i wonder what it means

when we willingly deny ourselves a basic need because of someone else?
compounded and pulled tightly against two very different reasons.

but instead of investigation or a desire to look further, i pick up the phone and dial. first jay. then think better. hang up before it rings once. no. paul. buzz and no answer. ring. ring. ring. until andy finally picks up to say that paul is out. teaching a night class. sculpture. i ask how they’re doing. and get what i’m expecting. andy’s still not recovered from the shock. and as we talk, i try to weed out the pain from the tone of his voice. it’s an impossible task. i say the things we’re supposed to say when people are hurting and need something, anything, to keep themselves from going crazy. and i mean every word. because i need this as much as he does. as much as anybody would. when he asks how i am, i don’t mention the conversation. the forthcoming phone call. i say, I’ve been feeling pretty tired.

yes, he sighs, yes, haven’t we all.

and afterward, i think about paul as a creator. an artist. of the beautiful ways in which he can use almost any material to take shape of imagination. of how frustrating it must seem to be able to produce everything but this.