I Won’t Wait For You

“Patrick, have you ever slept with anyone else while going out with me?”

“No. I will only be gone a few months. Will you visit me?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll be back. I’ll get another job. Will you wait for me?”

“No.” She squeezes my hands tightly. “I don’t wait for anyone.” She catches herself. “Patrick, that sounds wrong. Let me explain.” Big inhalation. “I believe in karma. Things happen. Things happen for a reason. My place is here. Right now your place is in Toronto. I really hope you can return. I think we’re close to making things happen, y’know, like long term. You really might be the one. But let’s see. I think that the universe is sending us on paths that will make us both happier.”

I frown, not at all convinced.

“Things can work out in unexpected ways. Maybe now that you’re going back to Canada you can change jobs; drop the finance bull-shit and become an artist. Maybe you’ll come back here in triumph. Maybe I’ll love you more then.”

“Ska, I want this to work out now.”

“If it’s the right thing, it will happen.” She starts to cry and holds me tightly. “Patrick, there are things about you that I try not to hate, but they’re small and most of the time I think that you’re amazing. I’m devastated that you’re going. But you have to, and I won’t wait for you.”

Letting Go

Leaving per se is not such a big deal: every day that I’ve been here I’ve thought about going back. My negative emotions are caused by being forced to leave.

Despite these emotions, I suspect that returning home won’t be so different after all. I can find as much wealth and poverty and diversity and style in Toronto as in New York. The difference is simply scale, my friend and enemy. Maybe its time to begin operating on a more human scale.

Dating is totally impossible. One night stands just serve to draw a line under my impending departure. With no interest in internet dating I turn on the television. Iraq is a mess. 3 soldiers dead in Nasaraja (sp) 2 more in Fallulah. It’s so easy to forget that we won the war last spring.

I go into my room, close the door, turn off the lights and sit on a meditation pillow. Though I am alone I live in a world of distractions. My room is dark grey, as it is just after dusk. Across the street a pile driver blasts into the night, my fan whirs, all the details big and small distract me and keep my mind busy. Both my cell phone and my land line start to ring. The tendrils of my social life reach out for me. I have no more time for “I’ll miss you” conversations I’ve already had a lifetime’s worth and who has time for pain?

Then I filter out the noise and start to think. Or rather I am more lucid in my awareness of my thoughts. “I’m leaving tomorrow. What is the difference between leaving and being alone? For me now, nothing.