It’s been months since I’ve talked to Frank. I’ve been purposely trying to avoid him since I’ve been pregnant and wanting to give my head and heart a break from the drama that comes with seeing and hearing him.
I saw him this week. We talked for a short time and all of the stuff I tried to forget was rushing back into me like a flash flood. One minute I had everything under control and the next the gates were ambushed and I saw him and heard his voice just as I have in the past. I tried so hard to concentrate and push everything aside but nothing worked. I eventually came back to earth and joined our conversation but it was hard. I was sitting, he was standing. When it was time to move, he extended his hand to help me up. That grip was enough to make me light on my feet. Damn him. He steadied me (low blood pressure at this point in my pregnancy doesn’t help either) and we said our good-byes.
We didn’t talk about anything in particular. We discussed how I was feeling and how my pregnancy was going. We laughed about my inability to pick out a name. I can’t yet tell if he’s genuinely happy for me or if he, too, is going through the motions of trying to maintain composure. Whatever the case may be, it was good to see him and even harder to forget.