am·big·u·ous: adj. Open to more than one interpretation: an ambiguous reply.

I had one explanation and a request to make. Ah, but first my dear son decided that he wanted to show me the frisbee golf course, (I met them at the park where Ian plays frisbee golf) so I ended up walking the nine holes (actually baskets) while he and Ian played a round. I’m glad I did. It was good to see them doing something together. I just realized I’ve never really gotten to see that because Nick was only three when we split up and to little to do stuff like that with his dad. I just watched them together. Nick trying to throw well, the way Ian taught him, and trying to copy Ian. And Ian, complimenting Nick when he would make a good throw and giving him tips. I enjoyed it and didn’t think until now, thank Goddess, that it was kind of sad. What I was witnessing was what could have been...us...together...as a family. Fuck it! I’m not going to ruin it. It was a good thing!

After they finished we went back to the cars. Ian hadn’t said anything about talking and I wasn’t going to bring it up. It was his suggestion we continue our conversation from Thursday, not mine. Had he forgotten I would have let it go and then come home and ranted about it here. But, he didn’t forget. He told Nick that he had to get going and Nick got in the car. I started over to my door and stood in front of it while Ian kind of paced back and forth. I think he was waiting for me to initiate something but I just couldn’t do it. I guess I needed to know that he really did want to talk to me. He wasn’t making a move to leave so I went and stood at the front of the car where he was pacing. Nick was still in the car, making fart sounds on his arm (kids...heh) and bouncing all over. Finally he said, “so, what’s up?” I said, “I don’t know, what’s up?”

“You said you wanted to talk today.” he said.
“Uh...no, you asked if I wanted to ‘talk about this on Sunday’ and I said ‘I guess.’ I don’t know Ian...what do you want to know?” We could do the back and forth thing all day so I decided to start talking, getting shit out.

I took a deep breath and let the explanation fly. The explanation as to why I can’t handle him touching me. I was determined not to cry, I’m tired of my own weakness, my loss of control. In a shaky voice I told him that when he touches me, I don’t want him to stop. The thought of him hugging me makes me feel terrified and elated at the same time...because I seriously want him to but at the same time I know he’s going home to someone else....because if I hugged him I would want to kiss him, kiss his neck, and I don’t trust myself not to do it. I don’t trust myself to ever let go and I just can’t let myself get THAT pitiful. Why make things worse? (Why...because they get worse all on their own...no assembly required.) All he could say was, “I’m sorry you feel that way.” The way he said it and his expression made me feel bad so I went on to say that it wasn’t like I found him repulsive or anything, just the opposite, and that I had to protect myself. He said he understood. I don’t know.

Then came time for the requests. This was infinitely harder than the explanation. I kept my sunglasses on so I could look past him but seem to be looking at him. I braced myself for the worst, knowing but not really knowing what I wanted him to say, knowing I had to ask.

“Ian, I need you to do something for me. I need you to tell me that you don’t love me anymore and that you are never, ever coming back.”

He stopped pacing. He looked at me and I saw sadness, shock, exasperation and I had to look away. I just wanted to hear what I had assumed all this time he would say, get it over with and finally know. Finally truly know. I was asking him to let me go and I just knew what he was going to say because I had imagined it all this time so it must be true. But...I heard something else, in a tone bound with sadness and regret...

“I can’t do that Dawn. I’m sorry. I can’t...I can’t tell you that. I don’t have a crystal ball. I can’t tell you what’s going to happen in the future. All I can tell you is that I wish I had done things differently.” And while he is talking he is shaking his head and looking at me like I just told him there was no Santa. He was stunned, I guess, that I would ask that of him.

I couldn’t say anything and we just stood there in silence for a few minutes. Finally I said, “I just miss you Ian. I want to talk to you and tell you about everything. You were my best friend. I would give anything for just one single day where I don’t think about you because we can’t ever be friends. I can’t stuff all the feelings down and pretend like we are just friends. No matter how much I miss you, it would be a lie and you know it. You know it because you haven’t let go either.”

He nodded his head at that. “You don’t think I have a daily inner struggle?”

“No. I mean...I don’t know Ian. You don’t tell me anything.”

“Well, I do and I’m just trying to not make this more horrible for you than it already has been,” he said.

“Believe me Ian, that’s not possible. You could never be as hard on me as I am on myself. I know I made the right decision when I asked you to leave, the right decision for the kids, but if I could take it back I would. You know, everyone told me how much better my life would be without you, but it‘s not. It hasn‘t been. And I‘ve tried! I moved hundreds of miles away and it didn‘t help.”

“I’m sorry Dawn. Again, all I can say is I wish I’d done things differently. I know that’s a totally ambiguous statement but...it’s all I can say.” Yes Mr. States-The-Obvious, that would pretty much define ambiguous. “I‘m sorry I can‘t say those things to you, the things you wanted me to say. I just can‘t do it.”

"So," I said, "we're just going to walk around like this..."

We pretty much ended it there. He said we’d talk more next week. Right now, I don’t really know what there is to say. And I need to end this entry because it has taken me two days to write it and I need to post it so I can rehash it in my next entry and try to figure out WHAT THE FUCK!!