To Quench Our Love Pt. 01

She could be a little cheesy too. She teased me relentlessly when she realized that I still had a landline, but insisted on getting the number. She put the number in her phone but wondered whether she should stay true to the spirit of landlines and just memorize it. The next day she left me a voicemail when she knew I would be at work to tell me that the landline needed someone to use it so I should be grateful for this present. The following day she left me a voicemail that she was bored after school and messing with a landline was the best thing she could think of. On the third day, she left me a long confessional voicemail that she loved my landline because she could leave me messages she knew I wouldn't get for a while. She left me a total of eleven voicemails, some silly, some heartfelt, one mocking me because she was on winter break and I wasn't, and one over-the-top apology for mocking me about winter break.

But most of all, Polly took every moment for what it was. If we were hiking, she noted every sensation of nature around her. If we were having a light conversation, she was silly and flirty. If we had a deep conversation, she dove into things headfirst, listened carefully to me, and formed detailed replies. I had come up one class short of a philosophy minor in college, and Polly's curiosity and wit rejuvenated the interest that had once died. She had little philosophy experience, but took what I said and made connections that we could run with for hours.

And though she disagreed, I insisted that her ability to be present and fully engaged was what made our sex so good. Because when we were together, there was nothing but her and me. She was doing nothing but creating a physical connection to somebody she was so deeply entwined with emotionally. She had had exactly half as many partners as I had, four to my eight including each other, and she actually told me why the sex with them was not good. I posed that maybe I was just the guy she had figured things out with. She didn't think so, but couldn't give another reason except maybe that she had finally found a good birth control. Yet she was so confident in bed, so present and lively that I couldn't believe I had any role in making our sex good except that I wasn't being weird. Being with Polly was so comforting that I freely told her my number, something I had previously sworn off. Every prior time a partner got that information, the sex would fall off a cliff, something I attributed to them either thinking I was experienced and so should be better, or thinking I was inexperienced so there was no way the sex could be good. But with Polly, I knew that hypothesis wouldn't bear out and I was right. We eventually ran out of energy to go at it for hours, but the quality never dropped off and our heads were never in the wrong place.

That conversation on our first formal date was the closest we got to "what are we" or the L-word or the exclusivity talk. But we were so affectionate and spent so much time together that there was clearly no way to be non-exclusive. We did talk about spending Christmas together, a holiday that Polly occasionally went home for but not this year so that her roommates could go and she could watch Tumble. She was going to go between Christmas and New Year's to avoid travel chaos.

But all that changed the Sunday before Christmas. We had spent the previous Friday together but parted on Saturday because she had a tradition of cleaning when school got out for winter break. So I got to her house Sunday morning around nine to pick her up for a hike. Lauren answered the door saying, "She asked me to send you back to her room."

"Is everything OK?" I asked.

"She'll tell you."

Her bedroom door was open, and from the hall I saw Polly flying around her room, dropping clothes into a suitcase open on her bed. She noticed me before I said anything and threw a shirt at her suitcase, said my name, and walked over to me with her arms outstretched. Her eyes were puffy. She hugged me tightly until I asked her what was going on. "My dad had a heart attack," she said. "I'm sorry, I should have texted you but it's just been such a crazy morning."

"Don't be, I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "How is he? Are you OK?"

"He's going into surgery. Or maybe he's in. I'm just really hoping he comes out, I'm on the next flight home and I haven't had a second to think," she said as she pulled away from me and went back to packing.

"Do you want me to go with you?" I didn't know what else to say. I realized she had been crying but by now she was buzzing around so much, I didn't know what consolation I could provide. But she stopped at that comment.

"Jack, that's so sweet of you, but we're not there yet."

"When have we ever thought about where we were? I just want to make sure I'm doing everything I can for you, so if you want me there, I'm there. It's my hometown too so it's not like I'm stuck if you have to take care of something or need a break from me."

She smiled, but the smile seemed forced. "No really, don't come. I'd love to be able to have you, but I'd be more worried about you wasting money and being bored. It'll be easier if you stay."

