Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. Balance is most important, and I have forgotten that. In the past days, I felt a bit more energy, and so I threw myself into my work, primarily with Allen and Megan—drawing Allen closer to her, keeping her in his thoughts and encouraging him to reach out to him. I’m grateful that she had the wisdom that I have not had in the past few weeks.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” she asked when he appeared on her doorstep with flowers this evening.
He blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
Sighing, she pulled him into the apartment. She will be moving in a few weeks, and so there are beginning to be cardboard boxes and empty spaces in the rooms. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said, taking the flowers and dodging around a box of books she was packing when he arrived. “I appreciate all your attention lately. But don’t you have a showing to be working on?”
Allen grimaced. “I’ve been so blocked lately, you know that.”
“So that means you stop trying? Hand me that vase.”
Allen reached up above the kitchen door to the shelf she’d indicated. “It just all seems like too much work right now. I’ll get back to it, I know I will. And meanwhile—” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. “What’s wrong with giving you a bit of extra attention?”
She smiled and allowed him to kiss her, but then she plucked the vase from his hand and turned away to fill it with water. “Allen…” She sighed and turned to lean against the counter, folding her arms across her chest. “I’d just feel better if I knew that you weren’t using me as an excuse not to work on your art.”
He stared at her, and then both he and I examined his motivations to see if that was what he has been doing. Of course I’ve pushed him toward Megan, when before he had been neglecting her—maybe I pushed him too far?
Megan came back across the kitchen and took the flowers, setting them aside next to the vase. Then she took his hands. Her eyes were warm, so at least she wasn’t angry. “Look, I know that I’m important to you, and I’m glad that you’re going to such lengths to prove it to me. But there has to be a balance. There has to be something between always being here, and completely tuning me out.”
Allen thought back over the past few weeks, and he realized—and I did too—that this is precisely how things have gone. Their relationship is a pendulum, either on or off, and that is not fair to either of them.
I should have seen it sooner.
“You’re right,” he said with the same chagrin I was feeling. “I’m sorry, Meg.”
She squeezed his hands. “I know that art is subjective, but we can figure something out. Maybe you assign yourself three nights a week that you work, and two that we get together. And you only get one call-out a month—on either of those. So it’s there if you need it, but you have to spend it wisely.”
He grinned at her. “Very methodical.”
“Well, that’s me.” She stepped closer, so that their bodies were pressed together and her chin rested on his chest as she looked up at him. “I want this to work out,” she whispered. “I want us to be a long-term thing.”
“Me too,” he murmured and kissed her. Then he let her go and went to pour them both a glass of wine. “So, let’s talk scheduling.”
I listened as they did, but I did not have much to contribute. Once again I’ve been fortunate in my charges, who thankfully did not suffer for my thoughtlessness.
Hatsumi tells me that I need to use less negative language when I write about myself, that it influences my own thought processes. I can see what she means, but it’s no less than the truth. Still, I am grateful for Megan’s clarity, and it makes me want to do better. I will keep trying—I do not like to give up.