Magnetism: (noun)

1. a physical phenomenon produced by the motion of electric charge, resulting in attractive and repulsive forces between objects.
2. the ability to attract and charm people.

” … And though I’ve heard it all before/ I know you’re telling me the truth/ I know it’s just no use/ but I can’t stay away from you”

I shook my head slightly as I remembered his words. “We’re fucking done.  Just get the fuck out.”  And now he wants to see me again.  He wants to talk “face to face”, he said.  I drove in silence to his house, without the background music and talk show chatter that I so enjoy on my drives.  Even late at night, the New Jersey highways are busy, and I drove virtually on auto pilot; semi-trucks flying past me, cars weaving in and out of my lane, red tail lights streaking off into the distance.  Unblinking, glazed eyes led me down the highway, exit after exit sliding past. Hurt and betrayal still sat in the center of my chest like a bag of wet sand … dull and heavy.  I almost didn’t go see him; I almost had enough strength to tell him no … I wanted to.  I wanted to stand up for myself, for once, and tell him I’d had enough of all of it, but … I hadn’t.  I still hadn’t had enough and I decided that, just like the little seed that is about the break though the soil with a strong green stalk, we were about the break through and bloom.  … and, I had become afraid that the day I decided to end it for good, would be the day he woke up and decided he loved me and was ready to commit to us, and I might ruin it before it had a chance. I knew it was a ridiculous idea, but it was real and rooted.  Oh God, what’s wrong with me? 

I pulled into his driveway and sat there for a moment, my car humming beneath me.  I leaned my head back on the headrest and exhaled as I turned off the engine, bracing myself again for what lay ahead and hating myself for even going.  “We’re fucking done. We’re over. Just get the fuck out.” I blinked away the memory and rubbed my face with my hands.   What he wanted, I didn’t know.  I sat up tall in my seat and flipped my visor down and the white lights around the mirror revealed how awful I looked, and I did.  I had cried a lot in the last few days, again, and I cried before I fell asleep tonight, when I was home.  My eyes were puffy, tired, and sad. I was tired. My heart was tired.  Even though I didn’t want to come tonight, I began to feel that stir of hope again, only because he had called me and the silent treatment he had perfected was over.  Nobody does a silent treatment like him, that’s for sure.  And as usual, I was lapping up the left over milk he placed out in the little saucer, purring around his feet.

I walked to his door and softly knocked, shaking my head at my stupidity of going at all, of being a glutton for punishment.  He opened the door.  “Why’d you knock? You don’t have to knock,” he said.   I shrugged and said, “I can’t just walk in.” “Yes you can, Shannon. You’re always welcome here.  You should know that by now,” he said.  He stepped aside and motioned me in, taking my purse and setting it on the table.  And then, as he always did, he opened his arms and pulled me against him, enfolding me in a hug … but this time, I was so guarded, so uncomfortable that my feet stayed where they were and I stumbled into him because he pulled me in, unwillingly.  I could feel my arms were loose around him, and he felt it too.  I pulled away from him, muttering, “I need to charge my phone,” and I turned my back to him, digging through my purse for the charger.  He walked up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his cheek on the top of my head, exhaling.  I made a move to create space between us by lifting and moving my shoulders.  My back was nestled against his chest and his arms tightened slightly around me, holding me. “No,” whispered. “Stop. Just relax.”  With a shake of my head, I said, “You made it clear how you feel about me the other night at the restaurant.”  He turned his face and kissed the top of my head and sighed.  I continued, ” … you said you don’t love me. You left me once, came back and then announced that, sorry Shannon, I don’t love you and -” He turned me around so I was facing him. “… you said you don’t think you will ever love me.  … I … I don’t … what do you want?”  I tilted my face up to look into his eyes.  “I can’t stop thinking about you yelling ‘I don’t love you’ … it plays over and over on a loop in my head.  I feel so stupid.  I’m so stupid, I just …”  I shook my head as I ran out of words.  I dropped my head and knotted my fingers together, feeling awkward and stupid and eternally unwelcome, utterly defeated.  I was up against the showgirl and she and I were truly apples and oranges. Period.  He interrupted me with a shake of his head.  “Shannon,” he said, “Disregard everything I said.  I was mad that you looked through my phone again. Just disregard what I said when I was angry.”  I searched his face.  What?  “You shouldn’t have looked through my phone.  … none of this would have happened if you hadn’t looked through my phone.” None of this would have happened if I hadn’t looked through your phone? 

