Mark asked if I was involved with someone, given that the last time we had spoken to each other, the circumstances had seemed much more…mutual. Although I wasn’t quite sure how to respond, I did so with surprising honesty.

“Sort of,” I admitted. “I’m not really sure what’s going on.  It’s confusing.”

I didn’t know how to explain to him that, from the outside perspective, I couldn’t actually claim to be seeing anyone.  The weeks leading up to the confrontation were unsettling ones – at least, emotionally – and even I wasn’t sure where I stood in my own romantic front.  I had been treading carefully, afraid to do or say the slightest wrong thing that might make waves or upset the status quo, but I couldn’t tell if that was aiding or exacerbating the situation.

I tried to go about my daily living, keeping to myself the tiny flutters in my stomach that would instantly follow a random hello or other tidbit of communication from him.  Don’t let it get to you, I told myself.

Mark didn’t quite understand, and I really hadn’t expected him to.  I couldn’t give him a distinct reason for reneging on my initial interest in catching up with him, and while part of me struggled with the slightly bruised look in his eye and the pain in his voice, I found myself overwhelmed with relief.

This is what we had needed, for each of us.  To let go.

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