"OK, well do you need me to take care of Tumble?"

"Shit! I forgot about that." That was the first time I had heard her say anything beyond a minor profanity, but she quickly calmed her voice. "I don't want to put you out, I can find someone if you can't."

"Polly, I offered and I'm doing nothing. I love that dog and I want to help you. Do what's easiest for you."

"OK. Thank you. I think it's the morning of the 24th to the morning of the 28th. But do you mind checking with Lauren?"

"No problem. And since I no longer have a date today, can I take you to the airport?"

"Sure, if Lauren's OK with that. Now I've gotta finish packing and you go talk to Lauren."

I found Lauren, who confirmed the schedule for Tumble and made a joke about me replacing her when we discussed the airport ride. I just made a muted face at the joke; the timing seemed a little suspect. I went back and stood at attention in Polly's doorway, but all she needed from me was to move when she had to grab something from the bathroom. Once we got to my car, she said to me, "Jack, I just want you to know, I don't mean to cut you out. I'm just really stressed out and it was just stressing me out more to think about whether I'd be stressing you out."

"That's all fine," I said. "I'm here, whatever you need, and if you're uncomfortable asking me for something, well, you don't have to be but I'm not insulted if you don't ask."

We were driving by now and she didn't respond. I glanced over and she was resting her head on the sash of the seatbelt, something I had done as a kid but outgrown. Eventually she spoke up. "I thought about you all morning," she said.

I didn't respond, I didn't know what to say. She continued once my silence was clear. "All I could think was how I wanted to be with you. And then I thought that I should be thinking about my dad, and then again how I wanted you there, and then how it was too soon to put this all on you."

"It's not too soon," I said, but she didn't seem to hear.

"I picked up my phone like a dozen times to call you. Half the time I wanted to call and sob and beg you to hurry over, and the other half I wanted to just say something came up, no hike, talk to you later." She paused for a second then continued, "Thank you for being so great this morning, and I'm happy you don't think it's too soon. But right now, I can't control what my brain is telling me."

"Don't worry," I said by force of habit. I quickly corrected myself. "Well worry, do what you do, but I just want to be on record, all I care about is making this as easy for you. So you can cut me out or call me every five minutes, just whatever you need."

She didn't say anything but I saw her shift out of the corner of my eye. I glanced over to her and she was still leaning into her seatbelt, but looking toward me with loving eyes. I wanted to gaze back but I was driving. She was already acting out of character, I could see the attempts at the communication that she was so proud of, but the stress was making her ball up. We were mostly quiet on the ride to the airport and I said goodbye to her on the sidewalk with a short kiss and a long hug.

I spent the day puttering about. I reminded myself that the relationship was new, but I couldn't help the feeling that today I really wanted to hike with her, or fly home with her, whereas in past relationships a free weekend day would have been a reprieve from the obligation. I did worry a bit about her dad, even though I had never met him. But in the evening I got the call that he was doing alright, the worst was over. We spoke quickly, just enough time to express relief and say our miss-yous before Polly got back to her family.

I got a surprise at work the next day when one of the engineers, a middle-aged woman named Nikki, asked me if I had any Christmas plans. "Just taking care of my girlfriend's dog," I answered. I guess she wasn't my girlfriend, but calling her something else would be too complicated.

"Oh that explains why you've been so much friendlier the last few weeks," Nikki responded.

"Was it that obvious?" I asked.

"Maybe not to everyone. But you did seem like you didn't want to be here."

"It's weird," I said, "you move for a job you desperately need, but there wasn't really any point to anything because I had nothing else."

"Till you find a girl," she quipped.

I laughed. "I guess so. Everything did seem more tolerable once we reconnected. We went to high school together."

"So you aren't going back home for Christmas even though she is?"

"It wasn't planned, her dad had a heart attack yesterday."

"Oh I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, he should be OK though."

"Well, I thought my niece would like to meet you so I was going to invite you to Christmas dinner, but maybe that's not a good idea."

