Buried Feelings

It's been 37 hours since I heard from Kris, since he left my apartment after he tried to kiss me, no, he did kiss me; no trying there, and I would be lying if I said I could not stop thinking about it. I called Justin last night and he took me to lunch today, I didn't elaborate on what happened when Kris came by, but just that it was an uncomfortable experience. Going to lunch with him grounded me, Justin has always had this calming affect on me even if it made me feel like I was back in my life as I knew up until this past Thursday. But as soon as we left the restaurant my mind traveled back to Saturday, to how I felt and how he made me feel.

On the drive home it is all I can think about, I decide that we need to talk, he clearly has no idea how I have been feeling and even though I am not sure he cares, I need him to know. I realize that I never have gotten the closure I needed, and who knows what will happen when I get it, but I decide I need it. I practice how I am going to say things to him, I decide a monologue will be best because I just don't feel like any explanation of his actions will matter at this point. He had three years to explain, shit, he had three years to say anything!

As I walk up to my condo, I take a deep breath and decide I am going to have a big glass of wine and do some yoga in the living room. That is, until I see that my living room is covered in boxes.

"What the hell..." I say as I walk around and check the boxes, they are all impeccably labeled and I quickly figure out that this isn't a new neighbor moving in who had their boxes put in the wrong unit, nope, these belong to Kris, of course.

I send him a quick text to let him know that his "six" boxes are really a healthy baker's dozen and that I no longer have use of my living room. I begin to shift them around so that I can at least sit in my armchair and see the TV, and I stumble upon a box labeled "Misc things" which surprises me, because Kris is one of the most organized people I know, he is where I picked up my organization habits, and a miscellaneous box just doesn't fit him. Before I know it I open the box and begin to sift through it. At first, there is nothing really interesting in the box, just some tacky man decorations, a few placemats that never had their tags taken off, some random coffee table books, and then I find something.

It's a scarf, but not just any scarf, it's my scarf, a scarf I thought I had lost years ago. It was a scarf that I had worn on our first date and he loved the color, it quickly became my favorite scarf and then somewhere in early spring 2010, I lost it. But here it is. I keep sorting through his stuff, wondering if that was just a one-off find or if there were a few other things. When everything is said and done, I find a picture frame that has a picture of us from the Cup parade, the letter K collage I had made for him out of pictures of us, and our picture that we took with the Cup at Pat's the day after the parade. Why did he keep all this? Instantly I felt guilty for invading his privacy, I had all but scratch out his eyes after he did the same to me, except now I did it without him even knowing. My phone goes off.

"Really? Shit, sorry. The lady who packed for me told me she didn't think it would be more than that, I can have them picked up and brought to the hotel. I don't want to impose on you."

I could tell he was walking on eggshells after the 2am lecture he got from he yesterday, part of me wanted to suggest that was a great idea but then I thought about what I had just done and the guilt beat that out.

"Don't worry about, I overreacted and organized them so I can function now." I respond, I am so confused how I feel, I feel the need to talk to him now, if not now, soon. I wait fifteen minutes without a response and decide to send another text.

"Is there anyway we can talk? In person? Maybe go out for dinner? I have a few things I need to clarify now that you are back and are in my life, in whatever capacity this is." I hold my breath for what seems like an eternity before he responds.

"Sure, but we are on a road trip for the 10 days so I don't think I will be coming back to Chicago during that time, can it wait until then? I would like to hear whatever it is in person too"

Shit. What a long road trip, I pull up the schedule and look to see if any of the games are close enough that I can go to, then shake that head out of my mind. You are not his girlfriend, anymore, or yet, again, or maybe never.

"Okay, let me know when is best for you when you get back, maybe brunch on that Sunday depending on your practice schedule?" Brunch is good, brunch is friendly, and I love french toast so that should keep me calm and focused. That and the mimosas.

"Sure, that works for me. If I don't talk to you, have a good Thanksgiving with your family."

Oh. So he doesn't want to talk to me until then? I furrow my eyebrows and frown, I don't know what I wanted but this isn't that.