Paladin Attends A Halloween Party
Friday evening I helped Hibiscus with one of his construction projects for the first time. I suited up in jeans, multiple hoddies, wrist warmers and two pairs of socks. I was still cold, but I managed to carry some boards, nail some of them down, and make myself a little less than useless. I enjoyed being on top of the bridge rafters, some thirteen or so feet off the ground. I could see all the backs of the houses of Silverstag Eco Hamlet. They were well-designed lovely homes, at least, by stick-frame standards of beauty.
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That night Hibiscus had to work on various things late into the evening. I had the evening to myself. I could read, watch Teal videos, masturbate - whatever I liked. But somehow, none of that appealed to me. I wanted to call Paladin, but couldn't. He was at a Halloween party. I felt stab of jealousy about that, but I pushed it aside.
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For the first time in many, many years, I pulled down one of my physical journals. When I was a teenager I had printed out my typed writing and then used sheet protectors and binders to turn my online journal into a physical journal as well. The physical version included photographs, artwork of mine, fortune cookie fortunes, movie ticket stubs, letters from friends and boyfriends, and many other little artifacts of the life I lived.
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I read for two hours, reading a span of time from early February 2006 and late March 2006. I was with Dragon, my second love, at the time, and I was very, very miserable. It was, perhaps, the hardest period of my entire life.
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My anger was evident in my writing. I felt helpless - an angry, caged animal who saw no way out. I found myself actually excited to continue reading more later. What change of heart was it that led me to finally leave Dragon? I couldn't really recall.
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I went to sleep before Hibiscus finished with his work. This had only happened once or twice before since we'd been a couple. Hibiscus left me a note which I read in the morning. He was worried that I'd been upset with him. I wasn't angry, resentful, or even sad at him, but I was sad. Not because he wasn't with me that night, but because it was so hard to be with myself. I found a way to be with myself a little - by reading my past.
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Paladin had texted me at one o'clock in the morning: "Well, that was longer than expected. I danced."
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I closed my eyes for a moment and let that little bit sink in. He danced. Without me. Had that ever happened before? Not that I knew of. I wanted so desperately to dance with him. I'd never guessed I'd miss that so much in particular. I'd never known how much that meant to me.
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His text continued, "I saw Macaw,"
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Macaw. So he hasn't left for India yet. I wish I could have seen Macaw. I want to talk to him about the things he wrote to me about.
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"Ficus, Thistledown, Panda, Panda's fiancé,"
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Panda. I have not seen him in like a year now. As much as I dislike that I slept with him back in the summer of 2014, I wouldn't mind seeing him, or his fiancé.
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"and other folks who we know. I won second prize in the men's costume. (After the party, I turned the prize over for them to use in another event, though, because it wasn't really anything I needed.) There was alcohol, but nothing worth drinking."
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That's something. I'm glad he didn't drink. Somehow the idea of him drinking without me there was particularly painful. He becomes a little more of himself when he drinks. A little more present in the moment, a little more laid back, a little more easy in himself. More devious. I craved that part of him, and coveted it for myself.
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"It was hosted at the new branch of the local Juice Bar, but they haven't finished the site, so I was disappointed to find that there was no juice. There was water with cucumber and lime in it though, which was good," he concluded.
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My heart ached. I couldn't reply right away. I set the tablet down.
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Hibiscus came in and joined me in my bed and we talked for an hour or two. He fucked me in my ass. I wasn't particularly interested, but I was delighted that he was. I have a man who wants me. Wants me even when I'm not teasing him. Wants me even when I'm not dressed up all sexy. Wants me even if I don't put on my sexy voice. Wants me readily, often, easily. It soothed my aching spirit.
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After Hibiscus came on me (he decided to pull out, turn me over and cum between my breasts), he showered and dressed to get ready for a trip to the bank with another member of Silverstag Eco Hamlet. They were working on getting taxes and other such things settled.
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I re-read Paladin's text again, triggered all over again. Can I really feel that he is mine if we're living apart like this? Can he join me here at Silverstag somehow? Do I want him to? What would he do with his life then? What is he doing with it now?
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The whole subject scalded me; blazing and burning and bludgeoning me. Paladin . . .
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"That sounds like a lot of fun," I replied. "Wish I could have been there. I would have loved to dance with you and see your costume." Did someone take a picture? Can I see you? But I was simultaneously afraid to see a picture. Oh, how that would hurt!
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After a little more contemplation I added: "I wonder if I've been subconsciously putting pressure on your subconscious to prevent you from having a life outside of me because I knew I'd feel this way - envious, remorseful, aching with desire."
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. . .
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My subconscious was pulling on more and more unlikely songs, ones I literally hadn't heard in over a decade.
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"If you wanna be with me . . . Baby there's a price to pay . . . I'm a genie in a bottle . . . You gotta rub me the right way." From Christina Aguilera's Genie in a Bottle.
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Unlike Wait and Bleed, I could see the connection immediately. Paladin hadn't paid the price I asked, and I'd found a new buyer.
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"If you wanna be with me . . . I can make your wish come true . . . You gotta make a big impression . . . Gotta like what you do. . . . Waiting for someone . . . To release me. . . . If you wanna be with me . . . I can make your wish come true . . . Just come and set me free baby . . . And I'll be with you. . . . I'm a genie in a bottle baby . . . Come, come, come on and let me out."
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It's not true that love can't be bought. On the contrary, love as we know it is always bought, I thought.