Those Healing Hands of Time

I'll get over you by clinging to

Those healing hands of time.

Willie Nelson

The Time It All Started

Have you ever had one of those days when white was black, green meant stop and one plus one equaled zero?

Well, I have and it all happened one evening with Christina, my girlfriend of over a year. I had planned for it to be the night we moved from friendship to commitment and I could barely contain myself.

We had a very comfortable relationship and spent much of our free time together. She was willing to try nearly anything I challenged her with. Once she took a zipline through a forest canopy with me and she also went backpacking with me for her first time ever. I remembered how she was a real trooper and carried her backpack the entire distance without a whimper, how she ate the freeze-dried stew with gusto and peed behind the bushes as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But what I remembered the most on that trip was her pulling me down below our tent to a meadow overlooking a steep valley and the mountains on the far side. There she seductively peeled her clothes off and we made sweet love in the great outdoors as the sun slowly set in the west, that is until the mosquitoes came out in force.

Our time together at home was pleasant as well. She didn't live with me, although I had offered it to her on several occasions with her simply saying she 'wasn't ready for that.' We still got together several nights a week either at her place or mine for dinner, a movie on the tube or, most importantly, for some time together in bed.

I couldn't believe how lucky I believed myself to be when we started having sex. She was an enthusiastic bedpartner both in giving and receiving sexual attention. Although she wasn't into heavy kinky sex, she enjoyed the occasional waltz on the wild side. We did some light bondage and role playing and we had an assortment of toys to keep things varied and interesting.

Christina was absolutely the sexiest creature alive. She was about average height and had a reasonably trim figure with enough curves to remind you she was all female. I peeked at her bra one night to see she wore nice C-cups but what was really interesting was her right nipple. It was inverted most of the time, unlike her left, but when she got excited, the right nipple would pop out to match it's sister. She was embarrassed about it but I convinced her it was sexy as hell and called it her 'sex-o-meter' as it always told me when she was getting excited. She also sported nice curves on her hips and ass.

But what was truly special was from the neck up. Chris was a smart, funny person. She always kept me on my toes and loved to debate issues of regional and national importance. More than once she'd simply take the opposite view just to make me think harder about my beliefs. Above her neck was also her cute, dimpled smile and her sparkling eyes. Her hair was naturally curly and she wore it in a loose mop-like cut with a pile of curls on the top of her head with the hair being much shorter over her ears and neck. Above all, what drove me insane were the two or three little curls which always seemed to drop over her forehead giving her a cute, pixie-like appearance.

All in all, I was madly in love with her. I couldn't believe how happy I was with her and couldn't image not being with her for the rest of my life. My plans for the evening included a nice dinner at a chi-chi restaurant and then I wanted to bring her back to my place to propose. Perhaps in the back of my mind I was a bit nervous about proposing, after all, she had already declined to live together and she would become vague if I talked about how I felt about her. I thought perhaps she wanted a ring before living with me but a little voice in the back of my mind suggested I not do anything public. I certainly wasn't going to have one of those crazy videoed proposals that seem to be so popular nowadays.

While wearing the sexiest little dress imaginable, she arrived by Lyft at my place before I escorted her to my new car and drove her to the restaurant. Dinner was superb and featured some of the chef's best French recipes and a scrumptious dessert. Two small glasses of wine each put us in a festive mood before we headed back to my place. There I had a bottle of her favorite chenin blanc cooling and some nice, soft, sensual music was loaded on my sound system.

She was in good spirits and plopped down on the end of my sofa while I pulled the cork on the wine. I handed her a glass, took mine and held it up in a silent toast. She smiled back at me as she sipped her wine. I cleared my throat and with butterflies fluttering crazily in my chest, I began to speak.

"Chris, you know I'm crazy about you, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know."

"I mean, I hope you're happy with me, too. We, uh, we seem to enjoy each other, doing things together and all and, uh..." I paused.

"What are you saying, Bryan?"

"I'd like to make our relationship stronger, a commitment, you know."

"Are you asking for me to move in again?"

