Somewhere Along in the Bitterness

And that worked for about a minute and a half.

She noticed the difference in my interactions with her right away.

My adoring comments to her on Facebook abruptly stopped. Comments that I'd normally make acknowledging our extraordinary friendship ceased to be. I had hardened my heart a little bit from the betrayal. Statements like that would be like vinegar on my tongue now. I'd always done so much to build her up when she'd been down. Support her in her dreams. Root for her in her often kooky undertakings. I could not believe that she'd disregarded what I'd shared with her, that she'd thrown it away in favor of her own needs. I'd never thought her a narcissist. But I was beginning to think otherwise.

And now, my correspondence was no more intimate or thoughtful than what you'd write to your cold, uninteresting, unwelcoming mother-in-law who lives on another coast and you don't give a hang about.

So she amped up the attempts to connect with me.

Admittedly, with the Magical Disappearing Scott Act, we had corresponded more frequently than normal.  But under normal circumstances, we'd just comment on FB. Very few direct emails, very little messaging. Maybe two phone calls a year. Tops.

Now it was like she was gnat buzzing around my head at all times of day and night.

I'd try to avoid her but she would not relent. Would. Not. More tenacious than I'd ever known her to be. How nice for me!

For instance, one morning she sent me three texts, minutes apart, that I did not immediately open and read.

When I finally caved and realized they were benign texts about plans with her mother, I responded telling her to tell the dear woman hello from me. And I'd question why I was doing this to her.

And once she knew that my phone was in my hand and I was answering, she'd ask a direct question, fishing for information. Dammit.

And once again, I'd start ignoring her.

I was not at all sure how this was going to end. But I knew this was a game I had no idea how to play.