Tuesday, May 29, 2007

The Key in an Open Hand

I paused a moment before opening the hotel room door, knowing that he wasn’t inside but still disappointed when he wasn’t inside. Before he left, I tucked the second key into his pocket, “In case you want to come back.”

It’s not wanting. It’s flight schedules and long work days and money, always money. Once we had a phone date, both on our cells in different cities having dinner, but I drove to New Orleans instead of Atlanta and met him in the restaurant, the staff charmingly congratulatory when the live girl walked up in dress and heels (I showered and changed at a truck stop, the transformation from driving sweats to dinner girl fazing the guys in the shower line) and they reseated us from the bar where he’d anticipated talking on his phone to a charming corner table, extra appetizers, have a glass of wine on us.

So I am only a little crushed.

Later, Lover rings me, at least I know he left the party alone, he had a little with the hostess but couldn’t outwait the other guests at the end of the day, the three days. Music’s glamorous but it’s hard, the energy pours out indiscriminately and I never worry about the ones who listen, they’re part of a herd. But colleagues are another story, and jealousy is not the problem but possessiveness is. It’s not my call to make. If he is to be a fellow traveler and not a thing to be used and discarded, he cannot be just mine, it demeans, lessens, makes me too sure.

Today I was in Claire’s, hair flowers, tights, purses, tiaras, little notebooks, cheap pleasure in my basket and half-off from the nice guy behind the counter (I ask about a Hair-i-gami to make clever buns, Hans knows immediately it’s wrong for the texture of my hair, so much for retail drones not caring). I want some earrings. Something small, that I can not bother to take out before bed. I want Lover to give me some earrings. Small gold hoops that I can wear all the time, real gold, probably not from Claire’s…

I’m half an hour back on the job before the symbolism crashes into my brain.


1 comment:

Suze said...

You should treat yourself to something nice, perhaps a pair of studs which you could leave in.