He promised me he'd take my call and respond. And i've already called him seventeen times. If my calls were in quick succession i might absolve him of this contretemps but i've spaced out my calls. A phone call every hour. The nature of exigencies alerts me to the fact that he might be caught up, be busy or preoccupied. But seventeen hours is a long time and i wonder if something calamitous has occurred. I hope he is safe.
Seventeen hours is enough time for anyone to check their phone. I don't expect a call back but at least a message, however truncated, to suggest that my presence has been registered. I am really unsure about how to interpret what has transpired. Though it is the absence of anything having transpired tangibly that worries me in the first place.
I've sent along a few messages. My frustration is mounting. I want to slam my phone against the wall, break this egregious, intractable excrescence into irreparable shards. But the termination of such an endeavour would offset the resolution to this conundrum i find myself in. I both need the phone yet deny its superseding my own sense of my well being. I long for a cessation of this predicament yet its protraction keeps me alive.
And i can't believe that i am of such negligible significance that he'd obliterate me from his daily life so precipitantly. He has not even told me where he has gone and in the absence of information i have only my convoluted misapprehensions at hand. I know my reasoning is bound to be faulty and importunate but knowing is insufficient. It does not alleviate anxiety and augments discomfiture.
I pick up the phone and dial his number. Then i put the phone down. I type out a text message but delete it before sending it. Then i hang up the phone in the middle of dialling his number. I think of calling up his workplace but even they might be unaware of his whereabouts. I think of calling up his wife, a desperate measure because it might bring about our relationship to an end. I long to alert her about our relationship while simultaneously suppressing that impulse. A disorientation has occurred. I begin desiring contradictory things at the same time. I both need him yet am repulsed by him, both want to end our relationship and hold on to him with intransigent certitude, desire, ineluctably, both his unhappiness and my own misery.
And ultimately despite this whole apparatus of worrying and self tormenting he will either call up or not call. I guess i'll just have to deal with it.