This is really a follow-up to yesterday’s post “The gauntlet has been thrown,” so if you haven’t read it, you may want to do so first to get the gist of this situation.

I could hardly work on Tuesday. I was completely brain-dead from an overly-emotional night capped off with a mere four hours of sleep. And it wasn’t that I was just tired… I was SAD. The rage had tapered off and all I wanted to do was cry through my three-hour morning meeting. I was sad for myself and my own hurt, disappointed in my actions and my willingness to trust again so quickly, and, like a sap, sad for him and whatever was inside him that was making him do this. It was tearing my guts out to think of him so locked up inside himself because deep down, for all my angry words and screaming and stomping, I knew where he was. I’d done it. I’d shut out the world and the people I loved and hidden in my bed, curled into a ball and unable to deal with the simplest things from a fear I couldn’t name. And I thought about me, about who I was at that point in my life and the way everything and everyone seemed to be putting such immense pressure on me when all anyone wanted was for me to be better.

I’d done it too. And I survived it because people yelled at me and made me get out of bed and LIVE when I was afraid of the mysterious whatever.

“Just… life,” he says at his apartment later, after my completely unproductive work day. “I’m scared of everything, of so many things I want to change and so many things I feel like I can’t change.”

“Why are you afraid of me?” I ask quietly. He doesn’t say anything, but flops backward onto his bed. “You told me over and over that you wanted to be more open with me and more able to share those things with me so I could be there for you. But you’ve got to tell me, E. You’ve got to let me in.”

“I was scared because the other night you said you love me.”

“You’ve been going on and on about how you’ve never stopped loving me,” I remind him. “You got this big stupid grin on your face when I said it. So when I told you I’ll give you the chance you asked for, what scares you about that?”

“Because now it’s real.”

I lay back on the bed with him and we stare at the ceiling. “I know you’re scared of a lot of things,” I say. “So am I.”

“What are you scared of?” he asks.

“My job, I hate my job and I’m scared to even look for another one. I’m scared of being stuck here. I want to move, I want an adventure and I’m afraid to even try. And I’m scared of you hurting me again. I’m fucking terrified.”

“Oh.”

I roll over and look at him. “I thought we were supposed to help each other, E. Not shut one another out. You feel so alone and scared and you say you need me, but you have to let me in. And you have to take care of me too. I have things I need from you and you have to give those to me just like I want to for you. There’s no other way to do this.”

He turns and faces me, puts a hand in my hair and brushes it out of my face. “I do need you. I wasn’t lying when I said that. You’re the only person who makes me believe I can make my life better – I feel inside like I can do more with myself and one of the reasons I love you is because you push me to do that.”

“You need me to scream at you and tell you to grow balls?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to have to be a bitch to get you to treat me right,” I say firmly. “I will not do that. I don’t deserve that. You have to step up, because I’m not going to hurt myself just to wake your dumb ass up. I may have gone a little crazy, but I’m not replaying last night.”

“I deserved that.” He looks miserable.

“It’s not that complicated,” I continue. “You – WE don’t have to make this so complicated. Just do one thing at a time. Job later. Apartment later. This is today. You love me?”

“Yes.”

“You want us to build a relationship together?”

“Yes.”

“You understand that I’m not proposing to you or anything?”

“Yes, but if we head that way–“

“You said you wanted that. Do you?”

“Yes. But it scares me.”

“God, E, it scares me too! But quit worrying about that now! We’re NOT THERE. We’re not on a stupid timeline. I wouldn’t marry you now if you asked me. If we can just get on the right track and do this together, THAT is what I want. I need you to give things to me too. I need you to call me back. I need you to keep promises. I need to feel like I am a priority in your life and I need you to consider my feelings when you make decisions. That’s it. That’s all I need from you right now. Can you just focus on that?”

“Baby, I love you. I don’t ever want to hurt you, but it’s hard for me to open up because then you… you see my weaknesses. And I never wanted to show you that.”

“Answer me. Can you give me those things I told you I need? Because if you can’t promise me that, I am walking, no matter how much you need me. You can’t tell me you’re scared to just be respectful and caring to your girlfriend. Make me little promises. Promise you’ll call and then do it – just simple things so you can help me trust you again. Can you do that?”

He closes his eyes and pulls me across the bed to hold me close. “Yes,” he says.

I push him back a bit and look him in the eye. “Say it again and look at me. Promise me you’ll just do those damn simple things and I will be there for what you need, for your weaknesses, for whatever it is.”

“I promise.” I want so desperately to believe him.

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And so we tried to recapture what we had before that was simple and good. Again. We go to the grocery store and pick up a chicken, some veggies and biscuits and a bottle of wine. We cook together in my little kitchen and give little kisses across the counter like we always used to. I set up the trays in the living room so we can watch the baseball game, and he brings out the plates. He really can be very sweet sometimes, asking me if I want more of this or that, telling me the potatoes I cooked are good even when they sucked (there’s a reason only one of us is a chef) and saying “thank you, baby” when I bring him another drink.

“I just want to watch a movie and curl up with you tonight,” he says tiredly, pulling my feet into his lap and rubbing them as I push the trays out of the way.

“Mmmm, that sounds nice.” I close my eyes. “Let’s pick something out.”

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Why does it seem that we are always so good together when we’re in my house? Why do we hold each other close there, make promises and make dinner and make love there, and then walk outside into fear?

I’m still scared of so many things but I don’t always want to curl up in my bed and hide anymore. I want to face things, and I’ll come right out and admit that I want to face them with someone by my side because I need help sometimes too. Maybe that’s why I wanted to give him that chance, why I’m already putting up with what hurt me before, why I’m screaming at him to be a man – because when I was in that blocked-off state of mind, someone pushed me and I finally got up. What he does hurts me because I care about him, not just about myself. And maybe that’s why I’m still such a fool for him, because I recognize the pain in him that was in me, the fear that I thought I could hide from everyone, and because I love him I can’t let that go.

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I pull his feet up into my lap and we do mutual footrubs for a minute. Then my phone rings and the tone of the night completely changes.