Abandoned!

It was just the sort of situation that the expression “too good to be true” must have been created for. She had said that she would meet me here, and after weeks of tension and uneasiness over what had been happening between us, we were going to have a chance to talk in quiet togetherness. We would be free, for a few precious hours, from the distractions of work, children, school, and schedules; I was confident that we would forge new links and strengthen our already robust relationship. As the minutes wore on, however, and she did not appear, I grew increasingly ill at ease. Promptness had always been one of her great virtues, and I knew that something was wrong. At first I feared for her physical safety, but my intuition told me that nothing ill had befallen her. Instead, my mind reeled in other directions, recalling her strange and distant attitude of the past days, things she had failed to say and do, reassurances I had expected but not received, implied promises broken. Seized with the certainty that she had abandoned me forever, I became dizzy and disoriented; life seemed bleak and overwhelming.

I sat. A small part of my brain, clinging to reason the way the hand of a shipwreck victim might cling to a bit of flotsam, reminded me that the situation was not all that bleak. By anyone’s standards I was overreacting. The feeling was not unfamiliar to me, and I began to ponder why such a small breach of etiquette should put me in such a disturbed state.

Nearly a year before I had been involved with a different lady. We had been seeing each other for just under three months, growing into a close and comfortable union in that short time. Though we really had not had time enough to forge any long–term bonds, I had a great deal of confidence in our future. We were together every weekend, and had reached a point where we each simply assumed we would be a couple for a long time. One Saturday we both needed to work; we had agreed to meet at four–thirty. At four fifteen she called to say she was too busy to make it, and asked to postpone it for a while. Again, I had that dread, irrational fear. Though I told myself that I was overreacting, we haven’t seen each other since that day. We remain friends, speaking occasionally by telephone, but that moment marked the end of a promising affair.

Many years before, I had a friend that had gotten herself into a bit of trouble. I did all I could to help. In the course of trying to extricate Maggi from her difficulties, we grew quite close. The day came, however, when she left to meet with a friend of hers. She assured me she would return shortly. She was seldom on time for anything, and when she failed to return it took me several hours to actually panic. That dread feeling that I would never see her again took hold, and I searched for her in all of the places she used to frequent. I was unsuccessful. When I finally saw her again, three years later, months of prostitution-financed drug abuse had taken their toll on her mind and spirit; I never again saw the bright, witty, confident woman I had once known and respected.

There have been other times in my life when important people have left my life and have, unplanned, never returned. It is a part of living; people change, move, and die. Still, it seems to be unusually traumatic for me. My first memories of that frightened, alone feeling date to my early childhood, before I was even old enough to speak. I can remember my mother often leaving me in the car, explaining that she would return “in five minutes.” I had no sense of time, and I cannot honestly say whether she returned in five minutes or five hours. I only know that the time seemed interminable, and that during that time I was often convinced that I would never see her again. Those times are among the most vivid of the few memories I have of my childhood.

My friend still had not shown up. I still did not understand my deep dread of abandonment: Mommie, of course, always came back to the car. Maggi might not have turned out as I had hoped, but she survived and claimed, at least, to be happy with her life. Kim and I remain on good, if somewhat distant, terms. I decided that, whatever was keeping her from our meeting, it would all work out okay. Reassured in my mind, if not in my heart, I went on home.

She called a while later; things were not as good as I had hoped, nor as bad as I had feared. The day marked a turning point, but by no means an end, to our relationship; by day’s end it was clear that it had all been for the best. Perhaps, remembering that day, I will react a bit more rationally the next time I feel abandoned.

-- RonRisley - 06 Apr 1989