It's a bad day for it
Mar. 27th, 2005 11:29![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torquillbut I really want to talk to Wayne. He's a devout Christian -- Catholic, I think -- so today is one of the worst possible days to try to call him.
I miss him. Sorely. There are many friends whom I've lost track of over the years, where we've drifted apart; even my old friend Deneva who stuck by me for ten years of school hell is distant now, somewhere off in Colorado with her husband and kids. I lost track of Rob Harbin, Steve Mikkelson, Josh, Jocelyn... I wonder how they are now, but I don't have the urge to make that extra effort to get back in touch. People drift apart, this is life, and friends come and go. Aimée is the only one I can think of whom I'd like to track down, and I need to talk to the alumni organization at UPS to see whether I can find her. She may be in Paris these days.
But Wayne is still here, still has the same numbers he did when we were in high school, still spends a lot of his time at his parents' house which I used to walk to on hot summer days and in the rain, back when I was wandering Pleasant Hill lonely and on foot. He is still in my thoughts a great deal, even though the last time I talked to him was for two minutes on my birthday last August, and the last time I saw him was over a year ago for coffee. I dream about him every so often, and occasionally I call his phone to leave him voice mail. His message is the same, but I never hear back.
It's not like he doesn't want to talk to me -- every time I do talk with him, he is obviously delighted, and says wistfully that we should spend more time together. Then he pauses, and I hear the inevitable, "my dad needs to use the phone" or "my dad needs me, can I call you back?" and it's another nine months.
I worry about him, a lot. He doesn't have apron strings, he has family ties that leave him trussed like a spider's lunch. I appreciate family loyalty, and that he has a large family which needs him, but between work and family obligations I worry that he never has any time to himself. He certainly has no time to socialize, which (I told him) is the rebuttal he should use to the inevitable "why haven't you settled down?" whines from aunts and parents. He has no time to date, because his family eats his life.
I want to talk to him. I want to tell him that he means a lot to me, and that it hurts to see him in what is essentially an abusive relationship, isolating and stifling. I don't think he checks the email address I have for him, and I'm afraid that his dad has access to his voice mail. I also think he probably still lives at home; he's been trying to move out for a couple of years, but I suspect his parents have quietly stymied that even now. That precludes sending him snail-mail or dropping by his house. And every time I call his dad bumps him off the phone.
Granted, apparently his parents like me (heaven knows why). That means that at least his father is civil to me when I call and Wayne isn't home... but I really don't think he passes on he messages that I've called.
I don't really know what to do anymore. I have a crazy idea that I think I'm actually going to do, but whether it'll work is beyond my power to guess: write a letter to him, post it with password protection on my website, then leave the URL on his voicemail with a password hint. Maybe the cloak-and-dagger will make him take time out to read it. And I could say what I want to without worrying that it would fall on the wrong ears.
I don't know. I just don't know. This has been going on for six years, and I want to do something. Hell if I know what to do.
I miss him. Sorely. There are many friends whom I've lost track of over the years, where we've drifted apart; even my old friend Deneva who stuck by me for ten years of school hell is distant now, somewhere off in Colorado with her husband and kids. I lost track of Rob Harbin, Steve Mikkelson, Josh, Jocelyn... I wonder how they are now, but I don't have the urge to make that extra effort to get back in touch. People drift apart, this is life, and friends come and go. Aimée is the only one I can think of whom I'd like to track down, and I need to talk to the alumni organization at UPS to see whether I can find her. She may be in Paris these days.
But Wayne is still here, still has the same numbers he did when we were in high school, still spends a lot of his time at his parents' house which I used to walk to on hot summer days and in the rain, back when I was wandering Pleasant Hill lonely and on foot. He is still in my thoughts a great deal, even though the last time I talked to him was for two minutes on my birthday last August, and the last time I saw him was over a year ago for coffee. I dream about him every so often, and occasionally I call his phone to leave him voice mail. His message is the same, but I never hear back.
It's not like he doesn't want to talk to me -- every time I do talk with him, he is obviously delighted, and says wistfully that we should spend more time together. Then he pauses, and I hear the inevitable, "my dad needs to use the phone" or "my dad needs me, can I call you back?" and it's another nine months.
I worry about him, a lot. He doesn't have apron strings, he has family ties that leave him trussed like a spider's lunch. I appreciate family loyalty, and that he has a large family which needs him, but between work and family obligations I worry that he never has any time to himself. He certainly has no time to socialize, which (I told him) is the rebuttal he should use to the inevitable "why haven't you settled down?" whines from aunts and parents. He has no time to date, because his family eats his life.
I want to talk to him. I want to tell him that he means a lot to me, and that it hurts to see him in what is essentially an abusive relationship, isolating and stifling. I don't think he checks the email address I have for him, and I'm afraid that his dad has access to his voice mail. I also think he probably still lives at home; he's been trying to move out for a couple of years, but I suspect his parents have quietly stymied that even now. That precludes sending him snail-mail or dropping by his house. And every time I call his dad bumps him off the phone.
Granted, apparently his parents like me (heaven knows why). That means that at least his father is civil to me when I call and Wayne isn't home... but I really don't think he passes on he messages that I've called.
I don't really know what to do anymore. I have a crazy idea that I think I'm actually going to do, but whether it'll work is beyond my power to guess: write a letter to him, post it with password protection on my website, then leave the URL on his voicemail with a password hint. Maybe the cloak-and-dagger will make him take time out to read it. And I could say what I want to without worrying that it would fall on the wrong ears.
I don't know. I just don't know. This has been going on for six years, and I want to do something. Hell if I know what to do.
