I still had too many questions. Unfortunately, they each led to a door that I didn't want opened. Koty called and emailed me, but I ignored him. I felt that he wasn't being honest with me and I wasn't ready to find out why. Lately, I picked up my mother's journal again. Heavy like a brick in my hand, I struggled. Maybe I'd find answers that I have overlooked. It was worth a try. I might have missed some clue.
I reclined on the couch, needing soft music in the background to calm me. Then I flipped through the pages, unsure of what I might find. Sure, I read a lot of it, but I skipped some passages that seemed more like a psychotic break than any testimony. Others seemed touching or heart-breaking. Why am I crying?
Dear Diary,
Let me tell you my secrets. No one wants to hear them. I only have you. After all, who would believe me? I'm just a blue collar worker, scraping by. I have a daughter to care for. I want to protect her, but I don't know how.
I read my mother's deepest revelations. They saddened me. After a while, I put down the journal as my thoughts came out to confront me. Like her, I have obsessions. I keep them in check or at least try to. Interestingly, my mother suffered from crushes. When I was younger, I'd watch her part the dark pink curtains to peek at the mailman. Like me, she just wanted someone to say hi to her and to be happy to see her. She'd never hurt anybody. I don't think she ever hurt anybody in her life, but somehow she carried so much pain. I never asked her why she was crying some nights, when alone in her room. I didn't feel entitled to know and she never offered to share it with me. I just figured that women had their secret sorrows and that I'd have my own one day, as well as the same unrequited love, which I could tend to in my quiet hours.
Why hadn't Koty told me that he knew about my phobia? What else did he know about me? I figured this was from a more recent surveillance or something. Did a file pass through many greasy fingers while those in power pondered embarrassing information about me? That is enough to unnerve anybody.
I'm not sure why, but I finally texted Koty and told him that I wanted to meet up. I wanted him to come clean. It doesn't mean that he would or that he could. I understood that much. But I needed some kind of closure.
The next evening, Koty and I met up at a bar around the bend. I had only been there once or twice. It was mostly deserted on a Monday evening. Called The Cave, it was dark except for candles. I needed the shadows to protect me.
We found a wooden table in the back. The mood stayed mellow, along with some country music, which I normally hated. A few others mingled nearby, deep in their own conversation. We lingered in silence for a moment. He seemed patient and I appreciated that.
Maybe it is the way he looked at me. He stared as if capturing every detail and maybe I wanted to be seen by someone who doesn't want to hurt me. But does he? Would he care if someone hurt me? Is he on my side? I admit that I'm flattered by his attention. It is strangely exciting. But I'm just a rabbit in the lair of a predator. How do I navigate his clutches?
"You want my secrets," I whispered, lowering my eyes. "I hoped it was the rest of me that you were interested in too."
"I'm just here to listen."
Yeah, the truth kind of hurt, but I needed to hear it. To face reality. He didn't want me as a woman. He wanted what I knew.
"No. You just want to contain me and any damage you think that I might cause."
He sighed and said, "That isn't true."
"Then tell me. What is?"
"I know about your phobia. Yes, I read your file."
Oh, shit! I have a file. That should horrify me. I kind of needed to gloss over that to keep from running away.
"Is that all?"
He nodded, but I didn't believe him. My gut supported that decision.
"Let's have a drink," he said, as if we were a couple on a date, but I peeked around me, wondering if other agents hid nearby.
"I don't trust you."
"I know," he said, so sadly that it almost broke my heart, as if I was the bad guy for not understanding.
"So what do I do now?"
"Do you want to continue to go down this rabbit hole?"
"I don't know."
I thought for a minute and then shrugged. This was complicated.
"Maybe you should forget about this whole UFO stuff. Go on with your life and be happy."
"But then that means no more seeing you."
"Yes, that is correct."
For a long moment, I stared into his seemingly strained eyes. Was there pain in them? Why? He wasn't being truthful. Somewhere in that programmed man must be an ounce of feeling, even if he'd never reveal it to me.
"Then why email me back and let me get this far?"
"I can't answer that."
"Or don't want to."
"Neve," he slowly explained. "I just wanted to lend an ear. You seemed to be struggling. And I really think I can help you with some of it, what I'm allowed to help you with, but that is all I can do. I don't have any real answers for you. I'm just here as a friend."
"But not as an agent?"
He nodded and I believed him.
"How can you help me?"
"I will help you with your phobia, but only to a point. The rest is up to you."
Biting my lip, I considered it. It was worth pondering about it. If I couldn't have anything more than that, it was at least something to gain out of this fiasco.
"How?"
I'll come by your house later in the week and we'll do a practice together of facing your fears. I'll guide you."
"Okay," I finally said, while sipping the wine that the waiter brought me, yet feeling a little sad that I wasn't getting more out of this meeting, such as a real friend to confide in or even to hold. "Let me think about it and I will get back to you."
After that, we talked a little about UFO groups and even about things that we liked to do such as reading or watching a good movie. I tried to convince myself that he was just like me. I wanted that to be true, even if it wasn't true. I just needed him more than he knew. But I could read people too, up to a point, and he silently told me that it wasn't going to happen.
As I studied him, I found a blank wall and he wasn't ever going to let me in. All the emotions that I had thrown at him were drying up. And I was still alone.