The Art of Leaving

Here: Washington DC
Now: Thursday evening

Jen’s home is as lovely as ever, and the weather is surprisingly nice. I have tried Catherine’s mobile, but there is no answer. Her screenname says she is out to dinner with suspicious people whom I must remember to quiz her on. (Drat for ending sentences with prepositions).

The thing about blogs, I have learned, is that they are terribly messy. You have one intention, perhaps, one goal in mind, but it never works out how one hopes. It’s like writing a novel, or living a life. It’s unpredictable. And that is why today, instead of my Tale, I choose to discuss the topic of leaving. Because you see, (although you do not see at all yet), leaving has played a crucial role in my life thus far. It has ramifications that are not even fulfilled within the average human lifetime. I have left and been left, over and over again, and yet the sensation is always new. This morning, I left Jonathan.

I left him fast asleep in the tangled sheets of his bed in the Congress Hilton. As I mentioned earlier, he does not stay at the Drake, as I do, but rather, around the corner. I spent last night with him, in what he did not know was good-bye. And it is not the first time I have left him, nor is it the first time I have left him in this manner: fast asleep. In this century, I have finally mastered the art of the tiptoe, the getting dressed swiftly in the dark, the leaving without a backward glance, the quiet click of the doorknob lock. It’s all become quite simple. And I have no fear, this time, for Jonathan’s emotions. Quite the contrary, I know that he can handle it. I don’t make promises, because I know that I will break them. I have offered him nothing to hope for. –And even as I tell myself this, I know it is only half of the truth. Because, you see, part of it has to do with him, I am beginning to realize. The only reason he does not mind is because he knows that he can find me. He has done it more than once before. So when he wants me, if he wants me, no matter how I’ve hid my trail, he will appear. And I’ll be helpless to refuse him.