Part I
I was all ready for you to be out here waiting for me with a little sign and everything for when I got off the plane, she says. I'm so bummed out now.
She pretends she's kidding with a smile. But she's not. And my heart sinks into my stomach.
Why didn't I think about a sign? That would have been so flippin' cute of me.
The walk back to the train is quiet, but pleasant. She is tired and I carry her bag. We stop at the ladies room so she can remove her contacts.
Watch my stuff carefully, she says. I don't want nobody taking it. She grins and skips off into the bathroom. I stand over her stuff like a menace. Ain't nobody taking it. Nobody did. My efforts do not go unrewarded. I now get not only to carry her bag, but also her purse. And I must say, green looks soooo cute on me.
She rubs her eyes with an exhausted sigh as we travel down the escalator. I try not to look down at her as often as I do.
We hop on the train and she sits down in an empty seat. I don't sit next to her, but in the seat in front of her sitting to the side. This way I don't have to awkwardly look over my shoulder and down my arm at her to talk.
She rests her head on the back of my seat and we talk about nonsense, friendly things. She's so tired.
A few stops later quite a few people enter the train and she moves her bag, telling me to sit next to her so some creep doesn't have to. I do, and after a few more minutes of talking she decides to take a nap and lets her head fall backwards
right into a metal bar.
Oooow... she pouts at me. I laugh and move my arm behind her and over the metal deviant.
She rests her head over and onto my chest. As much as I'd like to claim this was a smooth exploitation of the situation to get my arm around her, it... yeah, it kind of was.
She falls asleep right away. I sit still and look ahead, an hour long train ride ahead of me.
The train jostles around violently for the first few stops, and I do my best to use my arm to neutralize the violent thrashes of the train as she naps, but I can't do so without gripping her, holding her tightly to my side, and I can't bring myself to do it. It's not my place anymore.
I just honestly want her to be comfortable, and while I do the best that I can, I just feel helpless.
The next hour is spent with a tense arm and vacant eyes as I stare out the window to my right. My mind stalls with all the things it tries to devote time to at once.
A few days ago I sat down with my roommate and discussed the two things I dreaded most about this visit. It will either be the longest, most tense, horribly awkward and unbearable visit in the entire universe, or I will fall for her all over again and start this painfully familiar dance from the very beginning.
And as I watch the tunnel lights fly by the window and feel her awkwardly, yet comfortably, resting on my shoulder, I fear the latter has already begun to take effect.
She pretends she's kidding with a smile. But she's not. And my heart sinks into my stomach.
Why didn't I think about a sign? That would have been so flippin' cute of me.
The walk back to the train is quiet, but pleasant. She is tired and I carry her bag. We stop at the ladies room so she can remove her contacts.
Watch my stuff carefully, she says. I don't want nobody taking it. She grins and skips off into the bathroom. I stand over her stuff like a menace. Ain't nobody taking it. Nobody did. My efforts do not go unrewarded. I now get not only to carry her bag, but also her purse. And I must say, green looks soooo cute on me.
She rubs her eyes with an exhausted sigh as we travel down the escalator. I try not to look down at her as often as I do.
We hop on the train and she sits down in an empty seat. I don't sit next to her, but in the seat in front of her sitting to the side. This way I don't have to awkwardly look over my shoulder and down my arm at her to talk.
She rests her head on the back of my seat and we talk about nonsense, friendly things. She's so tired.
A few stops later quite a few people enter the train and she moves her bag, telling me to sit next to her so some creep doesn't have to. I do, and after a few more minutes of talking she decides to take a nap and lets her head fall backwards
right into a metal bar.
Oooow... she pouts at me. I laugh and move my arm behind her and over the metal deviant.
She rests her head over and onto my chest. As much as I'd like to claim this was a smooth exploitation of the situation to get my arm around her, it... yeah, it kind of was.
She falls asleep right away. I sit still and look ahead, an hour long train ride ahead of me.
The train jostles around violently for the first few stops, and I do my best to use my arm to neutralize the violent thrashes of the train as she naps, but I can't do so without gripping her, holding her tightly to my side, and I can't bring myself to do it. It's not my place anymore.
I just honestly want her to be comfortable, and while I do the best that I can, I just feel helpless.
The next hour is spent with a tense arm and vacant eyes as I stare out the window to my right. My mind stalls with all the things it tries to devote time to at once.
A few days ago I sat down with my roommate and discussed the two things I dreaded most about this visit. It will either be the longest, most tense, horribly awkward and unbearable visit in the entire universe, or I will fall for her all over again and start this painfully familiar dance from the very beginning.
And as I watch the tunnel lights fly by the window and feel her awkwardly, yet comfortably, resting on my shoulder, I fear the latter has already begun to take effect.
posted by AHaynes at 2:00 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home