I laughed again. "I appreciate the invitation, but I'm good. Her dog and my cat are great company."

Nikki went back to work and I picked up my phone to text Polly about the encounter. She had already texted me and I had missed the buzz. Just a text that her dad was feeling better and she was feeling relieved and enjoying being with her family. I texted her back that that was great to hear and I might finally have a friend at work and I would tell her later. I did tell her the whole story when we talked on the phone, except for the part about calling her my girlfriend. I kept thinking during our short-ish phone call (maybe 15 or 20 minutes) that I could say something, make it official. But I also couldn't. There was the image issue, that now that we were apart I might look like I was locking her down. But there was also the romance issue. I had never had a relationship like this one, and even something as simple as making us official was worthy only of the most perfectly coordinated plan.

Polly texted me a few times each of the following days and called me most nights. She also continued leaving voicemails while I was at work, but now they were shorter and more emotional. In her first one, she said "I don't have jokes today, but knowing that I can talk and you'll hear me later will help me recover." There was one night where I called her first, but it wasn't great timing on my part because she was in the middle of dinner. I wanted to show that she wasn't the only one making an effort. I even joked about that on the call, which got a laugh but she said she didn't mind. She knew my schedule and no one knew hers, so her calling made sense. "Someday," she said, starting off pensively then switching to a tease, "you'll know when to call me and I won't know when to call you. And that will be your test."

I figured out what to do once my turn to take care of Tumble came around. I brought my digital camera - this was back when camera phones were still lousy and I thought I would never have reason for one - and took a few pictures of Tumble playing with me and emailed them to her. On Christmas I did the same but this time showing some of the toys I had gotten him as presents. She replied with a long, emotional email about how she had never appreciated a family dinner so much, that for the first time she looked at the people she loved and knew that things could be gone in an instant. She only missed that Tumble and I weren't there, and that the pictures of Tumble weren't just fun to look at but truly helping her cope as she worked on calming her fears. We didn't talk on the phone that day, but we didn't need to. I made sure to send her pictures of Tumble each day as I was taking care of him.

On the night of the 28th, or properly the morning of the 29th, I was awoken by my landline. I couldn't get to the phone on time, but I picked up my cell and saw Polly had called just a minute before. I called her back. "He's dead!" she sobbed. "He had another heart attack!"

"What? Polly, I'm so sorry." I didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say.

"I'm sorry," she blubbered, "I'm at the hospital, I though I was calm enough to call you."

"No, it's OK. Polly, that's awful, can I do something?" Stupid question, but she didn't seem to be thinking straight either.

"I just wanted to hear you... I knew I couldn't keep it together."

"Polly, just cry, whatever you need."

"He's gone," she sobbed.

I let her cry on the phone with me. I didn't say much. Anything. When she seemed to calm, I said "Can I come see you?" Her flight back was almost a week away, and I figured she wouldn't be getting on that.

"No it's OK," she said meekly. "I should let you sleep, I just thought it'd help to hear your voice."

"I hope it did but I know it can't."

She paused. An image of her in a dark hospital choking back a sob flashed through my mind. "It did. More than anything."

"I want to come up there. As long as I'm doing right by you."

"We'll talk about it in the morning," she whispered. "But don't make plans."

"Hug your mom. Get some sleep."

She whimpered on the other end. "I'll try," she choked out.

"Should we say goodnight?"

She paused for a bit then answered softly, "Yes. I should get back to my mom. Can we talk in the morning?"

"Yeah." I wanted to tell her I loved her. Obviously the timing was so wrong, but in some sense the timing seemed perfect. The feeling had never been so clear in my mind, but now that I was struggling to help her through a tragedy, there was no question. Something was telling me that if I told her I loved her, the meaning would be clear - she had lost the love of her father, but found the love from me. But my better head prevailed and I just said, "But make sure you're taking care of yourself, I'll be thinking about you."

"Thank you. Goodnight."

"Bye."

