And now in his new aloneness, he is trying to draw me near. To console, comfort, coddle, and cajole him.
When things collapse he tends to look at what his assets are. I am one of those assets.
So last night we had this conversation about his issues with me (if I only would clean the apartment more, go to the doctor about my snoring, and play chess… THEN he could be happy with me! ) I finally said "Listen, it doesn't matter. I have to face up to the fact that you were what I'd always been looking for, and that just turned out to not be what made me happy.” I'm pretty sure he wasn't listening, but it felt pretty good to say it to him. I mean, that is the nut of it, well before the long days journey into crack started.
Olga didn’t want a “normal life” with him. That’s not necessarily a bad thing he needs to blame himself for. Overlooking the drug use and criminal activity, let’s just assume she would always long for the romance and excitement they once knew. He’s one of her (drug) memories that she will forever cherish. That desirable lifestyle that she just can’t maintain. There’s a flattery there somewhere if you look. There! On the rug! No wait that’s just some ceiling that crumbled off. Damn! I thought I had some flattery left.
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