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We spent all day together. Hiking the property, swimming, driving down to the Tattered Cover and the Wizard's Chest, back for dinner, then sprawled on the beach or on the apartment couches, just us and the music. I know things are not past her mind. She played Horrorscope in the car and skipped Here's To The Night. That was our song, two years ago. Two years ago.... I am not that same man, yet I have inherited his horrible weakness. She brings out the best in me, and the worst, and the two bicker and fight until they can't tell each other apart. My stomach ties in knots and I stare, at her, at the moon, at the ceiling, at anything. All of my attention is on her, trying desperately to peer into the thoughts I can see roiling around her head. But while I see them there, they are utterly blank to me.
We sprawled in the apartment, our ice cream finished and set aside, one couch for each of us. The stages of sleep dep pass us by, the blank stares, the random thoughts, the unprovoked laughter. Finally as we watched a moth crawling on the door frame, one of us decided to shut the lights off to confuse it, then promptly forgot it. Beyond coherency, we each had our couch, drifting through the dark in the soft sounds of A Perfect Circle. I made motions to get up, but could only find myself rolling off my couch to fetch up against the foot of hers. And still I was immobilized, her sandals in my back but not painfully. As the cd tottered on toward the end, I sat up, and saw her hand there, lay my hand beside hers, touching, hoping for a reaction. But hand-waves are so damn ambiguous. I finally rested my hand in hers, and she squeezed it, then dragged herself back and sat up. It was time to go. I watched her a bit longer before turning my back and slipping out, with a "Goodnight, Katie."
Gods, I'm bleary at 3 in the morning. Holy cow.
I don't ask for pity. It's been a long time since I've taken this ride so fast, and it is bumpy, but diappointment and pain are prominent in the job description. I'd not be on it if I didn't know where it can end.
click
We sprawled in the apartment, our ice cream finished and set aside, one couch for each of us. The stages of sleep dep pass us by, the blank stares, the random thoughts, the unprovoked laughter. Finally as we watched a moth crawling on the door frame, one of us decided to shut the lights off to confuse it, then promptly forgot it. Beyond coherency, we each had our couch, drifting through the dark in the soft sounds of A Perfect Circle. I made motions to get up, but could only find myself rolling off my couch to fetch up against the foot of hers. And still I was immobilized, her sandals in my back but not painfully. As the cd tottered on toward the end, I sat up, and saw her hand there, lay my hand beside hers, touching, hoping for a reaction. But hand-waves are so damn ambiguous. I finally rested my hand in hers, and she squeezed it, then dragged herself back and sat up. It was time to go. I watched her a bit longer before turning my back and slipping out, with a "Goodnight, Katie."
Gods, I'm bleary at 3 in the morning. Holy cow.
I don't ask for pity. It's been a long time since I've taken this ride so fast, and it is bumpy, but diappointment and pain are prominent in the job description. I'd not be on it if I didn't know where it can end.
click
