Everyone promises things to the one they love. Most of the time, however, they are things no one should promise anyone…like loving them “forever”. I want to make you the following promises. These are things I can control…promises I know for SURE that I can keep: Continue reading
She’s been gone for 3 days and I’m quickly going nuts. I miss her. Every little thing about her. How she laughs, blinks, snores, breathes ….everything. To provide the slightest bit of comfort, I pull open a drawer in her dresser where she keeps her old t-shirts. Bringing it to my nose, I take a deep breath, “Babe, I miss you.”
I almost always wake up before her. Sometimes I get right up and start my day. But this morning, I wake up spooning her. My leg is between hers, her head is on my numb left arm and the right one is draped over her waist. Somehow her hand has ended up right under mine. I slide mine over it, lacing our fingers together gently. It’s just as perfect a fit as it was the first time we held hands.
I’m not sure how this is going to go. Tonight is the first night my friends and her friends will realize that we are… well.. a “we”. For a while now we’ve been a secret to everyone except family. Waiting on a lounger at the swankiest downtown club, I’m more than a little nervous. Surrounded by friends, I try to act normal. I keep rubbing my palms on my jeans, though, and even though no one says anything, I know they’re suspicious. A few of them have picked on me about being nervous that “she” might show up. “She”, of course, is my favorite basketball player. I laugh nervously but it’s not because she might come. It’s because I know she’s coming and they don’t know what’s going to happen when she gets here.
Ah, my love, you act so well. Use whatever you can to let the world know you don’t want me anymore. And you strut and preen like someone who doesn’t need or want anyone for anything. You are independent, self-assured, and don’t give a fuck. And you’ll stop at nothing to prove that to me and everyone else. Even parade through here with countless others. Others….yes.
The shaft of light coming through the window makes her a little mad. There’s no way she’ll get to sleep if the curtains don’t close all the way. Phone in hand but tethered to the wall or the battery won’t last the entire call, she stretches to cover the intruder. The person on the other end pauses, but she’s not listening, so she prays that her response fits, “Yeah.”