Chapter 20 from the R.M. Dolin novel “The Dangling Conversation“, June 7, 2023.
ISABELLE: “It’s over, a fate accompli; we haven’t spoken since forever and Henry doesn’t seem to care if we do or don’t. Now before you climb up on your philosophical high horse, I know this kind of stuff has its ins and outs but trust me; after coming at it from every angle, the convergence point is always the same sad end. I’ve cried rivers of tears over the tragedy of it all and now coldly acknowledge all loves, even great ones destined to be profound, die a natural death. I’m even starting to wonder if this is why fate brought Diego back into my life, but that’s a pretty slippery slope I’m not ready to slide down. I need to be realistic; I’m a bound-up mess of emotions bouncing around like a pinball on the edge of tilt with a smattering of everything cliché that can be said in such situations.
“What pins my ponytail is not knowing. He doesn’t call, doesn’t text, doesn’t like my posts, it’s as if he’s ceased to exist. Of course he does in his far away world, just no longer in mine. It’s not like he’s gone off-grid; he’s updating locations, commenting on mimes, doing stuff with friends, and bragging about his new position. I know you’re gonna say something about how couples have their silos of silence, but Henry and I always leave breadcrumbs. That’s the difference this time, I don’t know why and there’s no hope of explaining how I know, but it really is, really over.
“Everything’s fine until I get back from Margo’s funeral; I sense right away something’s off. Of course, Henry denies it, says we’re good, but if things are so damn good why does he up and leave? That’s what paints my post; either we’re lying to each other or lying to ourselves, and people tend to believe both in the hope they outlive their truths. That puts me in a precarious pickle, do I perpetrate my well-worn lie or face the ugly truth straight up? Either way, I’m pretty sure it’s the same purgatory. When I toss Diego in the mix, things get pretty damn complicated pretty damn fast.”
KYLE: “Mom’s smiling down saying, as she always does, “trouble travels in pairs.” Here I am, on the precipice of the same predicament, only without option B. It could be this park bench, but more likely we’ve both managed to fall in love with people on different pages. You and I can’t be more different, yet we’re both caught in the same downward spiral and one thing’s clear, there’s no roadmaps navigating the space between thinking it might be over and knowing for sure. You probably assume I’m experienced in such things or am at least hardened enough to not have it matter. Truth is, I’m just as lost and while it hurts like hell, I’d rather have these chaffing emotions rubbed raw than feel nothing; so, there is at least that.”
ISABELLE: “I oughta confront him, ask him straight-up if it’s over even if the question’s fraught with danger. It’s unhealthy being afraid to speak your truth; I can’t decide if it’s because I fear knowing, or because I can’t fathom how crushingly devastating it’ll be to hear him say, “I don’t love you anymore.” Stuff like that can’t be unsaid ya know. Mom won’t talk to dad, and I’ve never understood why. Sure, he’s a take-charge kind of guy, but she knows that going in and I think she likes having someone make decisions. Dad isn’t mean or even really domineering, he’s always asking for input; always trying to make her happy. Her continual acquiescence though, makes it impossible for them to have peace, which frustrates them both. Over time, like most couples I suppose that becomes their deal; the older I get the better I see both sides of their dance and the pitfalls to avoid.
“I vow to never be them, even convince myself my failed marriage has nothing to do with their conditioning. If you ask me for an honest assessment, I’ll say the demise of my marriage isn’t my fault, but if you hit me up on a rainy night after bourbon, I’ll quietly concede my fingerprints contaminate the evidence. I think about the cause and effect of divorce on rainy nights when you’re not here; I hope you’ll come to keep me from firing down that rabbit hole, but you never do. Cause is directly related to effect, but most times, it’s way more subtle. Is the fact you slip on ice because someone failed to salt the sidewalk, or because the sun’s warmth you cherished all damn day, melts snow that drains across the concrete and turns to ice after things go cold?”
KYLE: “Nadia’s gone cold; she’s been part of my life more than twenty years, even when she wasn’t. Through all my mistakes, all my missteps, I’ve always been falling toward her, only each time we grow close, fate intervenes, never enough to completely close the door, just enough to keep us apart. The thing terrifying me now like nothing before, is we’re running out of time. You can still recover from miscues; there’s room for you to wander in and out of someone’s life. You’ll reach a point though when you realize this is the last dance, the final time you’ll start over, the last time you say goodbye and walk away. After that, the sun sets on the road meant to bring you together; it’s utterly the saddest thing anyone can face, sadder even than death.”
