runda
“I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in singing, especially when singing is not necessarily prescribed.”
Dear Anias,
Yesterday was a walk to the beach in the wind. I wore a sheer green blouse and a lace bralette and my shoulders were freezing. I had tight pants and converse and a leather jacket and no matter how many zippers I zip I was nippy. He met me in the street and once we got to the sand, we spied Elise and Zak at the water.
I waded out and Elise greeted me with the French style of a kiss on either cheek. We are not quite friends. We are overly friendly.
We spoke of the things that make me deftly uncomfortable and by the conversation's end, our lips were blue and smiling.
She has navigated the same tempest as I am. It is reassuring to meet someone with similar problems. It is not an issue worth considering. It is not my choice to undo. He slept on the couch last night under a red blanket, I offered. We kissed good night and he crept into the bed this morning to cuddle. I understand the boundary and I think it is stupid.
Isn't it inane to suffer from lust like this?
What is love if you cannot express it through passion?
My body was burning next to his. My legs wound underneath him in the old fashion we are used to and he sighed heavily on my chest. That silly paradox I must accept: wanting and not having. And where do I go from here, Anias? Part of me wants to leave and the other half is so full of hope it hurts! I cannot eat, though I sat and sipped the soup he made for me at midnight. It was full of spice and noodles and chickpeas. It was delicious.
He chooses the middle path and I am on either edge of the horizon. Up and down like a rubber ball in a casket. He catches me and holds me in the center and I can't decide how long I'll hang there in his large hand.
I'm comfortable for the time being. Contentment served on a gold spoon with a bit of honey I stir into my tea.
We played cards at a wooden table laden with chocolate milk and digestive biscuits I bought at the market. My tempo is to get rid of everything and quickly. His is to wait and hold onto more until he can asses what he has. I won more rounds, but who cares about winning?
On the walk home, it was silent. The streets glowed from the rain. The lights bled on the asphalt. He said he loved it when the streets are empty. He hates it when it is full, busy and loud. I would say it was romantic, but it wasn't. He offered me his jacket and I wouldn't take it. I wanted to feel the cold steep into my bones to keep me awake. Alive and beating with each footstep, my heart cannot be frozen no matter how cold it gets.
I slept in that wide white bed alone. Again. I didn't cry this time. I had deep dreams and woke up to a rainstorm. I thought I was home in Vancouver. I felt Amanda with me. I felt the fir trees. I heard the birds. It was damp and when he got into bed with me, I knew it was to sleep longer and not to connect with me. There is a pragmatism in him that I understand.
I went for a long walk in the rain and wore my yellow sandals intentionally to feel my toes in the wet. I bought a latte and listened to Clara's voicememo. She was in the car and I felt like I was there with her.
When I arrived home, we had breakfast. I made poached eggs I stacked over a vegetable hash with spices. We dipped the Moroccan bread in the broken eggs and ate with our fingers.
Whatever the universe wills, things occur for a reason you may not understand.
He is not going to change his mind, Anias.
Photo source.
