29 February 2004
11:30 Local
Home of Sarah MacKenzie
I was hunched over my desk, paper before me; pen in hand, presently occupied between my teeth. I was chewing not only on the end of the pen, but what I was going to say. I had my say yesterday with Clay, but considering he passed out about halfway through my speech, I decided I would follow-up with a note. I really didn't want to see him again. Under the circumstances, I didn't think that it was heartless to break up with a guy with a note if you'd made a good faith effort to do so in person.
"Dear Clay,
After my visit last night, I thought it might be a good idea to send you this note to reaffirm what I said. If you remember what I said, you can just stop now and throw this note away. I don't mean to 'rub it in' but I also don't want there to be any misunderstandings between us.
While I do love you for all you did for me in Paraguay, and since, I'm afraid that I don't love you in the way that . . . "
I went on to reiterate everything I said in his apartment the day before. After adding a postscript to clarify that I didn't want to see him, and would refuse any mission posed by the CIA either to me, or to my commanding officer, I sealed it, addressed it, put a stamp on it, and put it in my handbag. I decided I would take it to the post office that afternoon.
I moved to the kitchen for a fresh cup of tea. I had decided to switch from my beloved coffee to try to help calm my nerves and to sleep a little better at night. I was starting to feel better; better than I had since before Saddiq started stalking me. The emotions were still swirling around, but having decided to go back to the doctor for more therapy and ending things with Clay gave me some sense that I was moving forward, and putting the bad times behind me. I was accepting the things I couldn't change, and changing the things I could. Thank God that, at least with Clay, I had the wisdom to know the difference.
I moved to the kitchen table, opening the newspaper when the phone rang. I tried not to let it affect me, but there was no mistaking the rapid beat of my heart when I saw "Rabb, Harmon" appear on the caller ID.
"Hi, Harm," I chirped cheerfully into the phone, surprised to realize that the enthusiasm in my voice was real for the first time in weeks.
"Hi, Mac," his warm baritone greeted me. "How are you feeling today?" "I'm doing pretty good, Harm," I responded truthfully. I hoped he could hear the difference in my voice. "Thanks for asking, and thanks for everything you've done for me lately. I do appreciate it."
"Anytime, Tiger," Harm said, a little laugh in his voice. "I like that nickname, and I think it's a keeper."
I laughed out loud, and it felt so good. "All right, all right, if it makes you happy, I guess it's a small price to pay."
"Listen, Mac, the reason I called is that Mattie & Jen want to go to the movies and suggested you might join us. Maybe we'll go out to eat after?"
"That sounds like fun, Harm, what are we going to see?" And it did sound like fun. It was just what I needed: to get out of my head for a little while.
"Well, the girls want to see what sounds a lot like a chick flick, I think it's called '50 First Dates' or something like that," Harm sounded less than thrilled. "I was hoping you might keep me company in something a little more substantial."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Did you see that Jack Nicholson movie?" he asked hopefully.
"Harm, 'Something's Gotta Give" is probably a chick flick, too," I laughed merrily at his dilemma.
"Well, at least it sounds a little more mature," he responded defensively.
"Harm, thanks for asking me. I'd love to go," I said, injecting as much warmth into my voice as I could. "I've wanted to see that for a while."
We agreed that they would pick me up at 13:00 for an early afternoon show, and we'd go out for dinner at the Friday's near the theater after the show. After hanging up the phone, with a bounce in my step I hadn't felt in a long time, I set about cleaning up the apartment, and getting ready for our outing.
Same day 18:05 Georgetown
As Harm pulled the SUV onto my street we were still laughing at Mattie's story of a 'really dorky guy at school' who would eat anything that wasn't tied down or freshly painted. I looked into my bag for my keys and heard Harm mutter a soft 'shit'. I looked up to see Clayton Webb leaning against his car parked right in front of my building.
"Shit" I whispered.
tbc
I was hunched over my desk, paper before me; pen in hand, presently occupied between my teeth. I was chewing not only on the end of the pen, but what I was going to say. I had my say yesterday with Clay, but considering he passed out about halfway through my speech, I decided I would follow-up with a note. I really didn't want to see him again. Under the circumstances, I didn't think that it was heartless to break up with a guy with a note if you'd made a good faith effort to do so in person.
"Dear Clay,
After my visit last night, I thought it might be a good idea to send you this note to reaffirm what I said. If you remember what I said, you can just stop now and throw this note away. I don't mean to 'rub it in' but I also don't want there to be any misunderstandings between us.
While I do love you for all you did for me in Paraguay, and since, I'm afraid that I don't love you in the way that . . . "
I went on to reiterate everything I said in his apartment the day before. After adding a postscript to clarify that I didn't want to see him, and would refuse any mission posed by the CIA either to me, or to my commanding officer, I sealed it, addressed it, put a stamp on it, and put it in my handbag. I decided I would take it to the post office that afternoon.
I moved to the kitchen for a fresh cup of tea. I had decided to switch from my beloved coffee to try to help calm my nerves and to sleep a little better at night. I was starting to feel better; better than I had since before Saddiq started stalking me. The emotions were still swirling around, but having decided to go back to the doctor for more therapy and ending things with Clay gave me some sense that I was moving forward, and putting the bad times behind me. I was accepting the things I couldn't change, and changing the things I could. Thank God that, at least with Clay, I had the wisdom to know the difference.
I moved to the kitchen table, opening the newspaper when the phone rang. I tried not to let it affect me, but there was no mistaking the rapid beat of my heart when I saw "Rabb, Harmon" appear on the caller ID.
"Hi, Harm," I chirped cheerfully into the phone, surprised to realize that the enthusiasm in my voice was real for the first time in weeks.
"Hi, Mac," his warm baritone greeted me. "How are you feeling today?" "I'm doing pretty good, Harm," I responded truthfully. I hoped he could hear the difference in my voice. "Thanks for asking, and thanks for everything you've done for me lately. I do appreciate it."
"Anytime, Tiger," Harm said, a little laugh in his voice. "I like that nickname, and I think it's a keeper."
I laughed out loud, and it felt so good. "All right, all right, if it makes you happy, I guess it's a small price to pay."
"Listen, Mac, the reason I called is that Mattie & Jen want to go to the movies and suggested you might join us. Maybe we'll go out to eat after?"
"That sounds like fun, Harm, what are we going to see?" And it did sound like fun. It was just what I needed: to get out of my head for a little while.
"Well, the girls want to see what sounds a lot like a chick flick, I think it's called '50 First Dates' or something like that," Harm sounded less than thrilled. "I was hoping you might keep me company in something a little more substantial."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Did you see that Jack Nicholson movie?" he asked hopefully.
"Harm, 'Something's Gotta Give" is probably a chick flick, too," I laughed merrily at his dilemma.
"Well, at least it sounds a little more mature," he responded defensively.
"Harm, thanks for asking me. I'd love to go," I said, injecting as much warmth into my voice as I could. "I've wanted to see that for a while."
We agreed that they would pick me up at 13:00 for an early afternoon show, and we'd go out for dinner at the Friday's near the theater after the show. After hanging up the phone, with a bounce in my step I hadn't felt in a long time, I set about cleaning up the apartment, and getting ready for our outing.
Same day 18:05 Georgetown
As Harm pulled the SUV onto my street we were still laughing at Mattie's story of a 'really dorky guy at school' who would eat anything that wasn't tied down or freshly painted. I looked into my bag for my keys and heard Harm mutter a soft 'shit'. I looked up to see Clayton Webb leaning against his car parked right in front of my building.
"Shit" I whispered.
tbc