He Won’t Go Away

nate: i still want to talk with you.

me: hi nate, i’m still at work.  here for another few hours and feeling nauseous from lack of sleep.

not sure what we have to discuss.  clearly we have different views on the issue.  i thought we agreed to disagree.  

nate: i didn’t agree to disagree.  i want to talk.

me: i am sorry about what has transpired.  but i have moved on.

then i get these emails from you which resurrect some memories i would much rather forget altogether.  there is nothing for us to talk about.  we are not friends.  we are not going to look back on this–one day in the future–and laugh.  these are some pretty horrible shitty memories.

i don’t want to think about it anymore.

nate, i want you to be happy.  i hope you find your peace.  truly.  

please do not contact me ever again.

nate: i want to talk to you because you have little idea about what you did and what happened, you think you do but realize you have never talked to me about this, so you cannot.

i also want to talk to you because i have to.

me: i do not want to play the blame game.  it is done and over.

maybe i do not know everything.  i don’t care to know all the details.  but i have heard enough that i really don’t want to hear anything anymore.  i don’t want to spend another minute hearing someone else’s side of the story.

nor do i trust you anymore.  i can no longer believe anything you say.  so that pretty much kills any conversation we should be having.

nate: i’m not interested in that.  relax.  i am serene and forgiving.  and not mad.  breathe.

see.  didn’t know that either, did you?

these are parts of the reason i need to talk.

And now the late night texts have resumed.  “Hi.”  “Hey are you up?”  “Catherine, you there?”