"Sort of. Uh, I guess I've got to tell you I love you, deeply love you and want to live my life with you so I want to..."

"Wait! Hold on a sec. Bry, are you going to ask something big? I mean, like a proposal?"

"Well, yeah, I really want to commit to you and..."

"Please, don't. Don't ask me to marry you. I don't want to have to turn you down."

"Look, I've got a ring in my pocket and I thought we'd..."

"No. Just don't go there. Please stop."

"But why? I thought we were getting along great and..."

"Yes, we are getting along great. I can tell you you're the best guy I've ever been with but..."

"But then why don't you want to take that next step?"

"Look, Bry, we've talked about me and my life. I grew up in a broken home. Mom has been married and divorced three times and there were some awful boyfriends there in between. And she's with another loser right now. I never met my dad. Relationships in my family are not designed to last and..."

"And I call 'bullshit.' Maybe your mother didn't know how to make things last but that doesn't mean you don't and that we can't make things work. Why not just give it a try? Maybe even a live together thing for a while. I'll be willing to take the whole proposal off the table but let's at least make an attempt."

She looked at me with tears in her eyes as she slowly shook her head before taking another swallow of her wine. "Look, Honey, you're great. Let's just keep going the way we are. We're happy. Having fun. Doing interesting things together."

"But why not make a commitment and we can still do those things together?"

"I made myself a promise many years ago: I'll not get married. I'll not get tied down in any form or fashion. I plan on meeting lots of people, have lots of relationships and..."

"So, you wanna screw around? Am I just a friend with benefits until someone else comes along and then he'd be the next one? Is that it?" I asked with sharp exasperation in my voice.

"Honey, please, let's talk about this calmly. No, you're not just a friend with benefits. You're a great guy and I've enjoyed getting to know you. You're fun. You're smart. You're not at all bad looking and sex with you is beyond great," she smiled, "But I can't commit to you. I can't commit to anyone, ever."

"How long was this thing going to last, anyways? Were you gonna toss me to the curb at some random time when someone else came along? Huh?"

"No. Oh, I don't know. I hadn't thought that part out yet. Look, Bry, I can't do this, this getting tied down. I don't want to be married. I don't want kids with all the shit that's tearing our country apart and the climate going to hell. I don't want to curse a child of mine to live in that kind of world. So, I'll be an emotional nomad, drifting from person to person until I'm old and wrinkled. I'll die alone but I won't pull anyone down with me."

"I'd be willing to take kids off the table but it sounds like you're telling me our relationship is doomed to fail at some point. Period. Right?"

"Umm-hmm."

"Get out!"

"What? Bryan, we need to talk things over and..."

"Get out. What part of 'get out' don't you understand?"

"Honey, I know you're upset but we can work on this and..."

"Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. House. Now!"

"Bry..."

"I mean it! Git. Go. And don't let the door hit your fat ass on the way out." I admit that last part was cruel. She was always a bit nervous about her ass, believing it was too big. It wasn't, not at all. It was shapely and a bit full but definitely not fat. But I was hurting and somehow I felt the primal need to strike back and hurt her, emotionally at least.

"Honey, that was totally uncalled for! You know I really like you and we can still have lots of good times together."

"Go! Or shall I call the cops to drag you out of here? I never want to see you again, never want to hear from you. Just Go!"

With tears streaming down her face, she turned and opened the door before turning back to me and saying "I'm so sorry, Bryan."

"Go!" I roared at her as I stood up grabbing the wine bottle. She hurriedly closed the door behind her barely in time to miss the bottle crashing into it.

One Minute

For the next minute I stood there totally numb. No, that's not right. I was totally pissed. I had gone from wanting to propose to ending up swearing at her, needling her biggest insecurity and kicking her out of my place without giving her a ride to her home. Yet all I could think of was what a bigger mess it would have been if she had liked red wine.

