i told him

I told him everything.

He said he was really uncomfortable last year when he found out I was going to a conference that the Doctor would also be at, but he didn't say anything at the time. His friend told him that he was a fool to let me go, to trust me, and still he said nothing to me because he wanted to trust me 100%.

We were in the local burger joint tonight for dinner. While ordering, I made a pact with myself that I would tell him after our appetizer dip comes out, that I wouldn't wait for the burgers. I had practiced what I would say already over and over and over again. Over hot creamy spinach and artichoke, brushing the salt of the chips from my fingers, I took a deep breath and blurted out that I wanted to talk to him about something.

"Remember when you were really sick last year?" He nodded.

"Remember when you thought that I would break up with you then?" He rolled his eyes, and nodded again. It's a sore point.

"Well, I did want to break up with you, but I didn't want to do it while you were sick, so I waited. When you got better, I still didn't break up with you, and looking back, I am really really glad because things got better. Lately, I've thought a lot about how much I love you and how I know I want to be with you forever."

He pressed his lips together, turned up a corner and smiled, nodded, and reached his hand over the table to stroke my face.

"Because I want to be with you forever, I have to tell you something," I continued.

"Remember when I went to that conference while you were sick?" He nodded.

"Well, while I was there, I slept with my ex-boyfriend."

His facial expression was exactly as I imagined it would be. It was the look of needing to get away, not from anger, not from hurt, not really from any particular emotion. It was the look of just needing to not be here, or there. He squeezed his face with both of his hands, squeezing through the tip of his nose, put his arm on the back of the chair next to him, took it down, didn't know where to put his arm, looked away ... He finally got up and said he needed to go outside for some fresh air.

I didn't think he would come back. He did, just a few minutes later. He asked for all our food to be packed up. I asked if I could go with him, and he nodded. We got into his car, and he started driving aimlessly.

In the car, I explained more, that it doesn't make what I did any less wrong, but I thought we would break up when I was at the conference, that the Doctor insisted and insisted and insisted. I repeated how sorry I was, and that I know what I did was absolutely wrong. There are no justifications and no excuses. Both of our eyes were filled with tears.

At some point, we got on the highway and started driving north, got off the highway and started driving south, drove all around some back roads, and somehow or other ended up at his childhood home in the deep suburbs. I had never been there before, and had bugged him for a while for having never shown me where he grew up.

Sitting there, parked at the bottom of the driveway, next to the woods, he told me about the apple tree he planted when he was little. He pointed out the direction of the creek that he had told me about a few times before (it was too dark/foggy/rainy to see anything). I asked him if his parents built the house, and he said no, but he does remember having tarp everywhere around the house when he was such a little kid because his parents had to fix up just about everything in the old house that they bought ...

He told me about the time he was about 10, and his dad drove with him to his mother's pottery studio some couple of towns over because his dad had somehow been tipped off that she was there having an affair. The guy's car sped off just as he and his dad got there. He told me there were several others after that guy. Always with his mother. His dad never did anything. Nothing that betrayed his mother, and nothing about his mother's betrayals.

He said that he wanted to kill the Doctor. I said that I have hated the Doctor ever since.

We talked about some random things, some not so random things. The rain picked up, pounding relentlessly on the roof of the car. The rain ebbed, and he tried to show me the city skyline from the top of a hill he used to sled down as a kid. It was still too foggy to see anything. Eventually we came back to the city and drove up to the front of my building. He left the car running, but we kept talking.

I didn't want to leave the car.

He said that it is human nature to forgive, but you can never forget. He blamed himself, for taking me for granted when he was sick, so early in our relationship, taking it for granted that I would stick around no matter what. He blamed himself for being an idiot in so many ways. I told him that he shouldn't blame himself, that what I did was wrong no matter what the circumstances were, that I did way more wrong than he ever could have by taking me for granted.

He said that it wasn't a competition, that right is right, and wrong is wrong, and he did wrong because right and wrong are black and white.

He said that he doesn't know what to do with all this. I told him what I wanted him to do: to forgive me and to trust me still, that while I can't expect him to do that, and while I would understand if he couldn't accept that, I still had to ask, just in case. I added that, as silly and fake as it sounds, what happened would never ever happen again.

He said that he had no doubt I meant what I said, but that the stars align to make the same situation in different ways, that the real answer is that it WILL happen again. The real question is whether or not he can take that risk, and whether or not he will be strong enough to face it again.

I didn't want to leave the car, but finally got up the strength to gather up my things and opened the door. There were a great many other things we said, but there was no conclusion. He said that he just needed some time to think, and that we will start from the top again tomorrow.