awaiting his call
He texts me late at night.
Past the midnight hour.
Normally, I sleep.
But not tonight.
I am up recounting our encounters.
I tell him if he wants to talk, I'm awake.
He will call in a few
Madame.
* * *
Yesterday (Jan 24), we went to Whittier Narrows for the afternoon. He'd suggested going to a park west of his place, but after checking out the address in satellite pics, I thought a larger park would offer more to see and do.
I was glad I did.
He bused to a local station and I picked him up and we wandered the park, avoiding the prolific geese and duck poo the best we could.
He'd shaved his beard for an interview the day before. I liked that I could see his pouty lips. All the times I'd seen him before, his mustache covered his top lip. Walrus style.
We lounged on a concrete dinosaur slide. We had enough room to sit, but not enough for elbow room and couldn't help but touch and feel the warmth of the person next to us. He slid his finger along my scar. I resisted the urge to curl around him.
I hadn't look him full in the face at all that afternoon, eyes on the road, eyes on the path to avoid gopher holes and poo and puddles, eyes on the dogs and ducks, so on the drive to the donut place, after the sun had set and wasn't wearing his glasses, he looked at me as I drove and his face is so lovely in three-quarters, I caught my breath, nearly every time I turned to look at him as we talked.
* * *
My phone rings.
Unusually, we mostly talked about ourselves.
He was out on a jog.
It was 2 am.
He asked why I asked for that second hug.
He told me he'd take me out to a restaurant.
I requested that he stop wondering or assuming he's done something inadequate.
I promised to take my own advice of not assuming people won't like what I want, and will let him and others tell me if I've made them uncomfortable or crossed a line or am too imposing.
I told him I'd intentionally only brought two folding chairs to the beach bonfire so I could sit between his legs.
* * *
At the park, we'd each received an invite to a comic book release party that the sender mistakenly believed was Friday night instead of the actual event date on Saturday. Neither of us really wanted to go, but we didn't have any better ideas and didn't want to part company.
First we had to sort out whether or not he'd be called in for the night shift and have to go back to the bus station or not, and since we wouldn't know til the night manager was in, and the party wouldn't start for another few hours anyway, we stopped at a donut place near the park. He enjoyed the way I pull apart croissants. He didn't need to go to work, so off we went to the bar hosting the event.
While I drove, he complimented my smile.
The bartender informed us the event was the following night. Neither one of us questioned our friend's certainty the party was that night, and none of us bothered to read the word 'tomorrow' on the event invite. On a very long otherwise empty bench, I sat beside him, thigh to thigh, and enjoyed a glass of cranberry while we tried to figure out what to do with the rest of the evening. Our friend suggested we meet at a restaurant nearby, so we went.
I hadn't prepared for the cool evening and resisted the perpetual urge to sneak inside his sweater. In the restaurant, I stopped myself from caressing his back. I busied myself by tending to the grill in the middle of the table.
Then our friend wanted to walk a while to settle her stomach and find a spot to get dessert. At the coffee shop, he rubbed my shoulder and neck. I tried my best to ignore him mock announcing, "I'm touching a girl."
I drove him home and he talked about the funk he was in last Summer. He turned his back on his friends who he thought weren't being supportive and were lampooning him too much. A catalyst of the depression (?) was a kerfuffle over a rescinded ride to a LAN party and perceived preferential treatment given to other friends. They all had equipment to carry, but he says only he was treated unfairly. So, he shunned them.
After talking a while in my car across the street from his place, I walked him to his door to say goodbye. Even though I stood on a step so as to not be so little, it was not a satisfying hug.
I sat in my car getting directions from my phone, and wanted a do-over.
I texted, "Wait, come back out. I want to give you another hug. A real one"
And it was good.
We walked toward one another, no awkward pause before embracing.
That magical internal click of yes. I love being in his arms like that. Not like any of our previous hugs. Not any of the shoulder lean, one arm up the other down, heads avoiding, basic pats on the back casual hey dude. I rested my head on his chest and got to feel his heart beat. I could tell he closed his eyes and simply held me, head resting on mine. I slid my hands gently along the small of his back.
