Yes, I am Ignoring You. I am Aware of my Actions

Tina Marie worked as a support person.  Her work space was on the other side of my cubicle and she must have heard my whispered conversations and heavy sighing as I hung up the phone.  She asked if she could help by answering my phone and taking messages when my phone rang.  What a relief! She ran interference for me.  If Killer or Michael called, she'd take a message. I was given the message, but the calls were never returned.

Michael was still not working, so he had time to call, in person. He knew when I went to lunch.  I worked in downtown Lansing and parked in a garage that was six blocks away, so walking to my car to go get a bite to eat, was not efficient use of my time. I would walk downtown, grab a bite or once we moved into our new office remodel, I'd buy some thing at the concession stand managed by the blind commission.

I walked out one day oblivious to my surroundings. Why would I be on the look out for spying eyes? And as I breezed down the street heading toward my destination, Michael came out of no where! He just came up from behind me and started asking me why I was avoiding him.

A normal person would conclude, I certainly hope, that IF someone is ignoring you, it is intentional.  It is not that you slipped their mind for days on end. I'm sure they had not forgotten you were still taking space up in their bubble, sucking what little oxygen they had left to breath. Surely, one would think if you were on their dance card, they would call you, but if not, they may have chosen to stop dancing and take up hmm, target practice?  If you are in touch every day and some one says, I'm done, your lease is being non-renewed, and then they stop all communication, block all communication, wouldn't you think, hmm, I guess I need to move on? Not Michael.

He was not giving up.  He begged me to forgive him. Allow him to have a "do-over." But the reminders of his hostage lectures, his insecurity over several things, but  mostly my living and breathing  with a chance of glancing at or talking to another human, was wearing on me.  It had been going on a year and a half since I had left Killer and I was no closer to solving my own matters of the heart.

I strongly, but gently suggested he look for a job with the time he spent managing me.  I thought it would do him some good to get back to work and be productive instead of worrying whether my Wheaties had milk on them each day.

It was closing in on Christmas 1987. I had plans to go to Florida for the holidays to see my parents. Is there a saying that two wrongs make a right? I wonder if that works?