I Don’t Miss Him, Even After I Call

Dimitry B.
Dimitry B.

Do you miss me? he asks.
I called him because I was curious.
I didn’t miss him at all.

Every time I call, he asks the same question.
Do you miss me?
Do you miss me?
Do you miss me?

I wonder how someone who left so abruptly can ask a question so lightly.

He talks to me like nothing happened
He still has my number saved and some of my belongings at his house.
I still have to look up who is calling because his number is the last thing I would save.
He’s a reminder of how people will bypass their actions
no matter how hurtful the actions were
and continue a conversation without apologizing.

He never apologized.

Yet he misses me.

I listen to him talk about his job
where he lives
what he is doing
he says he is so proud of me and glad he knows me.

He knows nothing about me.

He reminds me that all of my relationships are the same.
They never go away.

So I tell him,
I’m writing a book on the way you left me
and maybe after I finish this book, I’ll miss you.

I know I will never miss him.

He laughs, saying he will read it.

He says his misses my sense of humor.

He has no idea what he has missed.

And after we are done talking,
I am reminded once more of how glad I am
that I don’t miss him
because he was always the motivation to spend time with people
worth missing.

So I call him, not because I miss him
but because sometimes, I need that gentle reminder
a living, breathing caution sign
to never allow myself to return to someone
who has to ask if I miss them.

If I missed them,
they would already know. TC mark

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