Johnny, Part 4
Johnny and I played phone tag for weeks, then finally connected around July 4th. It was not even a month into my new job. I was lonely in my new place - new apartment, new town, new job. My boss was a very demanding woman who didn't have much use for tact. I left the office that day in tears, with no plans for the long holiday weekend.My conversation with Johnny didn't go well that night. He was struggling between the idea of moving to Colorado for himself and the pull of staying to help his elderly ex-pseudo-step-father. Johnny was feeling the urge to be free and single and find out what he was really all about. He didn't want to hurt me; the classic line. I was struggling with being alone, with feeling connected to someone.
I don't recall exactly how the conversation ended; I felt we'd still be in touch, still be able to have our conversations, still be friends. I was wrong.
Johnny never returned any of my phone calls after that. At first, I just thought he was busy - after all, our schedules were completely opposite. I tried to vary the messages I left, I tried to be funny, let him know I wasn't upset, only concerned. I started asking him to just let me know he was okay. Even if he didn't want to talk, to call while I was at work, to let me know he was alright. I gave up after two weeks.
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This story took place in 2000. I haven't heard from Johnny since our last phone call. Occasionally, Stef will hear an update from her now-hubby's group of friends and pass that along. The last word placed him doing well in Colorado. I think about him often and send out little prayers of happiness and well-being for him. I often use him as my personal barometer - would he be proud of me now? It's my own little version of WWJD. Though I still miss him, and a part of me has not yet gotten past the hurt, every now and then I pull out the picture of us and smile.
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