I had to address it. I had to know what he would say back in explanation. I dreamt of a heartfelt apology. What he had done had caused unbelievable tears. I had never seen anything like them besides the fat raindrops that slowly fell, resisting gravity, at the beginning of a hot summer storm. I kept my head perpendicular to the ground to watch them as they fell, some hitting my thighs. Snow globes shattering, the shards slinking down my legs, and pooling on my skin. I was mesmerized by them.
Thinking back on this conversation has consistently left me confused, uncertain and the want of an apology long abandoned. Years have passed and the tears have dried.
Often, I imagine conversations to sort something out. I was binge-watching Sex and the City and just finished the first movie post the original series. Not yet transitioning to “And Just Like That…”.
I wondered how this would be discussed on the show. I never saw it addressed in the six seasons. I imagined my conversation with Carrie, integrating myself as one of her rotating satellite friends. One that moves the plot for one episode and is never seen again. We met in Tallahassee, and I am telling her about the conversation I had with him.
She writes about it:
It was a hot, steamy day in Tallahassee. The kind of day that makes eggs fry on sidewalks. While men admired sticky summer dresses, women felt the burning fire of chafing on their way to the grocery store. We hovered in the ice cream section with the freezer doors wide open in front of us.
“You won’t believe the conversation I had last night.”
I was with my new girlfriend Shelby, a southern charmer with a knack for witticisms.
“With who?”
“My ex. The first one! The very first one.”
I thought of my first ex… and immediately stopped.
“Well, what happened?”
“I asked him, finally. I had the conversation.”
After a bout with depression, anxiety, and the regular grueling Molotov cocktail of a breakup, Shelby fought her battles and won. She was ready to let go and get on with her life.
“And? What did he say?”
The ice cream in the frozen yogurt section began to sag and drip so we talked as we walked to the novelty popsicles. Misshapen superheroes and patriotic pops greeted us as we opened the doors.
“Well, I told him what he did and I asked him, ‘You know what you did to me right?’ I laid it all out from start to finish, so there was no confusion. And do you know what he said to me? The asshole. He said, ‘If I had done that to you, I would kill myself.’”
I dropped the all-natural strawberry pops I was holding.
“I thought, either he can’t handle the truth of his own actions, or this is one last shot to emotionally manipulate and destroy me.”
Then she began to cry.
There was more to this Molotov than I knew and now the novelty ice creams weren’t the only things melting down.
And I couldn’t help but wonder…
But I don’t know what she wonders. Some topics are too difficult, even for the sexually liberated women of Sex and the City.