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“Busy. Lots of meetings that I had to sit through when I really needed to be behind my desk at my computer and getting shit done. I feel like my whole day was wasted. It’s going to take forever to get the rest of this completed.” I can see her typing; her fingers never stop moving. I can tell she’s still very busy with work. I know that sign all too well. That used to be me years ago.
“Damn, that sucks. Sorry. I'll tell you what. I’m going to hit the sack early tonight and let you have some good quiet time to hopefully get caught up. We can talk tomorrow,” I suggest.
“Sure, that sounds good,” she says, but I honestly don’t think she even heard what I said to her. I disconnect the video. If I hadn’t, I’m pretty sure I would have been sitting there watching her type the rest of the night. I lay my head back on the pillow and know that I just lost the only woman that I’ve felt a huge connection with. What’s worse is that I lost her to the life I used to live and the life that I’ll never go back to again. I can’t ask her to leave that behind. I see how much it defines her and I understand, but I don’t want to be a part of that.
I didn't go to her place for my turn because, of course, she was busy with work plans over the weekend. So, for the next month, I’ve cut back on the video chats, almost down to none, but I still receive the daily check in texts that I’ve been getting from Julia since the day she left my place.
It feels like she’s made me an item on her list, like I’m not a person to her while we’re apart. In a few of those texts, I propose dates for my next visit, but she always responds with, “I’m not sure, I’ll have to check my schedule.” When she does get back to me, it’s to tell me she can’t give me a whole day, only a few hours. That’s not good enough.
So, I think it’s time. That moment I didn’t want to have to do, but it’s inevitable with long-distance relationships of any kind.
“I think it's best if we go our separate ways,” I say out loud to no one.
I’m better off staying single. This is another reason that I don’t get close to people. I’m better off without her, or anyone, for that matter. People do nothing but let you down. That’s how they’re built. They can’t help it. And it hurts too much when it inevitably happens.
After a long day of working outside, I sit down at the very table that I had Julia splayed out on and pour my heart out to her in a handwritten letter.
Then life goes back to the way it was before I ever met Julia, a time when I avoided my phone. I didn’t want, nor care, to see her response. If there even was one. One evening, while I’m working in the wood shop, Mom and Parker make an impromptu appearance at the ranch.
“Yo, bro!” my brother Parker yells as he walks through the front door without any warning. Not even a knock on the door before entering, like polite people do.
“Ry,” Mom tries to calm me down because she knows what the stare down means, that I’m about two seconds away from throwing my younger sibling into the wall. “Don’t be upset. We tried to text and call, but you haven’t responded in days. So, we had to drive out here and make sure you’re alright.” She pats me on the arms and brings my attention towards her. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing, Mom. Nothing is wrong with me,” I bark out a little harsher than I should have, and I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You were fine when Julia was visiting here and for a little while afterwards, but now you are not. What happened?” She demands answers.
“What happened is that you should have never got involved in whatever shenanigans you and her mother were up to. You both knew that we were in two very different places in our lives. You ladies put us in a situation which only left room for hurt when it didn’t work out. Besides, you know that I’m not going back to that fast-paced business life, and I won’t ask her to walk away from that either. She’s worked her ass off to get where she is. No one has any right to ask her to step down from that.”
“You’re right. I should have stayed out of your love life. I just worry about you. I don’t want you to be alone when I leave this Earth. I’m sorry, son,” she agrees, a single tear runs down her cheek.
“I’m sorry too, Mom.” I pull her in for a hug. “If I’m meant to be with someone, it will happen. We can’t force things like that.”
Chapter 24
Julia
The last time I talked to Ryan, his voice was clipped. His answers were curt. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk to me, like it was some obligation he felt he had to fulfill for our relationship. It’s becoming so much work, and I already have a full-time job. When we first started, everything was easy. I can’t recall when it changed. So, my communications with him seem to have stopped, and I’m not sure when that even happened.
So where do we go from here? Can I ask him that or do I have to figure it out for myself? I want to know what to do next, like an action step list, but relationships don’t come with detailed plans. They should. Like some kind of manual I can refer to when I’m wondering what to do about things like this.
I order a car to go home. I hadn’t felt like driving in myself today and dealing with parking since we don’t have valet at the office. As I watch the city go by, I feel lonely. I want Ryan to be here with me, but I can’t ask him to endure my fast-paced life when I know he wants his life to be calmer.
The doorman greets me with a cheerful “Hello,” and I muster the energy to return his smile. After I get through my door and put down my briefcase at the kitchen table, I pull a meal from the fridge from the box kit I’ve been ordering recently. It’s supposed to be healthy even though it’s a heat-and-eat microwave meal. While I wait for it to cook, I pour a glass of red wine, a routine I’ve done a thousand times.
Before I can dig in to my meal, I get a call up from the intercom by the front door. They have a package for me, and I have to sign for it. I’m confused because I don’t remember ordering anything. Maybe someone else sent something to me?
I slide on my house shoes and head to the elevator. The security guy is waiting for me with a bike messenger who has a large envelope in hand. He hands me a stylus and holds a small tablet out to me.
“I need you to sign here,” he says without preamble.
I sign and take the envelope. It’s from Ryan. His name and the address for the ranch are printed on a return label stuck to the corner. It’s about the size of a regular sheet of paper and has a bit of weight to it. I’m excited to find out what it might be. I thank the security guy and head back up to my place in the elevator.
Should I text him to tell him I got the package? No, if I had to sign for it, he should get a notification that I received it. I’m resigned to find out what it is first, then I’ll send him a message. Or maybe I’ll call him. I think he’d like that.
The envelope has a seal on the back with a large sticker and a piece of tape over the opening. Ryan wanted me to know that it hadn’t been opened in transit. I use my fingernails to pry up the tape and the seal and find two sheets of heavy cream-colored paper, all filled with writing in Ryan’s large loopy letters, front and back.
I get butterflies as I start to read, but after a few lines I realize this isn’t a love letter, and my world blurs. I have trouble making it to the end. The paper drops to the floor as I sink to the couch. How did I let this happen?
