So I called up YMK and told him I went on a date with RBB.
He was intrigued by my reaction, yet he said, “Go and enjoy yourself baby.”
“What dat mean? Don’t you care if I fuck another man?” There was no anger, no real annoyance, I was curious.
“Of course I do, but I can’t stay here and hold your foot,” he answered quietly. “You’re a grown woman, you make your own choices. I’m not saying I think it’s right. I’m just telling you I understand.”
“I felt wrong. I kind of felt so weird and confused,” I said. “I thought about you so many times, yet it felt nice to be spending time with him again.
“It kind of worries me, because you know I feel as though this is what it’s going to be like when I get to England. I’m going to meet guys and feel like you know, he’s interesting, but the whole time I’m out with them, you’re going to be in my head and I’m not going to be able to feel completely comfortable.”
“I think you should enjoy yourself. Have fun. Have as much fun as you can,” he says very matter of factly.
“I’m going to. I will, but I’ll be there thinking, shit, I wish you were here to see that!” I said in a rush. He muttered something.
“Or want to tell you something, but you won’t be right there for me tell or call,” I went on. He muttered something again.
“Did you hear me?” He asked.
“No what did you say?”
“I miss you!” He said more insistently, somehow that isn’t what it sounded like to me, but now, ‘I miss you’ replaces words with deeper meaning and resonance, words we’re not willing to freely admit to yet. I felt so lonely for him.
“I woke up this morning and I wanted you there with me,” he said.
“Me too. My poonkie wanted me to tell you that she misses you too,” I said in a small voice.
He giggled, “I miss her too…”
“Man! This is going to be hard. I never liked anyone the way I liked you.”
“I knew this was happening to you, you know, but I didn’t say anything,” he said.
I’m wondering what he means at this point. Did he know and do nothing? Did he know and will it? Did he know and not feel the same way?
“You know, I guess it would be easier if I knew how you felt, unequivocally; if I knew where we stood.”
“But you know where we stand; you know how I feel,” he protested.
“No I don’t!” I cried.
“Yes you do!” He answered.
“Well, okay even if I do, tell me again,” I demanded.
“The whole point about me coming up to England is so we could try. I want to try to work thing out with you,” he said it patiently. I don’t know where he gets this patience. Sometimes, in fact I know that he has a short fuse, I just wonder how it is he’s so patient and understanding with me. Sometimes I feel suspicious. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, then I have to remind myself that I have to not let the past decide all of the future, and well… to stop obsessing about this shit.
“You know baby, that’s all I need,” I replied. “All I need to know, is that you are willing to try.”
“I am,” then, seconds later he added, “I miss you.”
Everything in me is reaching out, reaching out for him. Willing him to find the money, get his visa and get on the plane. I want him to trip and fall in money so he can get up to England quickly.
When he tells me he misses me now, it’s like, we’re using these words, but they’re kind of superficial. We’re saying all we’re willing to say, but we are saying it with such deep feeling. There’s no way to fake that kind of funk. It’s either there or it isn’t.
I’m dealing with some serious shit on the family front too. Shit I just don’t want to talk about in this forum because it’s too personal, too, too close to home. I just wish he was here, here with me. Not that I want to suck him into my family and their crap, but he always knows how to deal with me, how to handle me when I get upset and high strung.
I just want him here with me.
We talked more. I asked him again if it bothered him that I went out with RBB.
“He wanted to fuck me. He wanted to fuck me bad,” I reported. Why am I like this? It wasn’t what you would call sick twisted pleasure in reporting such things, but it was definitely compulsive. Once I had told him some, I told him everything.
“Yes, it bothers me, but I just want you to live and enjoy yourself and don’t let me hold you back. I’m not saying it’s right and I’m okay with it, but I don’t want to stop you,” he said it like with the minimum of feeling.
“Well I couldn’t,” I replied in a ‘so there’ kind of tone.
He said nothing.
“I feel like I could tell you anything,” I said softly. “I feel like I could share anything with you.”
He said nothing.
“What’s the matter? Why aren’t you talking?” I demanded.
“Ent ya tell me, ah does talk too much?”
I giggled, “Yes, but this just isn’t stuff to keep to yourself.”
“Well I’m just listening,” he responded in his quiet tone.
“I also kind of like that you tell me stuff too. Stuff I don’t want to hear all the time, but stuff that matters to you,” I continued.
“I don’t tell you everything, you know that?”
“Yes I do, hence the ‘stuff’ you tell me. I don’t tell you everything either, hence the ‘anything’ in ‘I can tell you anything’,” I intoned.
We went on talking until the conversation wound down because, say what, is long distance we talking because I am still in Barbados.
I am missing my baby and it’s been years since I missed someone like this.