This is a serial about love and awakening. Previously: Each time we draw closer, Billy pulls away. But there comes a moment when I know: I’ll be fine, whether he leaves or stays. To see all posts in chronological order, Click Here.
Ahhhhhh, but that expansive sense of freedom doesn’t stay fixed. It’s not a state you reach, hoist your flag and dwell there forever. It’s something you taste and cultivate and, over time, can inhabit more frequently. Like all experience, it’s impermanent.
Billy wants to move to a different part of the country. He’s lived in Colorado all his life, so he’s eager to try a new region. Maybe New England? As it happens, before meeting Billy, I signed up for a 7-day retreat at a meditation center in Massachusetts. We decide to fly to Boston together and spend a week exploring the coast, from Gloucester to Provincetown at the tip of Cape Cod. Then he’ll drop me off at the retreat, do some serious property hunting, and we’ll meet at the Boston airport to fly home.
The problem is: We had a fight the night before leaving, and I became so frustrated I yelled, “Shut up!” I was startled by the intensity of my rage. How the hell had my newfound sense of freedom and detachment been knocked out? I apologized immediately, but Billy turned his back to me in bed and refused to speak.
On the flight to Boston, we exchange nothing but small talk. We don’t get around to discussing the problem till late that evening. I spend a lot of time apologizing for my part, but his body stays rigid, locked. Like he wants to keep fuming, nursing his righteousness.
In the morning we try to make love, but our hearts, literally, aren’t in it. We drive south, listening to music and not talking much, and I think, Why do I want to be with this person?