When Snooping Gets Out Of Control

Two days later—after not talking and talking in circles and crying and restaurants and beds and sleeping and not sleeping and drinks and showers and baths and so many minutes and dollars wasted—I decide I'm going to drop it. After all, what I read wasn't anything that really proves he doesn't love me, doesn’t believe in me. And all those letters are from before my time. And, if I really stop to think about it, I’m no angel myself.

But I'm still waiting for him to do something—something of such magnitude that I'll know…

The phone rings. "Maybe I could come by your place, and we could go for a walk in the park or something?" he suggests.

"Yeah?"I look outside, and the sun is shining like pure happiness.

"I'll just finish making a few more calls, and then I'll come by before my basketball game."

I stay silent, waiting for more.

"Does that sound good?" he asks tentatively.

It sounds better than nothing.

"Yeah," I mutter. I haven't been talking much, so I'm wary of my voice. I decide to zip it: radio silence.

"Hello?"

I'm hoping he'll know what to do with this stillness, that he'll cross it to come get me, bearing that make-up-for-everything something.

"What are you doing for dinner?"

Could this be it?

"I don't know."

"Well, do you want to have dinner with me?"

"Sure."

Silence on both ends.

"I don't have to go to basketball."

OK, there's a sacrifice. But he's resentful? The nerve.

"Well, don't do anything on account of me!" The zipper has split open, and I'm furious. I can practically see the estrogen in my body rising to unnatural levels.

"Oh, don't worry," he says nastily. "I really want to have dinner with you. What with you being so sweet and all."

I look over at his picture on my bedside table and, miraculously, remember that I was going to drop it. He loves me. "He loves you," I can hear friends and family chanting, pleading for me to believe.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask gently.