|
She wished she were drunk or stoned, but she settled on another cup of coffee instead - adding some half and half. The last time you had made love to her was in your house in the town where she went to college. She told you how great of a life you had, but you were monumentally bored and scared about the money of your future.
Weren't we all.
It was going to rain today, and she was so happy for it.
The thing about sex that had confused her was that it had been the best she had had with you - you even took her hand and asked her to keep touching you. It made an impression, yet she didn't want to scare you.
You were like the little fawns trapped in her yard - so skittish if she made a noise - if she professed love for you. You weren't all she thought about anymore, but you were the only root she ate. She tried very much to distance herself from you - so that she wouldn't be hurt when you told her you were bored - it wasn't working.
you didn't answer the text she sent you after midnight (when she let it all hang out between the book she couldn't put down). She had asked a simple question - are you coming? and if so, when? It was the same question she asked every weekend, and you often left her hanging.
She was not in the driver's seat of whatever this was. She had had two dreams of you and she saying you loved each other. The reality was much more circumspect. You texted her less and less, and your phone calls were cordial. She of course wanted you to want her. Who wouldn't.
It made her sad to even do anything. She even thought about cancelling on the volunteer work she was doing tonight, but maybe it would be good to get out of the house. She hadn't washed her shedding hair since before she made love to you. It was so fun to be uninhibited and to really kiss. She often felt like she was re-learning you.
Was it going to work? she certainly hoped so. You were a weird fish, and it could go either way. She rubbed the white powder sand that was on the small blanket next to where she wrote. She touched your base ball. The leaves fell, and she vowed not to rake them.
More than anything, she wanted you to feel what she felt - intrigue, curiosity, kinship. Instead, she was going to take a walk then a bath. She knew you were done texting her, and she hoped that you would come and see her, but she also knew that life could be very disappointing.
She was never going to write the mystery book she told you about, but she might start.
"you're such a mystery to me. It's hard to get my tentacles in you when I don't know where I sit."
"look. I'm coming aren't I?"
"is that really enough? Obviously, I give you so much clue that I adore you."
"I gave you a book didn't I?"
"are you bored again?"
"yes".
She wanted to tell him that only boring people were bored, but she was out of her cliche's. The shower had felt excellent - it was so nice to get all the grease off. She reminded herself that the tarot had given her glowing portents before to no avail - this one was ok to similarly ignore - but it definitely resonated with her current mood - so different from Sunday's bemused acceptance of love - this one was the same old fear again. She had even written a fragment of a song about it, "He doesn't love you" was its original refrain.
The bike the neighbors had left on the street sat there for the second week. it was a child's bike and no one was picking it up. The deer had not made an appearance today and the oat trail was untouched.
"He doesn't love you. You're trying too hard. He doesn't love you you barren bard."
She tried to think it didn't matter - all the times she had tried not to try too hard - by being the cool crone, yet she also believed something secret.
She believed that he was going to go away and return.
|