The black sludge was bubbling up again, slowly rising like thick black sticky tar.  I stared at him, with no expression.  He looked back me.  He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “You caused hurt and pain you could have avoided, Shannon. Those emails were not for your eyes.”  Still silent, my heart began thumping in my hollow chest and I was getting angrier and angrier. “You can only interpret one side, Shannon.  You don’t know what happened between us,” he said.  “Happened? I think you mean happening. Present tense.” I interrupted.  He sighed. “No, Baby,” he said.  “I told you it’s over.”  “You chased her,” I reminded him. “While I was up in the attic of the restaurant, vacuuming fiberglass with a face mask on, you were missing her and decided to email her … at the very moment while I was slaving away for you, doing anything I could to win you and keep you. God, I’m such an idiot.”  I covered my face with my hands and exhaled.  “Would you ever dream of asking her to do that kind of sweaty, filthy work? No way you would. And according to what you said to her, she’s ‘too beautiful’ and ‘too special’ for that sort of experience.”  Squaring off, he said, “See? You didn’t need to know anything I said to her, and now you’re pissing me off, Shannon. You’re making me mad. I was going to tell you that I forgive you for looking at my phone, that I understand why you did, but now you’re making me mad.  You had no business-”  “YOU LIED TO ME! AGAIN!” I yelled, cutting off his smug, pontificating words. “Are you serious?? None of this would have happened if I hadn’t looked at your phone? … No, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t LIED TO ME AGAIN and gone behind my BACK, again! You’re blaming me?”  “Yeah,” he said, nodding his head. “You looked through my phone, through my personal words to someone that you had no business seeing. Your pain is your own fault.”  I just stared at him, floored.  I was utterly floored. “You went behind my  back,” I said,  “and continued to make contact, continued to try to make arrangements to see her. You emailed her over Thanksgiving, gushing how much you missed her, how you couldn’t get your head together, while I was thanking God that you came back … while I was up until 4 am making desserts for your family. And then you went behind my back and went down the shore to meet her, and she stood you up, and it devastated you. … Where was I? What lie did you serve me over that one? What if she hadn’t stood you up? What if you guys resumed your bullshit? What would you have done with me? Would you have just dumped me again, like last time? You saw first hand what you did to me. You saw what happened to my body, what happened to my heart, my mind, my trust in you, and you did it again?? … see … that’s the problem. Right there.  Don’t you see? You don’t care what it does to me. The risk of crushing me again doesn’t phase you at all.  …. but, oh, you made sure to tell her that you only want her ‘happy and safe‘ and you hope you are there when her ‘faith in people returns’, because your precious delicate showgirl had also been lied to by a scumbag man, but oh!! Here you are to the RESCUE to mend her heart.  Right? … never mind, of course, what you did to ME, how you stepped on my heart and ground it under your heel. Yeah.”  I nodded my head at him.  ” You told her that you would never hurt her or lie to her … but Shannon, yeah, she can go straight to hell. Fuck Shannon and her loyalty and trust in me. I only care about you … my beautiful showgirl. ”

He stood there, with his hands on his hips, his head tilted, just looking at me. “Honest to God … I don’t understand,” I said. “Why did you come back to me at all? You know damn well you’re not over her. You’ll never be over her.”  “You shouldn’t have gone through my phone, Shannon. I’ve never gone through your phone. How would you like it if I did that to you?”  Wordlessly, I walked over and unplugged my phone from the charger and held it out. “Take it,” I said, shaking the phone at him. “Here.  And go through my purse. You want my email password? I couldn’t care less if you hired an entire team to go through my whole life … it would be of no consequence to me, because I have nothing hidden from you. ”  “You shouldn’t have interfered in my business.  She and I are none of your business,” he said. “Sorry,” he said over his shoulder, walking away, “but this is totally self inflicted. You only hurt yourself. You went where you didn’t belong.”