I want more.
Past the midnight hour.
Normally, I sleep.
But not tonight.
I am up recounting our encounters.
I tell him if he wants to talk, I'm awake.
He will call in a few
Madame.
* * *
Yesterday (Jan 24), we went to Whittier Narrows for the afternoon. He'd suggested going to a park west of his place, but after checking out the address in satellite pics, I thought a larger park would offer more to see and do.
I was glad I did.
He bused to a local station and I picked him up and we wandered the park, avoiding the prolific geese and duck poo the best we could.
He'd shaved his beard for an interview the day before. I liked that I could see his pouty lips. All the times I'd seen him before, his mustache covered his top lip. Walrus style.
We lounged on a concrete dinosaur slide. We had enough room to sit, but not enough for elbow room and couldn't help but touch and feel the warmth of the person next to us. He slid his finger along my scar. I resisted the urge to curl around him.
I hadn't look him full in the face at all that afternoon, eyes on the road, eyes on the path to avoid gopher holes and poo and puddles, eyes on the dogs and ducks, so on the drive to the donut place, after the sun had set and wasn't wearing his glasses, he looked at me as I drove and his face is so lovely in three-quarters, I caught my breath, nearly every time I turned to look at him as we talked.
* * *
My phone rings.
Unusually, we mostly talked about ourselves.
He was out on a jog.
It was 2 am.
He asked why I asked for that second hug.
He told me he'd take me out to a restaurant.
I requested that he stop wondering or assuming he's done something inadequate.
I promised to take my own advice of not assuming people won't like what I want, and will let him and others tell me if I've made them uncomfortable or crossed a line or am too imposing.
I told him I'd intentionally only brought two folding chairs to the beach bonfire so I could sit between his legs.
* * *
At the park, we'd each received an invite to a comic book release party that the sender mistakenly believed was Friday night instead of the actual event date on Saturday. Neither of us really wanted to go, but we didn't have any better ideas and didn't want to part company.
First we had to sort out whether or not he'd be called in for the night shift and have to go back to the bus station or not, and since we wouldn't know til the night manager was in, and the party wouldn't start for another few hours anyway, we stopped at a donut place near the park. He enjoyed the way I pull apart croissants. He didn't need to go to work, so off we went to the bar hosting the event.
While I drove, he complimented my smile.
The bartender informed us the event was the following night. Neither one of us questioned our friend's certainty the party was that night, and none of us bothered to read the word 'tomorrow' on the event invite. On a very long otherwise empty bench, I sat beside him, thigh to thigh, and enjoyed a glass of cranberry while we tried to figure out what to do with the rest of the evening. Our friend suggested we meet at a restaurant nearby, so we went.
I hadn't prepared for the cool evening and resisted the perpetual urge to sneak inside his sweater. In the restaurant, I stopped myself from caressing his back. I busied myself by tending to the grill in the middle of the table.
Then our friend wanted to walk a while to settle her stomach and find a spot to get dessert. At the coffee shop, he rubbed my shoulder and neck. I tried my best to ignore him mock announcing, "I'm touching a girl."
I drove him home and he talked about the funk he was in last Summer. He turned his back on his friends who he thought weren't being supportive and were lampooning him too much. A catalyst of the depression (?) was a kerfuffle over a rescinded ride to a LAN party and perceived preferential treatment given to other friends. They all had equipment to carry, but he says only he was treated unfairly. So, he shunned them.
After talking a while in my car across the street from his place, I walked him to his door to say goodbye. Even though I stood on a step so as to not be so little, it was not a satisfying hug.
I sat in my car getting directions from my phone, and wanted a do-over.
I texted, "Wait, come back out. I want to give you another hug. A real one"
And it was good.
We walked toward one another, no awkward pause before embracing.
That magical internal click of yes. I love being in his arms like that. Not like any of our previous hugs. Not any of the shoulder lean, one arm up the other down, heads avoiding, basic pats on the back casual hey dude. I rested my head on his chest and got to feel his heart beat. I could tell he closed his eyes and simply held me, head resting on mine. I slid my hands gently along the small of his back.
I want more.