Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Disconcerted, maybe that's it.

Last night, I stop on my walk home to look at a graveyard. I try to read inscriptions but few characters are legible. Closed one hundred and sixty years ago, the tombstones are worn soft and toppled. A flash of light catches my eye, then another, and then more: it is twilight, and the space now walled by buildings is filled with fireflies. Perhaps tapping out the Morse code of the dead.

Later, I am sad. Jonathan is again out of sorts; we will not be spending time together, as I had hoped. My Wednesday meeting is canceled. I think that maybe this will give me more time with him, but then considering how things have been, think otherwise. What is time with someone who isn't there? I try to talk to him; he has no replies. I tell him that sometimes I feel like we shouldn't get married, because of these nights mostly. Again I am met with silence. I spend the evening feeling as if the meaning is being drained from my hectic life, leaving behind only obligations. Sleep comes fitfully, tossing and calling out for an hour or more before the darkness can bring peace.

Today I am sad still. In the morning my stomach will not be calm and I want to cry, to sob. But of course I am at work, the unintended position, so I cannot. Perhaps if I were up front, in my private world - but no, my computer there is broken, so I'm in the back at the secretary's desk. In the middle of it all. Exposed.

I'm cheered momentarily when the hard-nosed blowhard male attorney of the office decides to order chinese food for us. My vegetable and bean curd soup comes without any bean curd, but at least there's food and at least it's free. Afternoon brings only drudgery: request medical records for these 45 clients, oh would you please? Not so bad I suppose; I only had to fill out authorizations for 30 of them.

And then at 5pm I am released, and somehow I don't feel any better at all. Of the list of things that may be upsetting me, "job" is crossed off. I am at my studio now; I have yet to face home, to face him. Any number of things could happen when I get there, from good to bad with an infinite gray scale in between. I sit here, stalling, in fear of the darker end.

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