Balance

The ring on the other end is tense.  It is screaming to be picked up, and I imagine her hand hovering indecisively above the receiver.  The automaton who has replaced her answers and asks me to leave a message.  I hang up quietly.  “Maybe she’s not home,” you say.

“Maybe,” I repeat, but I know that there was life on the other end of the line.  It was not the sound of a phone ringing in an empty house.
You kiss me on the shoulder and give me a reassuring smile.  I have been calling her for four days, and still, there is only a machine to answer.  I have the distinct feeling that, at that very moment, I am having an affair.  You catch me gazing out of the window, brow furrowed.  “You can’t do this to yourself,” you say, and I say “I can’t do anything else.”  These are complex loyalties, I think, that you don’t understand.  

“She’s not going to call back tonight,” you say, and lay back down.  I wish I had your power to stop caring.

“This isn’t fair,” I say, “to anyone,” after a long silence.  “And I know that life isn’t fair, but shouldn’t people try to make it so anyway?  Just like people aren’t good by nature, but they try to be that way anyhow.  Don’t you think…”  I am about to make a religious analogy but stop myself.  I am too tired for philosophy.  

You sit up to join me by the window.  “Don’t I think what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” I say.  “Nothing.  Just, if people gave a damn once in a while, you know?  God, if people gave a damn once in a while things would be so different.”  Hot tears flood into my eyes and inside I scream to her “I’m the abandoned one here!  It was never you!”  There is more silence in the room.  And anger holds out in me and I scream silently again “You’ll have to cut me open and ration me out before I choose between you!”  

“What are you gonna tell her when you do talk?” you ask.  I realize that what you’re asking is “How are you going to defend this?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know what to say.”  Suddenly I am tired of knowing both of you; the strain of keeping the balance between two loves.  My answer doesn’t convince you in the least.

“Well this can’t just go on,” you say.  “Sometimes,” you say more quietly, deliberately, “sometimes you act like this doesn’t even matter do you.  And I don’t want you to choose…”  But you do.  “…either one of us, but I’m tired of always feeling second best.”  

Not you too, I think, and instead of getting angry again my body goes slack and I lose all urge to fight.  “I’m sorry,” I say.  “I know.”  And I know that neither of you would be satisfied with a claim of equality.  I am hit by another wave of fatigue.  “I’m tired,” I say, “of feeling guilty when I’m with you.”  There is a pang of treason in my gut when I remember once again the unspoken promises I have with her.  “I’m tired of that,” I say, “but I can’t just forget about her either.”

“I know.”

“I know that you understand, but I’m still sorry.”

“For what?”

“Sorry that I can’t just…love you.”  I wish that she could hear the whole conversation and understand.  

I pick up the phone again, and I can see your concern plainly, but I dial anyway.  There is the same tense ring on the line and on the third ring she answers.  Her voice is gravely and quiet.  Her lips sound tired and unaccustomed to the words.  “Hi,” I say.

“Hi.”

“I’m glad you answered,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what are you calling about?”

“I just wanted…”  I pause to gather a bit more conviction.  “I wanted to tell you that I’m…”

“No, don’t,” she interrupts.  “I am, though, sorry.”

“Well, I guess that makes two of us,” I say, and she laughs a little.  Both of us realize the absurdity at once, and there is a tangible relief.  “This is absurd,” I say.

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” I say.  “Yeah, it is.”

“Well, I guess we should try to be less absurd.”  The accusation is gone from her voice.  We are just two old friends talking again.  And all the while you are smiling your own absurd smile.  I have you both balanced between me, but I am giving you both my all.  

You fall asleep while I’m still on the phone, with no jealousy that I am with her and not you, and before hanging up she tells me that she loves me, and I say that I love her too, that I love her to bits, then I curl up beside you and go to sleep.