primal inference

I ran into an old lover on Friday, the only lover in a non-relationship I've really ever had. It's probably been six years since I've seen him, strange enough because we work in the same field (I always was a sucker), but somehow we've managed not to cross paths in all this time.

I was showing someone around a site I am rarely at when I came around a corner and saw him, facing away, but recognizable (always) from a distance.

I actually stopped walking and before I could stop myself said Oh...I was so not expecting this...followed immediately by a silent and i look like shit. He must have sensed something from 100 feet away because at that precise moment he turned and looked, then turned again for a moment, standing still.

We both managed (always had managed) to play it off, even when we were involved no one at either of our agencies was remotely aware of it; but I'd be lying if I denied that my knees didn't all of a sudden feel like sand.

Perhaps some things may never change, and yet I walked past with a cool long time, friend, to with he replied yes, nice to see you. I walked into the office and took a few minutes to watch him through the window. He looks exactly the same.

It was always a visceral thing, a former life, a primal connection. He was the one in between others for a number of years, the one that was no good but I still couldn't shake. It was physical, with a minor in emotional, but from time to time I'd confused the two, and that was my downfall.

He looks exactly the same, a south american with a minor in cuban, a bit of new silver, but mostly, exactly the same. He is never someone I think of, no one I miss. But in those few moments it was if an invisible velvet cord wrapped in Neruda and red wine wrapped itself around my waist and pulled me close. The way a man places his hand on the small of your back while teaching you to salsa and guides you effortlessly around the floor. Omara Portundo singing in the background. A bit like all of that.

I took the high road and avoided him. He waited until there was a pause and came over, direct, subtle, exotic, saying I've often wondered how you are. Do you have a moment? Not really, my mind says Just a minute, I suppose, comes out of my mouth.

We wander off from the crowd and he mentions hearing that I've become a mother, he wonders how that is. I am trying not to fidget. I decide I don't really want to tell him anything.

It was always like this. And it was simultaneously very flawed. He was never truly forthcoming, he had too many wounds and was the opposite of what I needed all those years ago. And yet I dug in for far too long at the sacrifice of other things not the least of all myself. I'm still a bit irritated over the power he had, and the way even now, seeing him makes me feel.

After a few moments I tell him I need to go, people are waiting. He asks if he could see me, go to lunch, catch up, talk. No, I say, with my mind and voice this time, I don't think so. He looked taken aback, started to speak, then paused, gazed, nodded, and said adios, then, preciosa. If you change your mind....No, I said. I don't think I will.

I watched him walk away and stood still after he'd left, silent. It had always been like this. And it was the most it ever was. He was exactly the same. And thank god I am not.