She got back from work just before dawn broke. Odd timings came as a package deal of having a job she loved. The day had been particularly unforgiving. She had worked a twenty hour shift with an unfading smile on her face.
She unlocked the door as silently as she could, knowing the two men she loved, would be sleeping in peace. One of them met her as she entered, smiling and wagging his tail at the same time. She put her finger on lips, signalling him to be quite, then sat down to meet him. One hug from the old boy and she was already feeling better. Both of them walked in to the cooler section of the house.
She saw him sleep under the white sheets.
The indigo light from the window was making his face glow. His breathing was soft and calm like he was far away in his sleep. She slipped out of her clothes and slipped in beside him. She felt his bare cold skin against hers calmed her soul down. He put his arm around her, still sleeping, now with a smile on his face. He moved comfortably into her space.
She had everything that made her life perfect right there. A content heart, arms that waited for her and the music of the heart she lived in coming from the chest she slept upon.
To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else’s heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.
We sat in the car and the night dropped down around us. The only sounds were the crickets and the dance of our voices. For a moment the world became small enough to roll back & forth between us. Everything was an adventure, at night. We were where we shouldn’t be, even if it was somewhere we could go perfectly well in daylight, and it was then only ordinary. It had something to do with the ebony veil that surrounded us. It all seemed right in the velvet hue.
Lying on the hood of the car we stared at the heavens like we belonged. The stars appeared first, as if someone had thrown a handful of silver across the edge of the world. Then came the moon smiling coyly as if he was a part of the plan. The wind tiptoed around listening in on our whispers. In that moonstruck moment, the rights and the wrongs got lost in ivory satin that wrapped itself around us, and we found life.
You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect—you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break—her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.
Even when he had been gone a long time, her mind was clouded with his thoughts. It happened a lot more on some days than others. Today was one of those when she had to push them away just so she could get some work done. She sat staring at the computer screen for a long time. Reading, yet not turning the page, just lazing around between the lines.
She could have done it for hours, but her dog had different plans. He needed to be taken out for his walk. She looked at his cute little face which had the most innocent eyes, looking back at her with his leash in his mouth. She shut her computer and walked to the door, with Mr. Bond in tow.
Walking on the usual route she kept her eyes on the casanova she was walking as he socialized with his clan. Just as the thought of he being a very well behaved dog crossed her mind, Mr. Bond ran, as if on a mission, pulling her along with all his might. She turned the corner behind him and her heart stopped beating even when it was racing. There were a lot of people on the side walk but her eyes saw just him.
He was down on one knee, holding the dogs face in his hands, telling him that he missed him. He looked up and met her eyes. She let the leash drop as he walked towards her. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. His hug said it all.
They stood there in a crowd sharing an intimate moment, kissing each others wounds as they healed. Caressing the torn skin and mending the broken parts within.
She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world when she wrote. She wrote because she needed to write, because she hoped someone will listen or because writing will mend something broken inside her or bring something back to life. She was stubborn, she was wise. She was immoderate and volatile. She spoke through her eyes, and mostly wore a disguise.