A cold, wet and windy Sunday

Earlier in the week I'd regretted not enclosing a birthday present fodsc_5401r Xiao Lin in the pricey package of papers I'd sent by courier the week before. I still do. But I had planned to call this  weekend. Most certainly, I would call.

Though as the the weekend drew closer, I felt a hastened distance and sensed an unsettling obfuscation. I wouldn't call it intuition (because there have been too many revelations over the past couple of months and numerous more in recent days) that did not have me call him after all.

The usual, careful refrain from even mentioning Jason's name in passing had become so commonplace that even with baited breath - devoid of teasing - could I eventually elicit some twist of the truth. An account of the birthday party left Jason dangling as an afterthought. Until the startling revelation he'd spent the night and day sleeping (?) alone (?) at Jason's place.  

Despite his first real step to come clean and acknowledge his actions, he chose instead to throw up a flurry of excuseNokiaAugust017s as to why he had to stay at Jason's. Deep down he must have been relieved not to have had to lie again, and so it was spun that he thought that this was what I had wanted. Of course, it is! Anything, but the lies. However, what in fact happened was still not even worth mentioning. One step at a time.

I am hardly upset or at all surprised. I grateful there was no malice in telling me what I'd rather know than not. Everyone wins. Xiao Lin can be more relaxed in Beijing. Jason, too. The summer was - and still is for another month - theirs.  The puzzler: how is it I knew better than to call and disturb him, I mean, them?  That's where I win.

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