Brendan Calling

Suitcase

“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me,” Melissa said. “Sorry for calling back so quick, but when you were just talking to Sam, were you talking about his upcoming visit?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I was telling him how much fun we were going have.”
“That’s really funny,” she said, “because you know what he’s doing?
“He’s going through the apartment looking for his suitcase. Listen!”

She held the phone to the air and I could hear Sam making noise rummaging around, saying “Sammy’s sooootcase! Sooootcase!”

“Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, I did! That’s cute.”
“Yeah, I thought you’d like that. Anyway, I guess we’ll talk later this week. I just though you’d want to hear that.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said laughing. “That IS really cute.”

It’s cute. But it’s also sad, and for the past three days I’ve felt like a torn picture. I get the same feeling when I’m around my brother and his family. I got it at work earlier this week when Kortney and Jim brought their 1-year-old daughter Frankie in for a visit. I’m a parent, but I’m not doing the “parent thing”. I’m not a full-fledged member of those two-person teams, where the partners are drawn closer together because of their enormous personal investment in that third little person, who is so small and helpless. Even when I have Sam with me, it doesn’t feel whole: I guess that sounds odd, and I admit it’s a difficult feeling to explain. I feel inside-but-outside, cold-but-hot. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, and outside of my brother and Margie, my coworker who doesn’t give a shit, I think parents my age feel my discomfort too and don’t know what to say. Once Kortney asked how I was doing, and as I explained she said “Forget I asked, I can’t even imagine and I DON’T want to imagine” as she scurried up the stairs. I want to be on one of those teams so badly.

When we fight, his mom likes to throw “I didn’t move down because you didn’t love me” in my face, and it shuts me up pretty quickly. She’s right: I didn’t love her, certainly not in that head-over-heels-and-fireworks way. But I did hold her in high regard, and I was ready to go the distance to make it work. I’m old enough and have been through enough that I don’t believe in “love at first sight” or “true love” anymore. Love is complicated, and the real thing is something that grows, and grows out of the most unexpected situations. I didn’t love her, but I wanted to love her and I wanted it to work. I didn’t get a chance to try.

I’m writing these words complaining about my sorrows while my girlfriend, who is in New Mexico with barely any cell phone service, is waiting desperately for a phone call from Arkansas. Her grandfather, who first sparked her interest in historic conservation, has a perforated bowel and is in the hospital. The situation, she says, has gotten worse, and he has contracted pneumonia and is on a ventilator. “My brother is flying out, but I can’t do it,” she said. “My credit card is maxed out, and I just chose my thesis. I can’t leave now, I just can’t.” She sounded like she was going to cry.

And then I just felt selfish.

3 Responses to “Suitcase”

1. Ryan Says:
   July 31st, 2006 at 1:54 am

   >>I didn’t love her, but I wanted to love her and I wanted it to work. I didn’t get a chance to try.

   You know that only works out one way: badly.

   I don’t know all the details about your relationship, but if you knew you didn’t love her, and she knew you didn’t love her, then you both knew the answer. It isn’t good, it isn’t easy, it isn’t cheap. Basically, it sucks for everybody involved. But it was the right thing to do.

   You know you’re already building a ‘team’–right now you and Sam are the general managers. Decisions will need to be made on ‘input’ from both of you.

   And you are certainly not selfish. Concern about the family dynamic in which your children grow up is probably the last thing I’d call ’selfish.’

2. Ryan Says:
   July 31st, 2006 at 1:55 am

   PS

   that is *really* cute!

3. Christina Says:
   July 31st, 2006 at 4:06 am

   Sweetie,
   maybe I’m a little bias, but I don’t understand how that made you selfish. Things with my grandfather and your relationship with Sam are two very different things. There is no reason for what is going on down here to underline any guilt or feelings of selfishness.

   You know my story. I’ve watched good marriages and bad ones unfold. Ryan is right you did the best that you could do, and you and Sam and Melissa will figure out how to make it work from here. Stay involved and Sam will know how much you care. He knows you love him. Families don’t always look like the two person team that you describe. I’ve lost count of how many team members participated in my upbringing. You and Sam are family and I don’t think he has ever or will ever question that.

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.