10:43 a.m. - 2005-12-13
The God of Second Chances
And then it happened. John let me know that he found himself shying away from her embrace. He wrote that, perhaps accustomed to my prolonged rejection, he had shut down and could no longer receive affection. My first response was sadness, guilt. Had I scarred him such that he could not be loved? But then I wondered why he was telling me this, why he might want to engender any bit of hope in me. It occurred to me that hers may just be the wrong embrace. Emboldened, I wrote my response, coyly signing the email "Bad Kitty". I felt dangerous, seductive, empowered. He wrote back that we would discuss that possibility over dinner at the Mexican restaurant we had frequented all the seven long years. I suggested Indian, a more intimate and elegant setting. John responded that we would stick with Mexican and save Indian for another time. I sensed an energy I had not encountered in him. Decisive. Confident. Self assured. I marked the promise of "another time". Another time. My heart felt light and strangely fizzy. I shopped for new clothes, something I had never done for John. I changed several times before he arrived. I sprayed and powdered and poofed and smoothed. I felt like Esther, bathing in milk to impress her king. This was my shot and I was going to make the most of it. I was giddy with anticipation. There was John at the door, just a little bit late. So unlike him. He took note of my appearance while I took note of the electrical impulses surging just under the fragrant surface of my skin. I was shy and bold at the same time. Wickedly vulnerable. I felt a power new to me and I wasn't afraid to use it. We were seated in a bright, noisy table towards the back. John opened with, "You better have some "A" material". I was breathless with hope.
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