One Hour

I left the mess to clean up later and went to the liquor cabinet, pulled out an unopened bottle of scotch and poured out a full tumbler of booze. It burned down my throat but didn't dull the pain in my heart. The next tumbler and the next burned as well. By the fourth or fifth one I was rapidly getting sloshed and I couldn't feel the pain in my throat quite so much, but the pain in my heart was only marginally less. I don't believe I was awake very long and as I drifted off I had a passing thought that maybe I would die of alcohol poisoning. But who would have cared, anyways? I know I sure didn't.

One Day

With the sunlight streaming into my west-facing windows, an incessant pounding noise woke me the next afternoon. Three thoughts ran through my mind. First, I apparently didn't die from acute alcohol poisoning. Second, I couldn't figure out who would be making such loud noises on a Sunday. Third, I had the world's most wicked headache ever. I staggered up to the bathroom and emptied my bladder and as I stood there with my eyes closed, I realized I could see colors pulsating in time with the pounding. It was only then I realized the noise was all in my head. I took a few swallows of water only to empty my stomach right into the toilet. I staggered into the kitchen and put some water on to make an herbal tea. After a few calming sips, my stomach settled down and I popped four ibuprofen and eventually finished a second cup of tea.

The headache settled down and I was even able to eat a small bit. My phone vibrated over on the end table and after staggering over to get it, I saw there were five texts and four voice mails, all from Christina. The first lines of the texts all included the word 'sorry' but I found myself not wanting to read the rest of her pathetic apologies. I deleted all the texts and voice mails before blocking her number, something which actually helped me feel a tiny bit better.

I knew I'd be useless at work so I texted my supervisor to tell him I was taking an emergency personal leave for the next week and followed it up with a quick email giving suggestions for my team to work on in my absence. Lastly I sent an official email to our HR department letting them know of my sudden absence. Knowing I had covered all my bases and I wouldn't be fired, I drank several large glasses of water and crashed back into bed.

One Week

For the next seven days I pretty much wallowed in self-pity and episodes of raging anger. I would spend time remembering the fun times we had together only to be reminded those times were history and I'd sink into another spiral of depression and anger. By Thursday I realized I needed to do something cathartic so I purposefully went through my place removing any and all vestiges of her existence. Pictures tossed into the shredder helped with my catharsis while all momentos and gifts were tossed into the trash. She had a few pieces of clothing and I know I should have sent them to her but I wanted to do nothing that would run the risk of having to talk with her again. The local thrift shop ended up getting them but I'm sure the little teenage volunteer who smiled and thanked me for the donation wondered why I was so grouchy.

Nights were the main problem. During the day I tried to keep myself fairly busy and my mind occupied, but by evening the demons came roaring back. I would sit there on the sofa where she had rejected me and review every little thing I could about our relationship to try and figure out what I had missed in our communication. I kept coming back to her refusing to live together and I should have known something was screwy. Although I didn't get shitfaced like I did the night we split, I admit I drank far too much every evening. By Friday I knew I had to back off on the booze. I did a mini-drying out on the weekend and tried to brace myself for work on Monday.

One Month

It actually felt good to get back to work. There I could submerge myself in projects that took my mind off of Christina, at least for a little bit during the day. I guess I was pretty moody because within two days my supervisor came into my office and closed the door.

"Alright, Bryan, what's up with you anyway?"

"Personal shit. That's all."

"It must be big. When I last saw you 2 weeks ago you were on cloud nine, happy and a joy to be around. Now, not so much. Actually, not at all."

"Yeah, I guess I'd better perk up a little..."

"We're all worried about you. Uh, what happened?"

"Christina and I split up."

"What? You're shittin' me. You two were perfect together."

"Yeah, well, apparently not. I wanted to move things along, you know, formally and she shut me down. Said she'd never get permanently involved with anybody. That led to some pretty harsh words and I basically kicked her out."

"Is there any hope for maybe working things out?"

"Nope. Not at all. Different fundamental philosophies of life, I'd call it. By the way, I've blocked her on my phone and social media. If she calls me here, she needs to be told I am 'not available.' OK?"

"Sure. I'll pass the word around. Uh, could Karen and I have you over for dinner some night?"

