What if he doesn’t text me back?
This is the fifth time I’ve flown down here and watched him…
Stalked.
If I’m honest, I guess the word I’m looking for isstalked.
Because I know nearly everything about him right now except the two things I’m terrified to learn—does he hate me for letting him leave, and has he found someone else?
The last time I flew down here, I followed him around on a Saturday while he ran errands. I rented a car, staked out his apartment building, and nearly freaked when I saw him getting on a bus. I followed it and almost missed it when he got off outside a Target.
Followed him around inside the Target.
I know, I know. I might have a…problem.
He wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention. Had his earbuds in, presumably listening to music on his phone, but there was no characteristic bounce in his step. None of the times I’ve stalked him have I seen that.
He still looks like I feel.
Heartbroken.
It made my heart simultaneously ache to see him so sad but gave me hope that maybe he is stillmyboy.
A couple of times, I thought about walking up behind him and clamping a hand onto his shoulder, scaring the crap out of him for not having better situational awareness, and…
I couldn’t.
One time, I approached him from behind and, when he turned to look at something on the shelf, I chickened out and edged past him, out of his line of sight, and quickly kept walking without looking back, so he wouldn’t see my face. When I turned the corner at the end of the aisle, I glanced back, and hestillwasn’t paying a damn bit of attention.
Which brings me to today, the here and now, as I stand in the shadows and wait.
It’s been over five months since Jordan left DC. What do I evensayto him? Especially after so much radio silence between us. I can’t promise him that if he comes back our situation will ever change.
I can’t promise him we’ll be a triad, and I can’t quit Elliot, rightly or wrongly. It’d be cruel to drag Jordan back into this emotional quagmire, wouldn’t it? I know I can’t make myself break up with Elliot.
Jordan was absolutely right—Elliotneedsme.
Worse, I need him.
Unfortunately, things are slowly deteriorating between me and Elliot. My anger and grief and pain are keeping me away from him, because I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to say things I can’t take back.
I don’t want to blame him.
Meaning I’ve been neglecting him. I haven’t had the energy to push him to let me in. It’s been easier to bounce off his orbit and careen around on my own rather than trying to insert myself into his life and schedule.
That hurts, too. That he’s not fighting for me. Forus.
Maybe I don’t deserve either of them.
When Jordan emerges from the office building, I perk up but then I want to fuckingscreamat him.
Head down over his fucking phone,again, which he carries in his right hand, his left holding the strap of his messenger bag, which is slung across his body, and earbuds in.
Oblivious to the world around him. A fucking innocent babe in the woods, the perfect victim.
Like he’s learned absolutely fuckingnothingfrom his years with me.
Today, I’mgoingto do it. I’m going tofollowhim, walk up to him outside his front door, and fucking scare the crap out of him.
