To Protect My Honor

Hard Choices II

The Sunday that followed, I was eating lunch with my mom and Alice, who were having a conversation about Shakespearean history. I was oblivious to their conversation. I had these story ideas swirling in my mind. Yet they were too abstract to write. 

At this point, I realized that there were some people who I needed to reveal my true self to, and Victoria's name was at the top of the list.

Then again, I was fully aware that people see me through their own ideas.

The day was notable for being the first of no doubt many 90-degree days in 2017. The sun shone through the window, heating my face to the point of discomfort.

I was too naïve to realize that I was in effect mortgaging my relationship with Nancy to win Victoria back. While she had tolerated me unconditionally so far, I had a feeling I was approaching her limits.

I had no idea how far this would go. Which is exactly what troubled me. 

Actually, it troubled me that I had no idea where it would go. There were thousands, thousands of possible outcomes. I didn't know how many of them I would accept peacefully. 

I hoped that I could accept any of them peacefully, but I couldn't predict my own mind.

My mind has been the subject of much envy among people. But if anyone knew how much pain it has caused me, no one would want it. No one. And da Vinci was the first to make such a claim, not me. But it's fitting.

This is compounded, of course, by the fact that people are indifferent to how much I suffer. They say things like, "Snap out of it!"

If I could, I would.

I went to my room to listen to music. I opened my hymns playlist, as even though I had attended church, I wanted the calming effect of church music.

One thing led to another, and an hour later, I was listening to Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries." Of course, that's a piece of music that could be the very antithesis of "calming." But that didn't matter. I was making plans, and that was the perfect music for making plans.

Strangely enough, I found myself listening to a performance of "Ride of the Valkyries" at a concert of the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra just six days later. Michaela had invited me to their Saturday night performance as her older brother, a classical music fan who was visiting from New York, had become unexpectedly sick. 

"He says it's just a common cold," she told me. "But he has a very low threshold for discomfort."

As we left the chambers, we again discussed the Victoria crisis.

"I'm afraid of what could happen. I'm very emotionally driven, and from what I know about Victoria, she is too."

"Well, Milton, the way I see it is that you have to call your mind's shots," she said. "Otherwise your mind will end up calling your shots. In other words, you need to be an active force over your emotions and not let them drive you."

"Says the person who has been indulging my every whim."

"That's because I don't think you've been acting irrational about this. I was just responding to your concern."

I got home at close to midnight, and I thought some more about what could be done to end the non-standoff. And then I realized something that I wish I did not realize.

I still had her mom's email address.

Would I write her again? I didn't know. It was risky, but what other way was there? As she continued her studies at the University of Virginia, she was not even with her mom. So what could I get out of it?