We made plans to meet later on in the day. He had plans he needed to attend to and I wasn't in the mood to accompany him. The day was pretty and there was a park nearby full of trees offering shade to protect me against the sun. I went to the park with the intention of sitting underneath the cool of a tree to read my book, and yet, I opted to sit next to a large iron gate instead, thereby exposing myself fully to the sun. I didn't mind though; sometimes I like the heat.
I noticed him a little bit later, searching for me amongst the trees. He didn't see me, of course, never anticipating that I would select my station near the gate with my seat the hot concrete instead of the cool grass. And then I noticed my sudden sense of immobility. There was no desire to meet him, no desire to get up and greet him. "I'm supposed to want to, aren't I?," I thought. "We barely even see each other," I thought. But I recognized that feeling - that sense of deadness. I've felt it before. The onset of my paralysis occurred because, at that exact moment, my mind finally acknowledged what my heart had already known: the feelings I once felt for him no longer existed.
I never quite know when I have crossed that imaginary line between caring and not caring. It happens so silently, stealthily, completely undetectable. I can't even be sure if there is ever a cause - a catalyst - or if occurs because I am fickle and cold. I don't even know how to determine the point of origin or when it happened or why it happened because by the time the realization that I've moved on becomes imperceptibly clear to me, I also lose the desire to fumble through the fogginess of my mind to help piece the puzzle together. What's the point? If it didn't make a fuss to begin with, I shouldn't make a fuss now.
He saw me then, at that exact moment. I slapped on a fake smile. I had no choice. The only half-way decent thing to do was to allow this feeling of emptiness the chance to persist, to grow, in order to test it a bit. If it stayed, then it must be real. If it suddenly disappeared, then, well, perhaps it was the hours of sitting under the sun that caused it. Either way, I had to put on a show, pretend that I was just as happy to see him as he was to see me. He deserved at least that; he deserved at least confirmation of my distance.
But when I saw his face, I could also feel my resolve to conceal my true feelings falter. Falter because I am a terrible liar and falter because the weight of knowing that I was here yet again, at this place where I have been with other men, is more disheartening than I would ever allow myself to accept. I didn't want to look at him further. And then, thankfully, I woke up.
Dreams - they can be so real at times, can't they? Perhaps not in scenery and sight, but at times, certainly in sensation and feeling. The doom from that dream transferred from my dream state and stayed with me to my waking state. I felt the sadness of it all over again. This time, this time though, it was real. Noticeable. But when I looked to my left, I was so pleased to see Daniel's face. Grateful, truthfully, because he was not the man in the dream.
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