“Let me tell you my story,” she told him with a fierceness in her voice.
“Terry and I were friends. He liked me. He made that very obvious, but when I asked him if he wanted a relationship he said “No, I have too much I need to work on. It’s not the right time for me.”
She went on to tell Ron she remained friends with Terry until he got a girlfriend. Then he wouldn’t even answer a text to pick up a piece of furniture he had purchased from her. And there was no mistake he got the text, as Tara sent three to him.
“So . . . No, I do not want to remain friends,” she said. “It’s one thing to lose a relationship before it even starts, but it really hurts to lose a friendship.” With that, she took herself to bed and tossed his pillow out in the hallway, meaning to say ‘I’m sleeping alone but I want you to be comfortable in your own bed.’ Somehow he misread it, though, because when Tara rose at 1:33 a.m., she stepped on the puffy pad still laying in the hallway.
At first, she thought he’d left while she was sleeping, but his coat and shoes, computer and personal calendar, smokes and glasses were still on the kitchen table where he’d put them after work.
Yes, he spent his youth making money and money he has. I, however, thought Tara, spent my youth bearing children. Funny, he wants to trade places with me.
“You don’t look 59,” she remembered saying to him. “You can find a 40 year old and still have children. You’ll always regret it if you don’t.” And I’ll always feel a sense of loss that I can’t give them to you if I stay with you, she thought.
No, this was not a good relationship for either of them. But she had to give him the credit that he at least told her. At least he had the decency to sit and talk with her. At least and at most.