"Yeah, maybe down the line but right now I don't think I'd be very good company. Oh, and don't even think about setting me up with anyone. I need some time to lick my wounds."

"Gotcha. Sure thing."

-----

I'd been back at work for a couple of weeks when I found something Christina had hidden in my desk after a late-night visit months before. I had been working alone one night when she came by. I heard some knocking on the main door and found her there with a cute little dress and a wicked, promising smile. Once we were back in my office she proceeded slip off her panties before sitting on my desk next to my computer and spreading her legs. I was busy, the project was a little behind but I was only human and I was crazy about her. I dropped to my knees and proceeded to dine at the Y to her delight. After her screams of release echoed two or three times around the empty office, she grabbed my belt, pulled down the zipper and returned the favor. As I was catching my breath, she stood up, brushed down her dress and walked out of the office without a word.

I didn't think about the episode again until I opened my bottom drawer and found the panties she'd left behind. Had I found them earlier, well, I probably would have smelled them, kept them or whatever. But finding them so soon after our split was like a knife to my heart. My mind went in a tailspin and I couldn't concentrate on my work. About an hour later my PA, a very sweet and cute young lady name Elise, knocked on my door.

"Bryan, I've sent you two emails about the Henderson project and you've not answered..."

"Yeah. So?" I responded way too harshly. I mean, it wasn't her fault my love life was in the crapper and I'd found the panties.

"Well, uh, I kinda needed to know the answer since they've called now twice this morning and, uh..."

"What the fuck am I, a robot? Tell 'em to give me a couple of days!"

"But, uh, you promised them that you'd have it ready by yesterday and uh..."

"Look. Quit buggin' me. Tell 'em something, anything, but I need to be left alone. Get it?"

"Alright," she said in a pissed off tone and left, slamming the door behind her.

Fuck, I was an idiot! Elise was the best ever and here I was dumping on her because of my own issues. I knew I was a jerk but I was still hurting and didn't know how to get over it. I guess I was still in the anger phase of grief, but my anger had been directed at the wrong person.

About thirty minutes later Elise came into my office without knocking and dropped an envelope on my desk before turning around to leave.

"Uh, what's this?"

"My letter of resignation."

"No. Please, you can't be serious!"

"Oh, trust me, I'm serious. I don't know what your issue is, but I'm not putting up with your shit anymore."

"Elise, please, please, don't do this. I need you. I know I fucked up and I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. But please, give me another chance."

"What is going on? I heard we weren't to take any calls from a Christina. Does that have something to do with how you've been behaving, or should I say misbehaving, lately?"

"Look, can I talk with you? You're practically the only woman in my life now and I need some advice."

"I'll talk so long as you buy the drinks and after you finish the Henderson paperwork."

"Deal. I promise. Tell 'em it'll be there by four pm."

I worked like a dog, skipped lunch and was able to shoot them the work by three thirty. I breathed a big sigh of relief before making a quick call to a fancy hotel/restaurant and typing up a brief little note which I slipped into my pocket. Next, I opened the drawer, took the panties out, stuffed them in a big manila envelope and dumped it in a locked shred bin. I figured the shredding company would never figure out why some bits of cloth were in their huge recycle system but I was able to forget the panties once and for all.

Right at four forty-five, Elise popped in with no emotion on her face saying, "You owe me a drink and a major, groveling apology. Let's go."

I had never seen her so in charge which was actually kind of a nice change. I nodded, shut down my computer and asked, "Your call. Where to?"

"Stefano's."

Not a bad choice for her as I knew I would have to pay through the nose for drinks at one of the fanciest establishments in town. Stefano's was located in a refurbished mansion with off-site valet parking. Upon arrival one hands the valet the car keys and a credit card and is given a small, plastic card with a number. Inside you place the number on the table and money, charges and tips are never discussed. A small menu of current wines, exotic beers and fancy mixed drinks but without prices is available upon arrival. After you leave, the little plastic card is given back to the valet who brings around the car and returns the credit card. You never know what the bill is until the credit card bill comes in. It is usually a quite an expensive surprise but on that evening I knew it would be worth it, no matter the cost.