ISABELLE: “I feel that way about Diego, yes, I’m the one walking out of his life, but my heart never really leaves. The door closes pretty damn hard but now fate’s cracked it open enough to cause all kinds of confusion. My relationship track record’s not so good, but just because it was me who ended things with Diego doesn’t mean it’s my fault, or that failed relationships are my deal. But what if it is and what if they are, that’s what scares me; what if I’m the one sabotaging things while blaming Henry? I don’t want it to end, I can’t become a repeat offender. But even if I wait for his clarity, how do I know it’s him ending things? Mom never changes her dynamic, she talks incessantly about wanting to, but in the end, she’s as predictable as a record stuck in a groove and you know what they say, “An apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
KYLE: “Nadia and I were bouncing emails and text messages; multiple times a day before she starts tapering off, first only one message a day, then one ever couple days; now it’s weeks between messages. Her in France and me here only exacerbates my disconnection; I’m not needy but need some sort of connection. I’m reduced to an over-zealous puppy waiting, hoping, for any sign of affection. What worries me is I’m slowly being conditioned to her silence; every day the withdraw bothers me less and I fear I’m approaching the point of not caring. She says her silence is because she has nothing to say, but that’s a poor excuse, if you can even call it that; what it is, is pretty damn cold, especially for two people who don’t have to reach too far back to find a time their love’s profound. With frustration mounting, my need to do something escalates to the point I send an email declaring my need for more; I bare my soul hoping it’ll foster a like response; if nothing else, at least compel her to clarify where we stand.
“I wait for what seems like eternity before she finally replies with a message so meager it quite frankly shocks me; not with what she says but in everything omitted. Does that make sense? I bare my soul, and she offers nothing toward knowing whether we stay together or grow apart. I’m just blank about how to respond to her non-response; or if I even should. We’re a curious pair, you and I, lost romantics placing faith in something that may not exist; consumed by not knowing. Perhaps Henry and Nadia are saying the same thing and we’re just not hearing it.”
ISABELLE: “Henry loves me, even if I don’t get how, it’s very different from the dynamic between my Ex and me; we bounce in and out of love for years, well not really, we were always in love. Better to say we bounce in and out of romance, play with passion like a dog tarries a bone; so right for each other one minute, so wrong the next. That’s love’s dynamic; in and out like a sewing needle stitching life together. I watch couples walk by wondering how they define life. Sure, they’re together but are they in love, or do they simply reduce expectations regardless of how empty things get. What’s worse, living absent of passion and romance, or ending things in the hopes of finding that special spark with someone else? We only get one chance to live our most precious life, so I say forget vows, nowhere do they mention the role of happiness or passion, or the responsibilities we have to each other for both. When things end with my Ex, we aren’t even good roommates. I do wonder if we had found our roommate groove, would we still be together; would that be a blessing or a curse?”
KYLE: “My case is convoluted, Nadia can be indescribably passionate and just as easily, tender; that is until she reaches saturation, then in the snap of a finger, she’s done. If we’re in bed when saturation’s reached, she’ll roll over with no need to cuddle or even say goodnight, if we’re in the middle of a walk she’ll stop talking; it’s like being halfway through an ice-cream cone and tossing the rest. Who does that? There’s never a saturation point for me, we’ve never been together with me not wanting more; more talking, more tenderness, more connection. And not just more but more deeply, and this difference between us leaves me feeling constantly rejected, which cascades into all kinds of unfortunate reactions; foremost being a consuming need for reassurance, which makes me needy. I don’t like being needy. My recursion may be different than your mom’s, but at the same time, it’s precisely the same.”
ISABELLE: “I wander in and out of romance after my Ex, but not like they show in movies, its lonely out there. A girl gets past college, and her friends are settling down, starting families. I never make it that far. It got to where I just quit looking, quit trying. Henry and I weren’t supposed to meet, any more than Diego and I were supposed to re-meet, but we did. Mom says fate has things mostly figured out and we’re just filling in details as long as we color within the lines. The first time Henry leans in to kiss me is after our third date. I expect him to try on the first, think for sure he’ll go for it on the second, and by the third go-around, I don’t even see it coming. It’s very romantic and old-fashioned; Henry’s sweet that way, even charming, most men are way more direct about expectations.”
