It's been months since our paths last crossed. She hasn't so much as acknowledged me, nor I her. Time has passed, life has been lived. I've been busy. Somewhere, somehow, she's been existing just fine on her own. And so I wasn't expecting this contact, so sudden.
I'm not sure what she wants from me.
No, that's a lie. I know exactly what she wants from me. Time. My undivided attention, all my guts and emotion. But I can't give it to her. I don't withhold it to be mean, because I do care. It's just that I have so much going on. Life won't slow down for me, let alone for her. And what, does she want me to drop my family? Forget about my commitments? My kids and their schooling, our home, social and church lives, and I'm trying to write a book, for goodness' sake. Now is not the right time.
You're going to think me so heartless when I tell you her story. She's recently divorced after a long, broken marriage. Ohh, and she feels so much guilt. So little worth. She has nothing, but can't see everything is within her grasp. She needs guidance, support, I admit, and she's chosen me, Lord knows why, to help her through.
She's going to have to be patient. It's all I ask. Because I already have a novel-in-progress, and she'll just have to wait until that story's finished.
Then I'll write hers.
Why is it new fiction ideas dig in and plant roots when you're in no need of raw material?