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May. 26th, 2016 03:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lang_noriegavosMay 25th
9:30pm New York time (3:30am Amsterdam)
A close-up photo of Lang's smiling face interrupted the text message Sebastian was writing and he jumped when the ringtone followed a split second after.
Answering, he said, "Hey, what's up? Isn't it the middle of the night over there?"
Silence.
"Lang?"
"Yes," she answered.
"You alright? What's wrong?"
Again, silence.
"Lang, come on, you're starting to scare me. Did something happen? Are the kids okay?"
"Sorry. I'm tired. The kids are okay. They're both sleeping."
She could hear as he let out a slow breath. He could hear the exhaustion in her words.
"You generally don't call without a reason anymore," he said.
She was silent again and a faint yet familiar guitar melody floated in from the distant background. He debated if he should verbally prod her.
"I hate you," she blurted out. All the pent up anguish came out along with the words.
The admission caught him off guard, "What?"
"I hate you for all the things you're supposed to be that you're not."
"Uh...I don't know how to respond to that. What are you talking about?"
She sniffled. "You're supposed to be by my side for life."
Now he was quiet for a moment. "I thought you weren't filing for divorce?"
She was silent again.
"Lang, I'm sorry, I am so confused. Please help me out here."
"I don't want to," she answered, "but I feel like I need to."
"Oh." He paused and then added quickly, "Please don't." When she started crying, he realized that was probably the wrong thing to say. "Lang..."
"Why am I the one who's breaking down and you're just so... Don't you hurt, too?"
He nodded but realized she couldn't see it. "Yes."
"I spent all day Tuesday furious, furious. I was seconds away from buying a plane ticket with the excuse of coming to get the dog just so I could throw dishes at your head."
"Uh, well, you’re not here, so I guess you didn't do that," he said.
"No," she answered softly.
Now they were both silent.
"Lang," he ventured after a moment, "can we just..."
"Just what? There is no just. It's not that simple. I don't even know what I want one day to the next. I wish you understood how much I hurt. I wish you even cared."
"I do care! I can't argue when you're right. I thought I should just shut up and let you figure things out. I understand I get absolutely no say in the matter and it doesn't matter who you're sleeping with."
“Do you even know what Anneke’s doing in her dance class?” she asked.
“No, I don’t, but how could I? She wasn’t even in dance last time you let me participate,” he answered.
“She started in November.”
“Is she enjoying it?”
“Yes,” was all she said.
Again they were both quiet. He listened to the song in the background, realizing it was her voice and his guitar.
Gently, he asked, “Lang?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry for what I did.”
She hesitated a moment, “You keep saying that, Sebastian, but I have no reason to believe you.”
“Because you…” he let out a breath and started again, “will you give me a chance to show you?”
She didn’t answer.
“It was a passive-aggressive…” he stumbled, not finding the word he wanted, “for leaving me behind.”
“Yes. I know that.”
“Neither of us can move on in whatever direction until you forgive me. Aren’t you tired of being angry all the time?”
“You don’t get to make presumptions about me,” she snapped.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he answered.
She was quiet for a moment, letting him squirm. “It’s not something I can just turn off. What you did was unconscionably awful.”
“I know and I’m not asking you do that,” he sighed, “What I mean is… if you want to fix this or if you want to start something new with someone else, you have to be willing to let it go. There is nothing I can do unless you let me. I’m willing to do whatever you ask me to do.”
She thought for a moment before saying, “You need to make big changes. And honestly, I think you need to request a new route. If you were home earlier, you wouldn’t be so starved for my attention. I’m surprised Anneke even remembers what you look like. We’ve both been living completely separate lives for a long time.”
“Okay.”
“I need time to trust you again and you have to earn that trust. I realize I can’t expect you to know what I’m thinking and that I have to communicate with you.”
“Okay, he said again, “What do you want?”
“I want to feel loved. I don’t want to feel like you’re avoiding me. And above all, don’t resent me for accomplishing things. I don’t want to feel guilty for loving myself enough to pursue the things I’m passionate about. I don’t need you to be at every performance, but I need you to be there because you want to be and not because you think you can get something out of showing up. I want you to make time for us and I’m not talking Saturday or Sunday because you happen to already have time.”
“I will. I will do all of that.”
“And I will work on forgiveness.” She paused a moment. “You’re off on Monday. Come out here for the weekend. You’d have to leave early on Friday.”
“What about Boo?”
“Bring him. You just need a certificate from the vet saying he got his rabies shots and a shipping crate.”
“Okay. Okay, I can make it happen.”
“Then I’ll see you on Saturday,” she said.
“Hey Lang?”
“Yes?”
“All the bits and pieces that make you who you are, are all the reasons I—“
She cut him off, “Don’t. Don’t tell me you love me because I don’t know if I can say it back.”
“Okay. Then I’ll only say goodnight, Lang.”
