Through a Glass, Darkly

I was walking down the hall and I thought I saw her, and suddenly I was drowning, my throat full, my lungs tight. It wasn’t her, of course. She hasn’t been there in, oh, two years at least. But it looked like her, just for a minute, and I was surprised at how much it threw me off.

I didn’t tell Mike about it right away. Later, though, I pointed out the girl and told him that I thought she was someone else, someone I didn’t particularly want to see. He held my hand and tears welled up in my eyes, tears I wasn’t even aware were there. I don’t know if he knew they were coming. Sometimes he knows stuff like that before I do.

I did actually see her a couple of weeks ago, when I was shopping with my mom. We said our awkward hellos and then retreated to opposite corners of the store. I didn’t tell Mike about that right away, either. I cried that night, too. Maybe that’s how he knew.

Sometimes you try so hard to do the right thing and it’s still not enough. I reached out to her because I thought it was the right thing to do. I don’t know if it was or if it wasn’t. But I know it hurts when I see her. Even when she’s not really there.