Getting used to the gulf of time

I need to keep reminding myself that despite the attention of the last few weeks, my relationship with M has changed, and I need to get used to it again. As we enter the Hallowthanksmas holiday season, I find myself thinking back to how things were between us at this time last year. It’s dawned on me that we won’t be spending them together. It feels like someone died. It hurts. And I need to get over it.

He’s not going to call me every day to just to say “hi” or “whatcha doin?”—you don’t realize how good that feels until it’s gone. I must remember that he doesn’t care how my day is going. He doesn’t want to know that my hair looks like crap and my favorite sweater has a hole in it. He doesn’t want to go to lunch or dinner anymore. He isn’t going to want to put the tree up together, or spend thanksgiving together, or plan a holiday party, or work some Christmas Concert together.

It’s over, and for the past few weeks, I’ve allowed myself to forget that.

With the show going on, I got used to talking to him on the phone all the time again. I felt useful to him. I felt wanted, even if it was just about show-related matters. I may have screwed up a lot, I may have been mean to the cast, but I was a part of it. Of him. Again. I slipped back into old habits of caring about him, being happy when I saw him—and mistaking his joy to see me as reciprocation. I forgot that things have changed.

Yesterday, nothing.

Today, nothing.

I called this afternoon because I needed to know what’s going on with strike tonight—and when “we” are going to go over receipts. He called me back to breathlessly explain that he’s been crazed all day, trying to catch up on all his neglected side projects. His voice was uncharacteristically harsh, as if he was annoyed that I called. I asked what was wrong, but he insisted nothing is wrong. He’s just stressed. As it turns out, “we” are not going to go over receipts. He plans to do it later tonight. Alone. He wants me to gather up all my tally sheets and hand them over to him tonight at strike time, and when he gets home, he’ll go through them all himself. “I can’t cut checks to our SM or the sound guy tonight,” he explained, “because I just deposited the ticket money and it’ll take a few days to clear. Then we need to cut a check to them, to you and me, and I was really hoping to keep some money in the account for the company…”

Suddenly “we” are gone from the equation. Damn, that was fast.

“That’s fine,” I conceded and added, meekly, “Um… well, that’s actually what I was calling about. When do you want to get together this week to go over that stuff and decide what to do about—”

“—definitely not tonight!”

“No, of course not,” I said with all the apologetic sympathy I could muster.

“I’m just too fried. I can’t do that tonight. Maybe…. tomorrow? or Wednesday? Those are about the only two days I could do it…” he trailed off as he exhaustedly listed all the projects he has lined up already. Not theater-related, thank God, but strangely, an overwhelming sense of loneliness washed over me like a cloud. I wanted to cry again. I realized, I am not a priority in his life. Not even on the radar screen unless he needs me for something. I never will be again, and I know it. The only reason I was there was to run the show. Now I’m not his friend; I’m not needed. Why am I doing this to myself?

Moreover, I’m confused.

“Okay, do you want to talk about it tonight?” I asked, knowing he probably wouldn’t discuss anything unless I forced the issue.

“Yeah, let’s plan that. Tonight around 7. I’ll be getting there early.”

“Me too. We’ll go over things then. And don’t forget, we need to talk about the catering for the cast party.”

M heaved a long, forgetful sigh. “Oh yeah. Well, we probably just need to get some entrees, and maybe we’ll ask the cast to bring sodas, chips, and desserts.”

“Okay. Let’s figure that out tonight too.”

Sounds to me like M is dropping the ball again. He’s so relieved the show is over, he’s forgetting all these promises he’s made.

Now, as I consider what I need to bring tonight, I’m wondering if I even have all the receipts. I don’t think I do. And honestly? I hadn’t planned on just handing them over to him and letting him do it all—I figured I’d be there to say, “Oh, don’t forget that thing we bought that we don’t have a receipt for!” or “Whatever happened to that time we had to have all those forms printed and had to pay through the nose at Staples?” All those things M forgets but I remember.

I hate it when it gets like this. I just want to go home and cry all over again.