Figure eight

His insecurity comes out unannounced and at jagged intervals, as if personalities could have Tourettes syndrome. We all were going from call, to call, to call, with no time to eat or catch our breath, or wipe our brows in between. And my phone rings during a momentary stillness and he tells me that I hope you're not worrying, I'm not ignoring you and I wondered about the thought of his behind the reason for the call. Then later my phone rings again and it's raining and I'm flying down the highway. He tells me I need to take a break, when it rains we slow down, and I tell him that I'm pretty sure I'm not sweet enough to melt if I get a little wet. He does his mutt-laugh and I tell him, in jest, that I think he might though, so he should stay dry and cozy in his car. There is an awkward silence followed by his mutt laugh and only then do I realize the full effect of my words. The power that you hand over when you want the other person to desire you. He tells me, you know you would be stuck with me and waits for the response. There is none, from me, and he asks if I would meet him somewhere.

And I felt so lonely for him, but couldn't explain why. Not even to myself.

Later in his self-conscious ramblings his lips are saying that my blue eyes are penetrating, like a wolf, like the lone wolf. And it comes out, in his boyish flirtations, that he's jealous of the attention that I get from the others. My ears perk up and I can tell that he is waiting for a response that would indicate my level of interest. Like a bastard, like the lone wolf, I let the silence surround us and watch him watching me. Maybe I am too much of the predator, too much of the time. I am thinking about how soon he'll be gone when we get the call, injury MVA, we go flying to it lights and sirens breaking up the dark humidity of the night. We split the call in half and later compare notes. He is helping me when I handcuff the sobbing child of a man with whom I was dealing; he leans into me as I tighten the first cuff, his weight against me, breath on my neck as I am engaging the double lock. I look up and laugh and he just says My God...

He makes me promise that I would be honest with him if I thought he wasn't pulling his weight. He thanks me for following up on a task that I was charged with. He calls for me with a question when I am already halfway down the hallway, leaving. The way my name sounds when he says it. What is it that I do to you?

St. Teresa intercede on my behalf...