and casual and fun. “Is something wrong?”
He wasn’t saying anything. The other day I saw a copy of the Duino Elegies lying on his floor, opened out to the first elegy. Brian had underlined the parts about how much you miss when you’re always distracted by the expectation of a beloved. About a soaring, objectless love. In turquoise marker he’d highlighted Isn’t it time we lovingly / freed ourselves from the beloved and, quivering, endured. I remember because those same lines are underscored in my copy. Maybe everybody underscores those lines. But it looked like Brian really took them to heart. I’d looked around on his floor and table for a turquoise marker to see if he’d underlined them recently.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have called,” I said. I knew I shouldn’t have called. I could see him looking at that new Chinese clock. He must have turned the music down because I couldn’t hear it anymore.
“Terry,” he said, “listen to me, I know you’re having a rough time, but I feel like, I don’t know, like you’re using me to get across the street or something.”
That beautiful Irish voice saying that. Using me to get across the street or something. I laid down on the couch and put my legs up on the wall. I rested the phone on my stomach, looked up at that painting of the puddle. Just stared at it. I thought of that kid Chris who had skated me across the intersection the other night. How sweet he was, a sweet helpful stranger. And I thought, Brian’s right, I was using him. I like him a lot, but he is essentially a stranger. I’ve been using him—like a giant pacifier. And when it comes down to it, how well do I know him? What do I know about him? There’s nothing familiar about him. His apartment never feels familiar. That dark, cavey room. That strange cumin smell. I never feel right in there, like I belong in there—the way I do with Mark. No, I don’t know him very well at all. So how could I love him? And how could I expect him to love me?
“Terry . . .”
It’s funny, how it just snapped into place. Just like that.
“You’re right,” I said. “You’re right.” I was almost relieved. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “This isn’t about you, I can see that.” And it’s true. It’s not about Brian. It’s about something, but it’s not about Brian.
He seemed relieved, too. He started to sound more like himself. He told me about a movie he’d just seen and I didn’t even wonder who he’d gone with. I said I’d call the next day, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t. It was over. I could see that.
I hung up. I lay there on the couch, my feet in the air, staring into that puddle, and when the scary thoughts came in I just let them go. I’m doing that a lot now. I had a yoga teacher who said that when unwanted thoughts come into your head you should acknowledge them and then let them go. So I let myself see the thought, really see it, and then I make it explode. When it gets really bad I write the things down and then throw the paper away.
THINGS I DON’T WANT TO THINK ABOUT:
Eric being away
Mark and Yvonne
Christmas without Mark
Student evaluations
Stacey
How much I am eating
THINGS I NEED TO THINK ABOUT:
Why I am crying so much
Screwing up at NYU
Telling Mark about Yvonne’s
Going to Yvonne’s
Reading the paper (there are more important things going on than your life)
Taking one day at a time
I thought of calling Eric’s replacement, Raymond Stone, but I want to save him for an emergency. I have to try to figure out some of this stuff for myself. I’m thirty-six, reasonably intelligent, it’s almost the new year, and I can make a new start. Make some early New Year’s resolutions.
THINGS I WILL NOT DO:
Go to Yvonne’s again
(remember, one day at a time)
For today I will not go to Yvonne’s
Cry in public
Call Mark
Call Yvonne
Call Eric
Call Sarah
Call my mother
Go home for Christmas
Read Mark’s journal even though it’s in his desk drawer
THINGS I WILL DO:
Spend one hour daily (at least) reading poems for next term
Stop eating in between meals
Meditate (at least 20 min.)
Stop talking to strangers
Send Mark a letter
Ignore Christmas
Clean the loft
Drink only one glass of wine a day
Go to the gym every day
Read the Times every day (no exceptions)
Think about people other than myself
Get Mark back
Tell Mark he left his journal here