She said her parting words and the line went cold.
9:30pm New York time (3:30am Amsterdam)
A close-up photo of Lang's smiling face interrupted the text message Sebastian was writing and he jumped when the ringtone followed a split second after.
Answering, he said, "Hey, what's up? Isn't it the middle of the night over there?"
Silence.
"Lang?"
"Yes," she answered.
"You alright? What's wrong?"
Again, silence.
"Lang, come on, you're starting to scare me. Did something happen? Are the kids okay?"
"Sorry. I'm tired. The kids are okay. They're both sleeping."
She could hear as he let out a slow breath. He could hear the exhaustion in her words.
"You generally don't call without a reason anymore," he said.
She was silent again and a faint yet familiar guitar melody floated in from the distant background. He debated if he should verbally prod her.
"I hate you," she blurted out. All the pent up anguish came out along with the words.
The admission caught him off guard, "What?"
"I hate you for all the things you're supposed to be that you're not."
"Uh...I don't know how to respond to that. What are you talking about?"
She sniffled. "You're supposed to be by my side for life."
Now he was quiet for a moment. "I thought you weren't filing for divorce?"
She was silent again.
"Lang, I'm sorry, I am so confused. Please help me out here."
"I don't want to," she answered, "but I feel like I need to."
"Oh." He paused and then added quickly, "Please don't." When she started crying, he realized that was probably the wrong thing to say. "Lang..."
"Why am I the one who's breaking down and you're just so... Don't you hurt, too?"
He nodded but realized she couldn't see it. "Yes."
"I spent all day Tuesday furious, furious. I was seconds away from buying a plane ticket with the excuse of coming to get the dog just so I could throw dishes at your head."
"Uh, well, you’re not here, so I guess you didn't do that," he said.
"No," she answered softly.
Now they were both silent.
"Lang," he ventured after a moment, "can we just..."
"Just what? There is no just. It's not that simple. I don't even know what I want one day to the next. I wish you understood how much I hurt. I wish you even cared."
"I do care! I can't argue when you're right. I thought I should just shut up and let you figure things out. I understand I get absolutely no say in the matter and it doesn't matter who you're sleeping with."
“Do you even know what Anneke’s doing in her dance class?” she asked.
“No, I don’t, but how could I? She wasn’t even in dance last time you let me participate,” he answered.
“She started in November.”
“Is she enjoying it?”
“Yes,” was all she said.
Again they were both quiet. He listened to the song in the background, realizing it was her voice and his guitar.
Gently, he asked, “Lang?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry for what I did.”
She hesitated a moment, “You keep saying that, Sebastian, but I have no reason to believe you.”
“Because you…” he let out a breath and started again, “will you give me a chance to show you?”
She didn’t answer.
“It was a passive-aggressive…” he stumbled, not finding the word he wanted, “for leaving me behind.”
“Yes. I know that.”
“Neither of us can move on in whatever direction until you forgive me. Aren’t you tired of being angry all the time?”
“You don’t get to make presumptions about me,” she snapped.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he answered.
She was quiet for a moment, letting him squirm. “It’s not something I can just turn off. What you did was unconscionably awful.”
“I know and I’m not asking you do that,” he sighed, “What I mean is… if you want to fix this or if you want to start something new with someone else, you have to be willing to let it go. There is nothing I can do unless you let me. I’m willing to do whatever you ask me to do.”
She thought for a moment before saying, “You need to make big changes. And honestly, I think you need to request a new route. If you were home earlier, you wouldn’t be so starved for my attention. I’m surprised Anneke even remembers what you look like. We’ve both been living completely separate lives for a long time.”
“Okay.”
“I need time to trust you again and you have to earn that trust. I realize I can’t expect you to know what I’m thinking and that I have to communicate with you.”
“Okay, he said again, “What do you want?”
“I want to feel loved. I don’t want to feel like you’re avoiding me. And above all, don’t resent me for accomplishing things. I don’t want to feel guilty for loving myself enough to pursue the things I’m passionate about. I don’t need you to be at every performance, but I need you to be there because you want to be and not because you think you can get something out of showing up. I want you to make time for us and I’m not talking Saturday or Sunday because you happen to already have time.”
“I will. I will do all of that.”
“And I will work on forgiveness.” She paused a moment. “You’re off on Monday. Come out here for the weekend. You’d have to leave early on Friday.”
“What about Boo?”
“Bring him. You just need a certificate from the vet saying he got his rabies shots and a shipping crate.”
“Okay. Okay, I can make it happen.”
“Then I’ll see you on Saturday,” she said.
“Hey Lang?”
“Yes?”
“All the bits and pieces that make you who you are, are all the reasons I—“
She cut him off, “Don’t. Don’t tell me you love me because I don’t know if I can say it back.”
“Okay. Then I’ll only say goodnight, Lang.”
She said her parting words and the line went cold.