KYLE: “I’m not pathetic, but it does beg the bigger question, who’s healthier in our relationship? What I feel for Nadia I’ve never felt before; that’s gotta count for something. I loved Maggie until I didn’t, Olivia until I couldn’t, but what I feel for Nadia’s in a completely different realm. I’ve always been okay with being alone and don’t define myself in terms of someone else; I don’t have rejection issues, but a guy doesn’t get to be me without enduring his share of disappointments. What’s weird is I’m more likely to be Nadia than me, which throws me into a tailspin because if my usual role in a relationship is now reversed, does that mean in my ripe old age I’m learning how to love, to be vulnerable and exposed? It matters because if I’m being pathetic, I need to be more like Nadia, who’s being more like me; but if I’m evolving, I must face the terrible truth that Nadia may not love me, at least not as much as I love her. It may be a classic case of, “she’s just not all that into me?”
ISABELLE: “What if Henry’s not into me? When I look back to the things he says I believe I’m just not reading him right. We do together amazingly, the being apart part we don’t navigate so well. It’s the conflict of our time, couples need to be together but society’s evolved into dangerous isolation; we’re more comfortable building virtual lives that make everyone envy us but along the way we manage to eradicate humanity from our hearts, our minds, and our loves. I dread performance reviews at work because the first question is always, “what have you done for me lately?” That’s the essence of love in the post-human era, we’ve become mimes pretending we don’t need the rise and fall of emotions, the passions and drama, the tenderness of touch, or the comfort of embrace; and somehow in this madness we convince ourselves its optimal; my question is, what in God’s name are we optimizing?”
KYLE: “I’ll respond to Nadia’s anemic response even if I am being pathetic; just not sure what my tone should be; do I subdue emotions, lower my level of love to match hers hoping it places us on more tranquil footing, or should I boldly press this opportunity in the hopes of raising her level of love to something more profound, something I truly believe it once was and can be again? The sticky wicket is her heart wants what it wants whether it wants me or not and no amount of persuasion’s gonna alter that. This leaves one out, lowering my level of love; problem is, I don’t know how. I’ve come to recognize, having been on both sides, love ebbs and flows in chaos, and just because I’m currently the one with all the angst, that’s not to say that either previously, or at some point in the future, it won’t be Nadia struggling to place me in her life.”
ISABELLE: “I don’t know how to love, and history proves my point; I either dive in too deep or pull back in preemptive fear. One minute Henry’s the one, and the next I never want to see him again. Half my time I’m worrying while the other half’s moving on. Love’s like this giant revolving door and the only way to maintain any sense of sanity is to never enter. That’s what Henry’s doing, stepping aside to avoid dangerous drafts. Relationships are never equal, while one wants more the other’s comfortable in steady state. It’s mostly men reaching steady state first; why I don’t know, maybe they love less, maybe they get to the place I’m traveling faster, maybe I don’t know what it means to be satiated. It doesn’t much matter only why should I always be the one feeling like shit? Is the heart prone to sadness, or is it just me? Henry says everything’s okay because for him it is; when I tell him I need more, I honestly believe he doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about.”
KYLE: “I started my response but it’s hard to explain to someone who may no longer love you how much you need their love. It should be easy, if you can’t be open, it already tells you something. It needs to be a letter; you wouldn’t understand in your era of instant messaging, but there’s a profoundness in a well written letter, an intensity that can’t be equaled in phone calls or even face-to-face. The danger lies in its definitiveness and the likelihood of things imploding in unintended ways; when you dance along the razor edge of vulnerability, you can’t walk words back. Each time I sit down to write, I’m overcome with this feeling I’m someone who can’t swim about to jump off a cliff into the ocean.”
ISABELLE: “Henry and I communicate in short bursts, which is probably why I’m in this predicament. Messaging offers hidden mimes, maybe something intentionally masquerading as shallow when just below the unsaid surface is a profoundness we don’t dare share. I wouldn’t even know how to write a letter conveying in any way what I feel or want to say; that could in any way illicit the response I need. I admire the ease way you peel back nonsense and get right to the heart of an issue. I envy the way you filter the world and make sense of things that for me are so hard to comprehend. Maybe you can write my Henry letter?”
