I wasn’t afraid when I left the house this evening.  I was alone… and at loose ends, but I wasn’t afraid.  

Now I’m afraid. 

I walked in and looked around. I had not been there in a couple of years, but I knew where she was, so I let my car bring me there.  I saw her almost immediately.  I recognized her from the rear view first and sure enough, it was her when she turned around.  Unbelievably, she was a blonde now. 

I stood there for a while, knowing full well that she was far too near-sighted to recognize me in the dimly lit room.      

I just looked.  I saw the same familiar face and figure that I expected to see beneath that garish hair.  I assumed it was a wig, but I could never tell with her. She seemed to be able to magically make even the cheapest wigs look like they were growing right out of her head.  

Basically I saw what I expected to see… so I walked over.  

Standing almost beside her, I waited until she realized who I was.  Even up close, she looked down at me initially with no immediate recognition of the man she had shared so much with.  Then she smiled a sheepish grin and moved closer with a half hearted move to demonstrate an intimate gesture.

Then she volunteered, “I’ve been doing a lot of traveling you know.” 

Up close, I was surprised to clearly see the black roots merging into a bleached blonde imitation. Maybe these were extensions, because I do not remember her hair being this long.

When I didn’t provide more than a simple, “Oh?” she continued.  “Yeah, I’ve been to Tampa and Orlando, and…” she went on to mention other locations, but by this time I was not listening.  I had realized that her voice was wrong.  She was badly slurring her words and speaking with a completely unfamiliar cadence.  I did not smell alcohol, but I knew from experience that when she drank heavily she spoke very loud and slurred her words... as she was doing now. 

She was either quite drunk, or she was stoned on something new. Either one was wrong. With lightning clarity, I understood that the memory of her had little in common with reality.  Her stunning face was no longer stunning, and her impact on me had a completely unexpected reaction. 

I did not want to touch her… and I didn’t want her to touch me.  She leaned in to kiss my cheek and I tensed, hoping not to show signs of my displeasure. 

In many respects, this broke my heart.  I knew her history.  I knew how she got here and I thought I understood why.  I knew the strength she sometimes showed, even though it was never enough.  I knew of the daughter her mother was raising many states away.  I know that she tells me that she sends money home.  I know she never has any. 

I think that when I left the house... I wanted to want her.  I did not... and now I had proven it to myself.  (Whatcha gonna do baby?)

Someone else was waiting for her attention at the moment, so I tucked a small gift into her garter and made some type of innocuous gesture of retreating.  She thought she understood, believing that she would be able to find me later, knowing that I had driven across town to find her. 

I walked out the door and drove straight home.

So what will I say or do when the inevitable phone call comes?  I talked to myself all the way home in mock rehearsal of telling her how sincere I was about not wanting to see her again.  I had been the security blanket in her world.  I was the one that she could always turn to in a life of madness and uncertainty.  I was, once again, playing the starring role of Sir Sav-a-ho.  

I no longer wanted to be that person. 

Sometimes we had been together three nights in the same week… while other times it had been months between visits.  This time apparently, she had stayed away long enough for her aura to truly wear off.  She hadn’t called and I had not called her. Going out to find her tonight (and I might as well admit that is what I did) was a spontaneous fluke.

And I have finally gotten her out of my system.   I hope.  

I am afraid ... because I have said this to myself before.