On April 12th, sometime in the night, I'm standing, leaning against the wall, just inside of the door, and I'm clutching myself. At some point, I must have cried because when I returned home and looked into the mirror, my expensive, brand name mascara was smudged under my eyes. I said to him, "What are we going to do?" I had the voice of someone who is growing panicked. All I want to do is avoid the pain of leaving him for months at a time.
He motions at me with his hand. "We're going to sit down on the couch, and we're not going to have sex..."
"No, I mean, what are we going to do after this?"
This is the question he refuses to answer, no matter how I pose it, no matter how I manipulate it. He will not tell me the rules and the regulations of our engagement with each other, he will not plan with me ahead into the future. Because to give into the future, one has to commit to a certain vision of the future, and how can one do that when his/her heart has been broken over the same illusion?
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