She

She came into the cafe all smiles and hellos. She appeared calm, relaxed, even happy. I wondered how she could be that way when I was a quivering mass of anxiety.

She ordered tea and chatted with the cashier, making her way back to our table with steady hands. She made chit chat as she sweetened her tea. Then she sat back and looked at me expectantly, but with a mild disdain in her eyes.

I told her I had remembered more. I told he had raped me.

She said nothing.

I asked if she believed me, and she calmly said, "No". I asked why. She said I was upping the ante to get what I wanted. I asked where we would go from here. How would we handle this distance in our relationship, and she said she didn't see how we could. So I told her I'd always be there for her if she changed her mind, and I left.

And that was over 10 years ago. I think of her every day, and I still wonder why. If I could have handled it better. Said it differently to elicit some compassion from her. But recently I've come to realize I couldn't control her reactions and responses. I know my motives, and that telling her was driven by the need for honesty in my life. My belief that if everything is on the table, things can be worked through.

She doesn't see life that way. More's the pity.



linking up with Five Minute Friday