I’m wringing my hands again, as if that will help the dull ache that has returned. The ache in my heart which, coincidentally, is now beating only because it has too. I am mad at you. Again. Why do I put myself through this!
My gaze falls on my left hand which bears no mark of commitment whatsoever. Quite the contrary, the manicured fingernails perfectly compliment the delicate fingers, yet still something is missing.
I pick up the phone and dial the number that I had saved as a sequence of patterns. He picks up the phone and I can tell there is a lump caught in his throat as the gruff hey comes out. I’m sorry, I spill out – rubbing my nose with the back of my hand, this is a technique that I have found will keep the tears at bay a little while longer. No, babe, it’s my fault. As he proceeds, the dam breaks and there is a massive overflow of incoherent mutterings on my end, that seem to insist that I take the blame.
The route we have taken to define this thing has left many wondering how we have kept going.
It’s the look in his eyes when I catch him looking at me, that gentle yet fierce look that leaves me both breathless and shy. The way we linger in the hug, like we each know, we want it to be one second longer. That first day, when he rested his hand on my waist and all I saw was red lines and the end credits scene of the story that is my single-hood.
You see, we are a bit like Mary and Henry Talbot, they all labeled me as cold and unfeeling and yet one touch from you sets ablaze several significant portions of my being. The imprint of your hand, is still seared onto my back from that first day. You pulled me toward you and smiled, everything inside me melted like a candle’s wax giving way to it’s wick.
You have no idea who Adama is or why Civil War has set itself up to be an epic battle. You smile bemused when I reenact mine are bigger than yours and look on in disbelief as I fidget about setting up the PS4 whilst cursing technology under my breath. The geek who fidgets with hardware – what a conundrum!
I watch as it ticks you off that I cannot tell the difference between Kobe, Wade and Lebron while I make a fuss over the FedExpress and the Djoker.
Once while we were hosting, I commented out loud how I thought Van Gaal & Mourinho should be left alone to play in the team the next season. I smiled to myself proud of the fact that I had mentioned a football players, only to see the look of utter disbelief on your face as your friends that we were hosting suddenly found the pillowcase embroidery an interesting case study. I took the disbelief to mean something positive.
Your mother seems to keep dropping subtly veiled hints and it has me worried, you brush it off but I cannot shake it. I see the same glint of uncertainty in your eyes when my brothers demand your presence at the Rubgy Pitch. Beer + Pork + The Game — their idea of bonding.
You say nakedness is a state that you would prefer to be in, the shock that befell me upon the realisation that you were being serious was comical. Truth is it was all for show really, because I have not revealed to you my complete aversion of water. Well, on the weekends mostly — why waste water when countries are prepared to go to war over it. If it was important enough to be raised in a presidential debate, it is important enough to consider.
We work because we have chosen that this thing, the one we call love will conquer all. Every difference that we are told will be our downfall, we have chosen to look at — then look beyond. You see, we picked a side: Ours & we have learned how to play for our team.
We have both had perfect before, it never left a sweet taste in our mouths. Only the bitter ache that comes with salted pillows in the midnight hour. No. We have had perfect before, we were determined not to go back.
Our individual little imperfections have cemented the missing pieces in each other making us — together, the perfect one.
Disclaimer: This is was all fiction, but it was so much fun to write.
PS: Ahem… The inspiration of this post came from JJ’s blog – blame him!
In Other News, you UBW dose of Calvin & Hobbes…
P.P.S.: If you haven’t caught on by now, the water aversion is real…
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