LIZZIE'S WORLD: Getting back to Chris

It’s Sunday evening and I am passing time in my house, waiting for Monday morning, waiting to hear from Chris… waiting. ILLUSTRATION | JOSEPH NGARI

What you need to know:

  • I am waiting to hear from Chris… waiting.
  • To keep the anxiety from taking over, I have spent most of my time de-cluttering my spaces.
  • I now have three bags full of old clothes, shoes and books I no longer use.
  • I am surveying my loot with satisfaction when my cell phone rings.

It’s Sunday evening and I am passing time in my house, waiting for Monday morning, waiting to hear from Chris… waiting.

To keep the anxiety from taking over, I have spent most of my time de-cluttering my spaces. I now have three bags full of old clothes, shoes and books I no longer use.

I am surveying my loot with satisfaction and contemplating exactly what I fill my now empty closets and shelves with when my cell phone, on the table next to me, rings. I pick it up automatically without even bothering to look at the name on the display. And then my heart skips many beats when I hear that unmistakable, deep voice say: “Hi.”

It’s Chris.

For a few seconds, I don’t know how to react. I want to lead with anger, but I am not sure if this will produce a constructive conversation. But I am so angry at him for disappearing on me! How can I NOT launch into a huge rant?! How do I begin to control this overwhelming urge to tear him a new nostril? And so, confounded by the weight of my feelings and how to express them less explosively, I keep quiet.

“Are you there? Hello?” he asks.

“I’m here,” I say. My voice cracks. I clear it.

“Ok… well, maybe there’s something wrong with the phone connection, I don’t think I can hear most of what you are saying. Let me hang up and call you back.”

ANGRY

Yes, I am angry at him, but no, I do not want him to hang up. He might not call back. What I want is for both of us to sit and stew in my righteous anger.

“No, the phone line is fine,” I say quickly. “It’s just that I haven’t said anything for you to hear.”

“Is everything alright?” he asks, finally cottoning on to the tone of my voice. “You sound upset.”

“I am,” I say flatly. If I attempt to intone I might just cut him apart with the sharp edge of the anger I am feeling.

“What’s happened?” Chris continues. “Is it something I can help with?”

I can’t believe he is being this ignorant! Ooooh, it’s about time I let it rip! “Listen, you drove away on Friday night without even saying goodnight and then you’ve been silent for two days! Not even a phone call!” My tone is rising in spite of my best effort to sound level and mature.

“Uh-huh,” he replies. “And then?”

“WHAT do you MEAN ‘and then’?” I know Chris can’t see me, but that doesn’t stop me from inserting the air quotes with my free hand. “Do you not see what you did?”

“Um…” I hear him take a deep breath, “I get the feeling there is no right way to answer this…”

“Just tell me you understand why I am upset!” Now I am full-on yelling.

“You want the truth!”

“Argh! Chris stop playing games! Do you get it?”

“You want me to say yes? Even if I don’t get it?”

I shake my head. This conversation is going nowhere. “Where have you been all weekend?”

“I was at home-,”

QUESTIONS ANSWERED

Now I can feel the veins start to pop in my head. “You were doing nothing all weekend but sitting around in your house and you didn’t think to at least check up on me?!”

“I’ve been unwell, hun. I must have eaten something bad over dinner, but I have been battling food poisoning all weekend. I wanted to call you but I barely had the energy. And I know you would have wanted to hang out but I didn’t want you to have to nurse me all weekend. You deserve to have a life.”

Like a raging fire doused by a deluge of water, my anger is immediately dissipated by his news. “Oh my God I am so sorry!” I say hastily. “How are you feeling now?”

“Much better, but wait… are you upset because you thought I was avoiding you?” he asks, and I can tell he is genuinely puzzled.

“Yes…” I say, feeling thoroughly ashamed of my hastiness.

“But Liz, why would I want to do that?”

“Because… I don’t know…” I stare at the floor, my shame covering me like a heavy layer.

“Ok. We need to talk. And we can’t do this on the phone. If you’re at home, I’m coming right over.” And he hangs up leaving me unsure whether to be excited about his imminent arrival, or worried about the confrontation we are about to have.