Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot?

It was New Year’s Eve.  I’d only seen Bob twice in the last five or six months, and the last time had been close to Christmas, when he had gifts for Cory.  It had been uncomfortable, and full of tension.  Every time I glanced his way, keeping my voice pleasant and neutral, his dark eyes were boring into me.  I expected him to look at me with hatred, but he only looked miserable and, perhaps, chastised.  In his eyes, I saw the relentless question that should have been mine – why? 

            So on New Year’s Eve, Cory at a friend’s and Jake at his dad’s, I set out to answer the question.  I believed that he deserved the explanation I needed to give.  I showed up on his doorstep unannounced.  He looked surprised to see me, and nervous.  As he offered me something to drink like I was formal company coming to call, I began to wonder if this was what being “estranged” really meant. 

            I sat on the couch, while he sat in an armchair across the room.  Small talk ensued.  He asked the questions, while I answered them.  How was the kids’ Christmas?  Had Jake been sledding yet?  How was Cory doing?  How were my parents?  These pleasant, harmless questions narrowed down steadily to the one, “Nick, it’s so great to see you.  But why are you here?”

            This was it.  I took a deep breath and tried to figure out where to start.  While I was getting my bearings, the tears began rolling down my cheeks, silent and hot.  I could feel them burning my face.  I couldn’t stop them.  I didn’t even try.

            When I looked up, he was sitting on the coffee table directly in front of me, studying the carpet.  He wouldn’t meet my eyes.  I waited to see what he would say.  I expected anger that I had left him without an explanation, anger that I dared to leave him at all, or perhaps a plea for my heart.  He could persuade me to follow him into hell and had, on many occasions. 

            He opened his mouth, then closed it.  Still no words.  Before I could blink, he had put one arm under my legs and the other around my back, scooping me up in one swift movement as he pressed his lips urgently to mine.  He carried me carefully to his bed where everything was said without saying anything at all.

            Later, as I dressed, I realized I had just willingly returned to the lion’s den.  Forget what was wrong with him… hell, what was wrong with me?