KYLE: “I seldom show emotion as a young man, by mid-life I’m too caught up in being who everyone expects, as we grow old though, we jettison filters. Things get rather confusing for a while as society cancels strong men and the metro-sexual comes into vogue. I couldn’t be that, but at the same time wasn’t allowed to be me. By the time all that horseshit gets sorted out I realize I no longer give a rat’s ass what society thinks; only my me has moved away from who I was. I’m still a stoic cowboy, but willing to express emotions. I’m more vulnerable with Nadia than I’ve ever been; and I only say vulnerable because I can’t bring myself to use words like fearful or anxious.”
ISABELLE: “Anxiety and fear, that’s me in the morning preparing to masquerade my day. Good days let me say to hell with it all, bad days leave me wondering how the hell I wound up becoming mom when I had a front row seat for who not to be in a relationship. I practice things to say in front of the mirror; only seldom find the strength to actually say them. It’s good therapy though, verbalizing emotions is a first step toward conquering them; I just need the courage to carry my conflicts onto the battlefield.”
KYLE: “Sunsets cause me to process her last message; it’s a metaphor, the smog encasing our world in a fog of confusion focuses my devastation into one intense orange ball quietly drifting from sight. I’m uncertain of her intent, but the best way to describe my damaged heart is to channel the Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda, who tearfully said, “Tonight I write the saddest words, I loved her and sometimes she loved me.”
“What’s causing her heart to shift away from us; has she always held reserved trepidation that only now finds its voice through the absence of words? Perhaps I’m dramatic, but my heart’s shifting along with hers; only rather than moving away, it’s cascading deeper into love. While she questions if or even how we might evolve, I think only in forever terms, which I guess makes me the greater fool.”
ISABELLE: “Henry says I’m being foolish; says I act like a schoolgirl. While his condescending crap is offensive, his being spot on really pisses me off. It’s not wrong to want more, and what straightens my curls is wondering if he can grow deeper in love or if this is his completed self? What if I drive him away and then the future him becomes who I need him to be; then his future me gets all the benefits of my suffering. I’m not here to be his guide, but isn’t that who people are to each other in relationships?”
KYLE: “What’s striking about her letter is its sterile indifference, a resonate, “C’est la vie,” of stoic apathy toward whether we move forward or never see each other again. It throws me into an unsettledness I’m ill-prepared to navigate. I don’t know if I’ve done something wrong or offensive because she never says anything. What scares me is wondering if the me she’s come to know since we reconnected is divergently different than the me, she remembers from all those years we were apart; if true, it’s fair, but far from final. If there’s something lacking, something that can be fixed, let’s get to work fixing it; it’s too damn easy to just toss in the towel and move on when there’s necessary work to be done. What can’t continue is silence building each day into an impenetrable wall of separation.”
ISABELLE: “I told Henry his ghosting isn’t helping either of us, but he says nothing back. What’s worse, Nadia’s indifference or no response? I’ll give you that you’ve got way more invested, but does that matter? Is that what love reduces to, an investment? I took some of the money from my divorce and bought a nice car thinking it would help me recover. I liked the car, but never loved it; not like I loved the first piece of crap car dad gave me on my sixteenth birthday. It was ugly, unreliable, and drank gas like a sailor but I loved it with all my heart, so no, love’s not about investment, and one shouldn’t hold on after all the reasons to stay have washed away. I watch couples walk by and wonder how many are still in love and how many are just running out the clock on a passionless marriage because of their investment; that makes me wonder which of us is wiser. Since investment doesn’t matter, it puts you and me on equal footing; doesn’t change our situations or advance our understanding, but it helps were both in the same sized raft floating the same torrid waters.”
KYLE: “Beyond her words, both spoken and unspoken, lies a far greater sadness; Nadia doesn’t yearn for me, at least not in the all-consuming way I do and that’s the harshest hurt. I yearn to be near her, to feel the warmth of her breath, the softness of her smile; I think about her all day only to invite her into my dreams at night. I plan around a future where she’ll be here, or I’ll be there, but either way, we’ll be together; only it doesn’t seem that way for her. She dodges my phone calls because in reality, she doesn’t want to talk to me. She’ll ghost me for days, even weeks, then offer nothing but superficial idioms. She refuses to invite me back to France even though when I left, we agreed she would, and I have numerously stated my eagerness to return.