He walked out of the kitchen into his living room and sat on the couch, reaching for the remote and clicking the t.v. on.  For the first time, as if someone pulled out a rubber stopper, my love for him drained out, and that love was replaced with liquid bitter hate.  I hated him at that moment.   “And by the way, I’m so glad I looked at your phone.  Seriously.  I’m not even sorry. You tricked me again, lied to me again, convinced me again that you weren’t back at it, and I bought it … for a little while.  But looking at your phone was the only way to prove that you’re a liar and that you were back at it with her. Very much so. So, yeah, I’m glad I looked.”  He shook his head.  “I can never trust you again,” he said.  He looked at me, tilted his head and said it again. “I can never trust you again.”  Unbelievable.  At that moment, I exhaled and dropped my head, hands on my hips and I laughed.  “Okay,” I said. “You’re more fucked up than I am. … and that’s quite a feat, by the way.”  I walked over to the table and got my purse, sliding it on to my shoulder. “Well … this was fun. Thanks for the head trip and say hello to your beautiful showgirl. Congratulate her for me. She wins.”

He stood up. “Where are you going?” he said.  Picking up my keys, I said, ” … I’m going home.”  “Why?” he said. “Stay. We’re not fighting, you’re fighting. I’m not fighting.  Why are you leaving?”  I just stared at him, blankly, trying to interpret what he said. Why? What do you mean, Why?  “Because you just told me this was all my fault, excusing yourself from any responsibility, and … why would I stay when you don’t love me? Why would I stay when you’re with her?”  “I’m not with her,” he argued.  “Well, in your heart, you are.” I said.  “How do you know what’s in my heart?”  I stared at him. What? I was getting confused again.  “Shannon … do you see her here?” He dramatically looked around with his arms outstretched.  “You’re here. I want to be with you. That’s why I asked you to come over. I am sorry I hurt you. I am.”  Confusion and fog was closing in on me and my heart was very rapidly softening. My resolve to be my own woman and walk away was dissolving by the second.  My desire for his attention and love and acceptance was greater than my courage.  He walked up to me and hugged me, and it felt like love. It felt like acceptance. It felt like he cared about me, and I knew he did. He held my face and ran his thumbs over the puffiness under my eyes. “You’ve been crying,” he said.  My eyes welled up. “Yes, I’ve been crying a lot since that night.”  “Don’t cry anymore,” he whispered.  “You held your head in your hands and yelled that you didn’t love me … and then you told me that you love her.” I said.  He closed his eyes for a moment and said, “Shannon, please, I already told you … disregard that night. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”   He hugged me and  held my head against his chest.   Inhaling his scent and melting back down, I unfolded and absorbed him all over again.

“Is she gone?” I asked, pulling away to look at him. “Is she?” “Yes,” he said. “A life with her would have been a disaster. I would have lost everything if I had stayed in that relationship, that I know. It’s over.”  I searched his eyes for even a flicker of falsehood, but I couldn’t find any.  “She’s gone because she dumped you again? Or because … ” “Shannon, I already said it: You’re here tonight. Not her. I’ve never ever gone back to an ex-girlfriend. You’re the exception. She’s gone because I don’t want that relationship. It was not good.”  I extracted myself from his arms and stood back. “Listen to me,” I said. “Listen.” “I’m listening,” he answered.  “I do not want to be with anyone who doesn’t want to be with me.” “I know,” he said. “I never wanted you because of your money or anything like that,” “Shannon, please,” he said with a shake of his head. “Listen!” I said, sharply.  He tilted his head and raised both hands, in a gesture of full attention.  “If she contacts you again and you go behind my back again … if you lie to me again … just, just don’t. For once, just be honest and leave me first.  I mean it.  It’s okay … if you want her, then fine.  But don’t do us both. Please.”  He held my gaze, saying nothing.  “If you want out, you’re free to go. But no more lies. Choose her, fine. Choose me, even better. But no more double dipping.  It’s killing me. And … and … ” I shook my head and whispered, “It’s making me hate you.”  He walked back over to me and moved my hair off of my shoulder and kissed me. “It’s only you,” he said. “I promise. Just you. You’re my girl.”  Wow. He never says things like that.  I looked up at him and then dropped my forehead on his chest, and he kissed the top of my head.  “Besides,” he said, “It’s Christmas time and I have something for you. It’s in the mail and I don’t want to cancel my order.”  “Jelly of the month?” I asked, clasping my hands. “No, but that would’ve been cheaper!”  I looked at him.  ” … really? You got me something for Christmas?” “Of course,” he said. “You’ll love it. I’m quite excited to give it to you.”  Wow.  This is absolutely not like him, at all.  He’s always exceedingly generous, but he’s not a “surprise” kind of guy. He must be serious about staying. He must really mean it.  “Please don’t hurt me again.” I blurted out, surprising myself.  He stopped and hugged me again. He didn’t answer me but he held me.  That’s ok, this is how he communicates.  I believe him. It’s over. It’s all over.  He’s back. I just know it. 

