I pedalled in today--I do that on Tuesday and Wednesdays now--and instead of parking at the rack out front, I left the bike at the back door where we all come in. I don't care who sees Julie's picture on the fender, including Julie. I bought a tin of Newman's Own ginger altoids and put them on her desk this morning. I have to do these things. I want everyone to know and Julie not to forget. I'll never say anything to her about how I feel. That ball's in her court to volley back.
(She's just left the breakroom. She's just gotten here, has passed my bike and been to her desk. Not a word. I can make myself believe it's because I'm writing that she didn't "disturb" me, but it's an uneasy rationalization. Here come the doubts.)
I guess giving those little gifts was okay when she didn't know how I felt about her. What do they mean now? (Something else to add to the category of Don't Think About.)
*****
The altoids remained where I'd left them on her desk, and Julie never said anything about them, even during the hour on the desk together. I think I screwed up. Now a Christmas token seems out of the question. Oh, well, now I feel I'm back to square one, only with Julie knowing how I feel. This is much worse. Now everything I do or say around or to her is overfraught with ulterior menaning. I'm beginning to feel sick. What have I done? I'm watching Friday swirl down the drain. Oh, Dion, did nothing get through to you? How can I recover?
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