Sized Dork-and-a-Half (12/24/08 Wednesday)

Mom and Dad didn't call yesterday. Shawn left a message, and I talked to Kevyn. Colin sent an ecard. I went right to bed after tucking in the girls. Emma made me a German chocolate birthday cake. Keely gave me an echeverria, Claire gave me an Ugly Doll (Wage) keychain and lighthouse picture, and Emma gave me a pair of hand-massage balls. The cake had eight candles. They sang me Happy Birthday, and Emma said, "Make a wish!" "Peace" was the word that sprang to mind, but I pushed it aside and asked for my move to Tuckahoe to be granted. I blew out all the candles.

I've been writing my farewell email in my head for quite a while. I want to have it down on paper long before I need it. I have no intention of burning bridges with it, though I would hope to never have to set foot in there again. There are many people there I have worked with a long time and never did me any harm, many people I'm fond of, but too many of whom I'm not. I can't spin my way out of the reason I most need to leave, and it's become more obvious every day: I have to get away from Julie--Chris, too, but I've never needed to kid myself about that. It's become clear this week that I'm just another person there to her, and I can't accept that. I accept that she's not attracted to me, but not that she'd as soon not talk to me, and that attitude is obvious. I said not long ago that I'd always read her wrong, but I'd actually rarely read her wrong; otherwise, why all the agony over her apparent indifference? I simply didn't want to believe. This whole thing has been a great self-delusion. Maybe that's the real embarrassment I'm trying to get away from. This letter will not be delusory, to myself or others, and cannot be hurtful, either, not because no one deserves to be hurt, but because denial can simply spin it into sour grapes. I want to be frank without accusation. I think what I really need to do is write an email to the indifferent and gossips, another to Julie, and another to Chris. But if I have to stay....

As I was gearing up in the break room for the ride home last night, Chris, on his way out, stopped and said to me, "Dion, I know you hate me right now, but I hope you have a good time tonight for you birthday." I looked at him and said thanks without smiling. Before I fell asleep last night I decided I have to talk to Chris. He may not want to, fearing my wrath, but I want to clear the air, I want to like him again, I want answers, and I want him to think--out loud--about what he did. I trust him to see the wisdom of the encounter along with the inevitable discomfort. If I am to be stuck at Twin Hickory I can't hide or be resentful, and though I will never be to Julie what even my lowest hopes can no longer expect--someone she can easily kid with and talk to--perhaps Chris and I can recover what we once had. I do not want to fade into the woodwork. I do not want to be just another one of those creepy social misfits that just does his work and goes home, never touching anyone in any way but with their repulsion as a result. I wouldn't expect to be a great fit at Tuckahoe, but at least there's no one there whose presence engenders shame or resentment. That and the ease of the commute could be huge ameliorators.