We didn't talk in the morning. I called her around 8:30 as I was getting to work, and again around 11. No answer either time. No texts, no voicemail when I got home. So I texted her "I thought about you all day. I hope you are doing better, I wish I could do something. Call me if you can but put yourself first." She didn't respond. She did finally call me the following morning around ten. I answered by just saying her name with relief. "What are you doing?" she asked. Her voice sounded like someone calling in the middle of the night, low but audible.

"I'm at work."

"Oh good." There was relief in her voice but she kept the muted tone. "I was worried you were doing something stupid like flying up."

"Not without talking. There's a seat left on your flight home, but I figure you won't take that."

"I will. We scheduled the funeral for Saturday, so I'll come home Sunday."

"Wow. You're going to be OK turning around so quick?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll change my mind. The last day has just been a blur."

"How are you doing?"

"I don't know. I'm really stressed, like there's something really important I have to do and I'm forgetting. I feel like crying all the time but I can't because I don't know what's left to cry over."

"How's your mom?"

"Like a zombie. I'm not much different though."

"And your brothers?"

"They're handling it like a task to be managed. I just let them talk and help when they need. They keep telling me I should take care of Mom but I can't, I don't know how. She's not the same."

"Is anyone taking care of you?"

"No. But I'll be OK. I'm just really drained right now."

"You can call me if you need someone for support."

"Thank you. I'll be OK."

"I know you will. But you're sure you don't want me to come?"

"Yeah. It would stress me out more to think I was stressing someone else out."

"You wouldn't be."

"But I would think I was." She sighed a loud sigh. "I just don't know what to say, or what to do."

"You don't need to say or do anything," I offered. She didn't respond and I added, "I would just sit with your mom, and when you're not busy take care of yourself. Read, garden, sleep, whatever."

"It's fucking tundra out there, I can't garden."

"Whoa, Polly!"

"Sorry, my filter's falling off."

"I like it. Get out that negative energy."

"I miss San Diego. I miss you."

"I've never missed anyone so much. Something in me thinks that I can make things better if I can see you, even though I know there's nothing that can fix this."

"That does make me feel a tiny bit better."

"You'll think of me if there's anything you need?"

"Yes. But I'll let you get back to work."

"OK. Feel better."

"Thank you."

We hung up. I didn't hear from her again that day. I texted her in the evening, just to say that it felt good to talk and that I hoped she had a good night. I sent her other simple yet affectionate texts the following morning and evening, the latter mentioning that she shouldn't feel the need to text back, but I just wanted her to know she was on my mind. I didn't hear back. That day was New Year's Eve, but I chose not to mention the holiday. I got a little needy New Year's morning, telling her that it was hard to call the new year happy when I was so worried about her, and that it'd be great to talk today. She called as Ohio State was running onto the field for the Rose Bowl. Without saying hello, she apologized for us not talking. I told her that was OK and in turn apologized for the needy text. She said it wasn't needy, it was sweet, and she needed a kick in the pants to get out of her rut. She had apparently tried chopping firewood to relieve her stress, both early this morning and the evening after we talked, but this morning realized that "Doing something I hated that I used to do with my dad was a really bad plan." She had been helping with the funeral arrangements but those were done, and New Year's was just a day of waiting. I told her about doing nothing and how Fang preferred her over me, whenever I tried to play with him he just looked at my like I was a weird human. It was our first conversation that wasn't completely dominated by losing her dad, although her grief underlaid everything. As we were getting ready to hang up, she said, "I have to apologize again."

"No you don't," I replied.

"I do. As much to myself as you. I could have called a hundred times the last few days, and I wanted to a thousand. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you."

"It's hard to tell myself that. It's hard to tell myself anything right now. It's like, you've been so supportive but every time I think I have a moment to call, this little voice tells me 'No one wants a sad Polly. Sad Polly will scare him away.'"

"I like you just as much when you're sad. In some ways more." I immediately regretted that last sentence. I was trying to say that when she's sad, my feelings for her became so prominent that they grew stronger. But instead I was embarrassed by my ineloquence. And the fact that I was yet to tell her the extent of my feelings.