Jörn suddenly asks,
“so, you and your daughter are talking again?”
“Oh—you read that in my ….”
“Blog,” he finishes my thought
“Mostly just texts for now, but we have talked, yes. After all these years …. but yes…. we had a four hour phone call of us mostly talking about writing and art ….”I look outside and find myself thinking about her back in Michigan. Then after a moment lost in thought I shrug the nostalgia off, and pause before I say,“but ‘between the lines’ we tackled all the heavy shit. And—well, it is sad but it turns out it was all misunderstandings. Makes me wonder how much Chris might have poured gasoline over things to ….”
“Help turn her against you.”
I shrug and don’t look at him and ignore the heavy weight of his meaning there. I mumble to myself something
“What did you say?” he asks leaning towards me
I shake my head,
“it’s not worth even saying ….some things ….he’s ….said to me ….recently.”
“You know he’s the narcissist,” he looks at me closely “….don’t you?”
I realize he heard me
“I don’t want to talk about him. He is one of dozens of people in my life I have needed to let go of, I guess it was some kind of overhaul I’ve been going through to edit out the toxic individuals in my life.”
“Like MM?” he raises one brow at me when I sharply look at him “speaking of …. narcissists… don’t drop the project because of….”
“Oh. You…. figured that out….so….you have been keeping up, haven’t you? I didn’t know you had the time.”
“Stake outs get pretty tedious and mind numbing when you have to wait wondering if you are about to get blown up….” he remarks casually
“Shit—Jörn! Where—?!”
He raises his good hand and shakes his head,
“don’t ask….”
“I —see…. well, I’m glad I can provide you with some distraction….”
“Is your daughter writing with you now?”he seems genuinely interested
I laugh,
“it’s the other way around. She has a few stories and ….well, you know…. it’s what we always did together before. It’s fun. She likes a different genre so—I like her stories…. and they’re fun so ….I’ve been assisting her for ideas when she gets stuck on plot lines. It’s ….yeah…. It is actually a lot of fun,” I chuckle, “but I’ve always found her fun. I’ve missed her so much…. and I’ve really missed it. These things we used to do….” I stop to collect myself but then…. “Hard to believe it’s been so many years ….she was just out of high school then ….years. Like….over six…. It doesn’t feel like it when we talk or text or work together….so weird how even with our separation she has so many of my traits….” I laugh at the irony.
only I am no good talking about myself.
I never could share. never knew how. strong silent type….the growing up years of my own ….kept me there silent in the corner ….where they sat me in fears of the belt valet
you never learn how ….so instead you learn how to write in code….and become uncomfortable now when you try
“Anyway…. So…. My blog—Jörn …. I assume it’s you—I mean, you know—the blog hits….?” I ask him carefully
But at first Jörn seems not to understand what I mean
after a moment he smiles as he realizes my question
“You mean—“ he hides another smile and then chuckles, “your cryptic posts ….which can seem like—are they codes ….or part of the story? yes, it was me, I got your messages—” his tone at first is teasing as he chuckles but then more searching as he now narrows his eyes on me; today more grey reflecting the day, with specks of taupe, “what was that ‘copycat’ you mentioned?”
“What? ….oh…. yeah—well, there were similar hits but —I don’t think they were you.”
“Then who was it, duva?” he meets my gaze, “you need to watch that….be careful.”
“Watch what? It’s not like I’m leaking secrets because I don’t know any!”
“Well, the copycat doesn’t know that, do they?”
No comments:
Post a Comment