The evening's been too much for me, an emotional roller coaster with food thrown in. My defenses are totally shot as I sit back on the sofa, eyes nearly closed, satiated. I wave my hand lazily at all the loot collected; it's strewn between us like a chastity belt.
"Pack for me pleasssssse," I purr without thinking.
He smiles, amused at the unusual vulnerability. I brace myself for the harsh comment that's sure to come my way. I'm surprised when he decides to cut me some slack; and my eyes actually widen in joy as he obeys me wordlessly. He gets hold of my new kurta with clumsy gentleness, and I see his eyebrows come together in concentration as he carefully nudges the folds together. Gold, green, red. I watch his hands at work and his earnestness makes me smile.
"What?" he asks defensively, but it's a soft defensiveness, not the cruel barbs I've gotten used to. He shakes his head with an air of long-suffering and starts collecting my earrings, bracelets, and chains together. He runs a finger absent-mindedly down the length of a blue beaded chain and a chill runs down my spine. I sit up straighter. His voice from an intimate conversation about porn pops into my head.
I turn away, kicking myself. Talk about quoting out of context! Unbidden, another memory, a rush of a whole different kind as I remember an anchoring arm around my shoulders. And another... his palms delicately cupping a clay pot I'd made, nudging it into shape, carefully etching a design onto it. So many, I've lost count. Each one a hallmark of its own kind. Safety, comfort, friendship. And the promise of more.
Done with his work, he abandons my bag on the table and calls for the bill. I pull the bag towards me protectively. Nothing lies between us now. He smiles tolerantly, his mind already on something else.
"Thank you," I say, somewhat redundantly given the taken for granted nature of the exchange. He says something in return; it doesn't matter what, it only matters that it didn't hurt.
And sitting there, barely an arms length from him, I missed him more than I'd missed him in ages.
Afternote: I unwrapped the kurta today, it's wrinkled beyond belief. And he came over, and shot three sarcastic remarks and a caustic hint my way. Life's back to normal.
"Pack for me pleasssssse," I purr without thinking.
He smiles, amused at the unusual vulnerability. I brace myself for the harsh comment that's sure to come my way. I'm surprised when he decides to cut me some slack; and my eyes actually widen in joy as he obeys me wordlessly. He gets hold of my new kurta with clumsy gentleness, and I see his eyebrows come together in concentration as he carefully nudges the folds together. Gold, green, red. I watch his hands at work and his earnestness makes me smile.
"What?" he asks defensively, but it's a soft defensiveness, not the cruel barbs I've gotten used to. He shakes his head with an air of long-suffering and starts collecting my earrings, bracelets, and chains together. He runs a finger absent-mindedly down the length of a blue beaded chain and a chill runs down my spine. I sit up straighter. His voice from an intimate conversation about porn pops into my head.
I turn away, kicking myself. Talk about quoting out of context! Unbidden, another memory, a rush of a whole different kind as I remember an anchoring arm around my shoulders. And another... his palms delicately cupping a clay pot I'd made, nudging it into shape, carefully etching a design onto it. So many, I've lost count. Each one a hallmark of its own kind. Safety, comfort, friendship. And the promise of more.
Done with his work, he abandons my bag on the table and calls for the bill. I pull the bag towards me protectively. Nothing lies between us now. He smiles tolerantly, his mind already on something else.
"Thank you," I say, somewhat redundantly given the taken for granted nature of the exchange. He says something in return; it doesn't matter what, it only matters that it didn't hurt.
And sitting there, barely an arms length from him, I missed him more than I'd missed him in ages.
Afternote: I unwrapped the kurta today, it's wrinkled beyond belief. And he came over, and shot three sarcastic remarks and a caustic hint my way. Life's back to normal.
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