This is a continuation from the last entry. Read "part 1" first before you read below.

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I walked over and saw the cop run up the stairs. No, no, no. I watched motionless with my jaw open. Two doors were at the top of those stairs, and hers was the one to the right. He reached the top of the stairs, whipped out a big ring of keys and went...left. Turns out her neighbor just so happened to be a cop, and was stopping home to get something.

He came out and saw me standing outside. I had to say something. I knew full well I ran the risk of not only bothering an officer of the law with some unfounded paranoia when he had actual jobs to do, but embarrassing the hell out of myself and her (who was probably just in deep sleep) to the point where she'd think I completely lost my sanity, my respect for her, AND my faith in her, by doing such a rash act. But something told me it was better safe than sorry. I told him my name and where I was driving from, how we had a fight, and that I just wanted to make sure she "didn't do anything stupid". He said he was sorry to brush me off, but the fact of the matter was he was a cop from another town. And that I'd have to call the police department from the town in order to do anything.

This was another chance for me to just leave things alone, like I SHOULD have done. I was being paranoid, I knew it. My cell phone was close to dying and dialing "0" wouldn't work anyway. But I headed back to the convenience store, where there was a phone. Next to the store a cop was parked on the side of the road. I walked up, introduced myself, and explained the situation. I reinforced the fact that this might just be paranoia on my part, and that after she and I had talked extensively on the subject of suicide and mental conditions I knew damn well that she didn't have anything like that. "So, you don't have any reason to believe she's done anything, other than the fact that she's not answering?" I sighed and said yes. He said "Well, I'm here waiting for somebody to come back with regards to another domestic dispute." He smiled sarcastically, and I laughed. "It's been that kind of night," he added. He said he'd meet me at the store next door and then he'd look into it.

The same cop showed up, as promised. Heavy set, black moustache and wearing glasses. I noticed his badge said "123". We went over the facts again. He asked for my ID, which I promptly showed him. He radioed strange numeric codes back and forth. I gave him her phone number, name, address, and birthdate. Then he asked about us, how we met, and all that. Partly for small talk, partly to get info. We drove to her place and he told me to wait at the bottom of the stairs. The police station tried calling the home phone, but there was still no answer. He knocked on the door several times. And that was that.

He sat down on the stairs and talked to me. "If she didn't make any indication that she's going to kill herself, and doesn't have a history of this at all, then we really can't do anything else." And he explained what I already knew: that he's had to take my word for everything. Because for all he knew, I was just some crazy stalker who wanted to see this woman's door broken down. "She's probably out with friends." I didn't think so, given the fact that her car was here and that she doesn't do that kind of stuff on a work night. But I said she was probably dead asleep, because I knew she was tired. In any case, he had a point and I understood. I thanked him and shook his extended hand. I pointed to her car outside when he asked.

I drove back over the 3 states, stopping for gas on the way. I checked my email at home, just to be sure. Nothing. I tried my best to not look at my Windows wallpaper, which I set to a big photo of her. I tried my best not to look into those eyes. It was so damn late. Should I try calling in sick? Forget it, I had way too much at work to do that I'd already blown off. I plugged my cellphone in and put it on the bed next to me. My arm still hurt from the flu shot earlier that day, but I managed to get into a good position. I can't remember what I dreamed about, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't her or a nightmare.

But on that drive home I thought once again, "Maybe this really isn't going to work out. I really blew it now. We're trying to match up the incompatible. I thought I learned my lesson 5 years ago and knew that there was a difference between mutual infatuation, and love. Maybe I didn't. And she said she doesn't want it to feel like I'm walking on thin ice with her, but sometimes it does."

I awoke around 7 AM to hear my phone buzz. I opened it and saw her picture logo. Oh thank goodness. She was alive. My worst fears, however unfounded, were at least gone.

But boy, she was so angry when she called and I told her about the neighbor. "Now the neighbors are going to think that I'm crazy! As if I don't have enough drama to deal with in my job helping people in the ghetto. Not only that, but do you have ANY idea how fucking detremental this could have been to my career? This is a small town! If the [local city] Police found out that somebody called in about this social worker being suicidal, by reputation could be completely ruined."

Dare I mention the second cop to her? At this point I think I put her through enough. Maybe it's the stupidest thing to hide things like that from your lover, but at this point I'm just so shaken and depressed that I don't have the guts.

And I can't say this enough: I do NOT have bipolar issues, clinical depression, or anything like that. I'm a personal optimist. I generally detest sulkers. But boy, do I feel low. It takes a lot to make me feel that way about myself, believe me. And not because I'm some heartless asshole. Because if that was the case, none of this would burden me.

But she called back around lunch time to say, "I was thinking about this, and I realized that you wouldn't have driven all the way over here in the middle of the night if you didn't care about me. And that speaks volumes." "In a good way?" I half-sarcastically asked. "Yes, in a good way. And I love you."

Her emails today said:

Thank you for caring so much about me that you drive 3 hrs to check on me.
Its not crazy....its Love.
And I love you too [trapezoid].

P.S. One more thing....
Raphael is giggling at your "feat" last night....but he is happy.
And He Loves You Too;)

I'm at work but all I want to do is go back home to my altar. And perform one of the Conjurations for her. Not of Destruction. Not of Lust. But the other conjuration of the three: the Conjuration of Compassion. Because my clouded thoughts for her are just eating away at my very soul.