A few days later, sitting on my couch, he handed me a large box and said, “Merry Christmas, Baby.”  It was December 23rd and we were about to leave for his parent’s house, to attend their annual Christmas Eve party.  I was very grateful to still be a part of his wonderful family, and I looked forward to this weekend.  I ran my hands over the box and looked at him. ” … you didn’t have to,” I said. “Open it,” he whispered, his eyes shining, clearly excited to see me open this gift. Carefully, I lifted the flaps of the box and reached inside, pulling out a beautiful Canon EOS digital camera, with all of the accessories I could ask for. It was absolutely beautiful and such a surprise, that I burst into tears, so excited to finally have a real camera.  “It’s a Canon,” I breathed. “It’s … my dad had a Canon. It was his favorite … it was his camera of choice, oh … ”  “I know,”  he said, smiling. Tears tumbled down my face at the thought behind this present.  My heart was overflowing.  “Once you get your feet wet, we’ll get you some more lenses,” he said.  I gasped and jumped up, and ran to my bedroom to get my fathers camera bag. He was a professional photographer and that bug had bitten me, too. I brought it back and opened it. “Look!” I said, “Before dad got sick, he gave me his camera and his lenses. Maybe they fit!” “Not sure, Baby, ” he said. “Dad’s camera is a film camera … but maybe it’s recent enough … let’s see.”  And sure enough, those lenses and the brass electronic sensors lined up to my new Canon, clicked in place and fit.  “Oh wow,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s really something.” “Christmas is my dad’s birthday,” I said, looking at him. “I know,” he said, reaching over and moving my hair off of my shoulder and wiping my tears.  “I remember.”  I gingerly ran my fingers over the camera and shook my head as I looked in the box and took in all of the contents: a tripod, lens filters, a strap, cleaners, sd cards, on and on. I just couldn’t believe it.  I held the camera up to my eye, and focused on an ornament on my tree.  It was a sharp and clear as anything, and as I clicked and heard the shutter snap, my heart swelled up right there in my chest.  I could not have been happier with anything in the world, because his heart was in this gift.  This camera wasn’t just a camera, it was for me.  It was personal.  And it meant the world.  He took the camera from my hands and gently set it on the coffee table. He took my hands and pulled me against him, there on the couch. He kissed my forehead and then he kissed my mouth slowly and sweetly. “I love you so much,” I breathed as I kissed him again. He held me tighter against him and even though he didn’t say it back,  I absolutely knew things were different now.  He was with me. He wanted to be with me. You can’t give a gift like that if you don’t love someone. I was forcing myself to ignore the ache of still not hearing “I love you” back, forcing myself to ignore the fear that his heart was still elsewhere, and scolding myself for worrying about that. It was incredibly selfish of me to want an I Love You after receiving such a gift. I was immediately sorry inside and shifted gears: It was almost January and things were going to be different. This would be our year.  He’s staying. He won’t leave. I’m the only one. He said so. 

To be continued ….