i sit, the next morning, after occupying my mind so prone to wander with tutorials, casual chit-chat and dramatics, on this chair, in this room, alone. although the voice of keren ann sings in french and breathes 'elsewhere..., elsewhere..." on loop i am sane enough to say i am where exactly i want to be. despite the tangible shadows of us last night scurrying around me in fast forward, despite the noises we made now stuck like post-its all over the walls, despite the feeling of supposed joy we shared having become a pool of endless depth in the middle of the room, so large, so stark, that i cannot miss.
i look out the strip of window, and the spotless sunshine of midday darkens swiftly like the opening of an opera; it's all dark and it is last night. and you are there, walking past the carpark, towards your car. after a kiss and a hug, after changing my bedsheets, after cleaning up, after sleeping with me, after talking about something that nearly made you cry, after stealing into the room, after dinner, after being driven around, after i asked that you come over, after i thought it will be all nice and fuzzy, after i thought we will be happy.
now. no more of last night.
my stomach is queasy. i feel like throwing up. i cannot concentrate because scenes of last night flash in my mind like placards in a demonstration, red, red, red, spilled across in stiff lines making up words, making up phrases, making up objection. when a sign shoots up in your mind you either grab it or don't look. i didn't look last night, and now, it grabs me.
what was i saying, loving you through an sms? after the orgasm everything becomes clearer. along with guilt.
it is a joke. maybe a riddle. i've seen them couples, in their forties. and they get an apartment together, they live together, breathe together, and then they break up, and one of them gets another boyfriend, and the other calls me over to his place. it's okay, they say, they know it's like that. but like what, i ask. like what? that you know more of what love is as you grow, or that you know how to deal with love as you grow, or worse, that you know how to give love names and definitions as you go by? is there no one whom i can say sweet nothings to and mean it now, later, next week, next year, maybe till forever?
why, he asks, do i feel this way all of a sudden? why did i say that i had feelings for him?
i did, i do. but who's to put a finger on these feelings? not that i am being irresponsible, but really, that was how i felt. i felt a burst of emotion. you came back, you spoke, i got to know you again. i will not blame myself for having such a strong desire for you. i needed that closure. maybe now i can say so, but i didn't know what i was feeling then, how was i to know?
i can't explain this suddenness, except maybe that i have always had my doubts. but i had chosen to ignore the doubts, to let them continue to fog over the details, to fog over the rift of uncertainties gaping between my hand and my mind, to fog over the romance i've dedicated to my endeavours.
and as said. after the orgasm everything becomes clearer.
and after that some of us go on to blur our own vision, while others go on to stare at that growing pool in the middle of their rooms.
some write about them, without necessarily knowing what they are writing, without necessarily knowing more than they already knew before.