She’s darker than you’d like her to be. Her mind is always shifting, darting into corners and drifting down rabbit holes. You have learned to walk her down from high ledges and wait the fever out. You have learned when to hold and when to let go. Sometimes she wants you to tell her everything is going to be okay, even if it is not okay. Other times she rages and curses you for lying. She hates liars. She flips through radio dials like a rolodex, singing the snippets of the songs she knows. She changes the channel again, when the good part is over. Don’t talk over the good parts. Pay attention to the good parts. She asks the waitress, "Are the fish and chips good? Do you like them?" And then she orders the pasta. She likes two glasses of wine, but if she has just one more she will get tired. Tired of this restaurant, tired of wearing real clothes, tired of people. Ask for the check, take her home. Strange people, wonderful and terrible people, tell her random stories in the most random places. About the first boy they kissed, about their two Labrador retrievers, about their messy divorce. It’s a curse and a blessing, for her. And for you. Be patient. Isn’t this why you fell in love with her, at the start? The way she listens and nods, the way she knows. The way other people light up when they see her? She gets nervous when other people cry. She doesn’t know how to put on eyeliner. She hates talking on the phone. Tell her everything that races through your mind, courses through your blood, when you see her naked. She wants to know. She wants to know you see. Don’t say, I don’t see your thick thighs. Say, Your thick thighs are everything to me. If she waves you off, or turns away, keep saying it. She is listening, but she can’t hear. She falls asleep with the news on, with her glasses on, with a glass of wine teetering in her hand. You say her name, softly, a litmus test. I’m awake, she whispers. But she is not awake, she is somewhere. Gone to the beautiful mysterious (that only she knows). Gone to wherever she goes, when her pretty eyes are closed.
Comments