Cum clarem, obscuro

(For the Latin-impaired, the title means, "In clarifying, I obscure.")

It's getting strange having this almost-but-not-quite-romantic platonic relationship with Debbie at the same time that I'm in a regular-but-long-distance relationship with Marie. And it has been stranger because Debbie has been in-state while taking care of her mother for the last half year or more.

There was a time some months ago that she had to get away from her mom for a day; so she left her with a daytime caregiver and we met at a botanical garden that was about halfway between the two of us. (Call it a 90-minute drive for each of us, or maybe a little longer.) I made a point to email Marie about that ahead of time, and afterwards told her all about the plants in the garden. (Marie, like Debbie, loves gardening. I'm less excited by it, but I try not to express that opinion too loudly.)

Then last month Debbie's mother finally died. Debbie came to visit her friends here in Beautiful City, and spent the night at my apartment. I told that story briefly here. What I neglected to add was Debbie's remark as we were getting ready for bed. 

We slept on two separate mattresses; but because they are so cumbersome and clumsy to move, we left them in the same room next to each other. And I spread one large blanket over both of us. (My accommodations are a little spartan.) We changed into night clothes in different rooms, and we never touched each other. Also, as I said before, Debbie was sick several times in the night. But as we were working out all these details, Debbie wondered aloud if we should "pull back" a little. She went on to say that she really valued my counsel, and over the last year had even come to rely on it. But she added that of course that came with a significant emotional component too, and she figured Marie would be pretty unhappy about that part if she knew. I reminded her that I always tell Marie when we are going to visit each other, and I always tell her whatever we do. Still, her remark was another step down the "I love you" road.

As an aside, I realize that if I wanted to cast my own actions in the most ungenerous light, I would point out that telling Marie everything we do is always the safest and most innocuous thing I could possibly tell her about my visits with Debbie, because we never do anything at all risky … well, I suppose unless you count sleeping in the same room on adjacent mattresses under the same big comforter. 

And … gosh, come to think of it, when I reported on that visit after it was over, I neglected to mention that part because I thought that Debbie's gastrointestinal bug and her being sick several times in one night were more important. Certainly if there had been any risk of surreptitious sex, her sickness would have prevented it neatly. And that's why I thought it was important to talk about the illness; the illness, in turn, is why I thought it was excusable to neglect the sleeping arrangements. After all, nothing came of them -- nor would have, to be clear, even had she not gotten sick.

But my point was really going to be that if there is ever anything in my visits with Debbie that might concern or disturb Marie, it's never the deeds. It's always the intangibles: what we say to each other, and how it feels. So if you wanted to convict me of lying by telling the truth (or obscuring the matter by clarifying it, hence the title of this post), you could make a case. You wouldn't do that, would you?

Sorry, I got distracted. Where was I? Oh right. Visits with Debbie.

In time, Debbie and her sister made arrangements for their mother's funeral (planning it for a week ago today). When Debbie first mentioned this, she said nothing about my coming, which was OK with me. I had met her mother a few times, but it's not like I was close to the family. In a later conversation, she apologized for failing to invite me, and said of course I was welcome. I replied that there was no need for her to apologize, and that I just assumed she had decided I fell outside the family circle. She said no, she hadn't decided anything; she was just distracted and scatter-brained about the whole experience. But I repeated that I wasn't really part of the family circle, so I didn't need to come.

The day before the funeral -- in mid-afternoon -- she texted me, asking me to come. She mentioned that some other close friends of hers from Beautiful City were also coming, and they had known her mom even less than I did. Please come. So of course I said yes.

Just how well did I know Debbie's mother? I met her the first time not long after Debbie and I started dating; she told me she thought it was God's providence that Debbie and I had gotten together when we did. This opinion clearly embarrassed Debbie a lot, but I was able to agree with her calmly. I was invited to her house once, just for a visit; then I was invited a second time, for Christmas, to open presents. She made sure I had a stocking. (I mention that Christmas ever-so-briefly here.) I don't remember if I visited again after that, but if I was visiting Debbie while she had a video call with her mom, I would move into view long enough to wave and say "Hi!" She always remembered me and she was always gracious to me, regardless how my relationship with her daughter evolved. So it's not like we were strangers. I was prepared to be excluded because I often assume I'm going to be excluded anyway. It just seems natural to me. But we weren't strangers, and she was always gracious and kind to me. I said so to the other people I met at the funeral, for what it is worth. Maybe I wasn't out of place after all. 

This was sudden enough that I never did get around to telling Marie about it. On the other hand I did have time to tell my mother: it was going to take me several hours to drive to the funeral, and it would be a lot quicker afterwards to drive to my mom's house and spend the night there than to drive all the way back home. Also, a funeral isn't really a visit … is it?

Maybe I better say something. You think?

Then this Monday Debbie came to Beautiful City for another funeral -- this time, an old friend of hers whom I never knew. And she wanted to spend a couple days visiting other friends. She stayed in a hotel this time. And we went hiking outside of town. Twice. Tuesday afternoon and all day Wednesday. 

Wednesday's hike was grueling. Clearly I am nowhere near ready for the West Highland Way. But what matters for the purposes of this blog post is a remark Debbie made while we were hiking. She asked about my job hunting, and I admitted I haven't gotten very far. She asked about this or that possible direction to look, and they were things I really hadn't thought about before. Then she said, "The reason I suggested those particular jobs is that you could do them anywhere. And since they are portable, that means you'd be available for a lot more hiking and backpacking. So I have an ulterior motive." 

Oh. Wow. I guess you do. Wait, is this what you meant a month ago when you said, "Maybe we should pull back"?

As I said at the beginning, it is getting strange.