“I don’t know if it’s a French thing or a her-thing, but two people in love should yearn for each other; willingly express themselves with both tenderness and passion. Two people building a future, regardless of how long they’ve known each other, should yearn for connections on any and all possible levels; a short message to say you’re thinking of them, a funny mime that made you laugh, a struggle you want to discuss, or a tenderness you wish you could say in person but begrudgingly express by phone or in a small text or email. Two people in love should yearn for ways to connect: I’m consumed by this need, but Nadia lacks reciprocation. Is what we had, what I dreamed we’d have, lost forever, or is there hope it can come back?”
ISABELLE: “My Ex and me have our moments, but we also have days when nothing meshes. After a while, the time spent out of gear dwarfs’ whatever moments we can muster and one day we just know. I can’t recall who speaks first because it doesn’t really matter, not when divorce is on the tips of both tongues. By the time things finalize, there’s plenty of anger, the lawyers make sure of that; but it isn’t that way at first. When we agree to end things, it isn’t because of his latest betrayal or irreconcilable differences, we’re just too exhausted to continue, two fatigued hearts who can no longer gain strength from the other. When love dies, there’s no room for anger, only sadness.”
KYLE: “She’s afraid of me, an indelible scar left from her Ex; a fear of intimacy that’s grounded in her reality of repercussions. She’s afraid to be open, to be honest, to express her wants and frustrations. She’s reluctant to expose her doubts, hopes, and apprehensions because I might later use those vulnerabilities against her. She’s afraid of love, of being loved; of being in love. I chase myself in circles trying to ascertain if I’m anywhere close with any of this or am I foolishly floundering in the wrong ocean? I even find myself questioning whether the stress of my troubles is causing me to seek shelter for my tormented soul; my last remaining refuge, leaving me to face how much I need her now more than ever?”
ISABELLE: “I carry scars. My Ex never physically hurts me, but love is war, there are battles, victories and defeats, and through all that, wounds that never fully heal. I’m not the person I was, and I’ll never be her again, which in a lot of ways is good, and in others maybe not. With the distance of time though, I allow myself to think of him, mostly about what was good. That’s how we deal with emotional scars; we focus on the good while the brain blocks the painful parts. I did love him, and he loved me. We could spend months on the “this” and “that’s,” but it wouldn’t change our outcome. It’s the same with Diego, I’m not sure he knows I’m not the girl I was; he says he does, but there’s no way to know.”
KYLE: “I read a paper on dating French women that pointed out they never say, “I love you,” which based on my experience, is absolutely true. Nadia never has, at least not to me. People in love should say that, not in the superficial way couples do when they say hello or goodbye, but in more meaningful ways. It shouldn’t matter that couples are seldom on the same page; relationships build on a mutual give and take. I’m the one out of step, the one traveling too free and fast down the relationship highway ignoring all the cautionary signs Nadia’s been trained to heed. It’s analogous to the difference between how we drive; me recklessly cruising down the road with little regard to speed limits and dangers, or the consequences of what can go wrong, and her, ever mindful of every potential calamity, cautious to the point of being below the allowable speed minimum.”
ISABELLE: “I’m not frozen, just cautious. I dip a toe in the water then try to read the rings before deciding whether to take a plunge. When we start out, Henry accuses me of being frigid. Men rely on the physical parts of romance; certain it’s the only way to unlock their emotions. He was patient, I’ll give him that. He never pressures me, which makes my feelings toward him compound at an accelerated rate. Where things go off track is once I give myself to him, I expect his emotions to unlock but they don’t. It frustrates me that I’ve given myself completely to him and he’s holding back. I shouldn’t pressure but can’t help myself. He says and does all the things to get me falling in love, only now he doesn’t seem willing or capable of doing the things to maintain that love and I just don’t know what my takeaway should be. At the very least, him skipping town isn’t the answer.”
KYLE: “Nadia and I have been dancing around our issue for some time; multiple months by my book, maybe even longer in hers. It’s time to put our cards on the table, I need to know what’s in her head, in her heart, and how she sees our story playing out. I need to understand what’s driving her behavior to understand what, if anything, I can do different. If she needs limits and boundaries, I understand; I just need to know the “what’s” and “why’s,” because to me it feels like we’re playing a bizarre French dating game that I fear is on the edge of not ending well.”
