BJ’s

He sat down and ordered two Jeremiah Reds and smiled.

For the longest time he had wondered if there would be another meal wtih her at BJ’s and here they were.

Well, here he was waiting for her…again.

She was stuck in traffic or something, he hadn’t read the text that closely, and would be there shortly.

He debated whether he would say something about it and knew he probably shouldn’t. She would point out she tended to be more timely than he was and she was right.

But there was some truth to his saying he had waited for her because he had years of practice.

Hadn’t been planned or intended it was just how things had worked out, part of the joy of life.

You walked along a path with the assumption it would lead you to your destination in a straight line and then discovered said line was squiggly.

His musing was interrupted by a feeling that made him look up and he chuckled.

She was walking through the door and looking for him.

Two things never ceased to amaze him, how he could always feel her presence and how good she looked.

Bells would ring inside his head and he would know she was thinking about him or about to enter a room.

She had told him long before that she felt it too and that she always knew when he was going to call.

He wondered if that was still the same and might have asked but he was too busy watching her walk.

“Sorry, I am late. What are you staring at?”

“You.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

He thought about saying “you are not naked” but opted for a more sedate “you grow more beautiful every year.”

 

Sleep With You? Maybe

He sat in the back of a noisy airport bar drinking a beer and watching the people walk by.

It had been a month of way too much travel and more commotion than he would have liked.

Harried travelers surrounded him and he wondered how many were self-medicating before being jammed into one of those flying metal tubes.

Maybe they hoped a nice buzz would keep them from somehow being forcibly removed from the plane.

There really shouldn’t be any correlation between the two but moments in life often lacked relevance and logical order.

He tilted his head and bottle back and thought about whether it would be smarter to buy another or call it a day.

Over to his right a man who definitely hadn’t figured out when to say when was singing along to Call Me Maybe.

The sight made him snort and got him thinking about the girl who hadn’t called him.

Of course he hadn’t called her either, but he was fairly certain he was going to make her call him first.

****

The thought made him laugh because they were far too old for this kind of game but at their core they were just a boy and a girl who had fallen so deeply in love it was hard to see straight.

Truth was he was certain she still loved him but he couldn’t say that she was still in love with him. She had told him she wasn’t a couple of times before and then things had happened that made her confess she still was.

He had responded in kind at least once.

“I don’t love you either and I faked every orgasm.”

He didn’t really remember if she had believed him but he figured she probably didn’t.

The drunk with the beer bottle microphone had decided to change the lyrics to Sleep With Me Maybe and was freestyling now but thanks to the magic of alcohol it was getting hard to understand what the new lyrics were.

“You know that is the kind of thing that makes women swoon. I bet your friend gets laid tonight.”

She was dressed in a denim skirt and a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt.

He almost asked her if she realized she had failed Goth costume class but didn’t because he didn’t feel like talking.

“It is rude to ignore people.”

That was enough to draw him out and he told her he wasn’t cool enough to talk and had no witty banter to share.

“That is too bad. You look like you might have a brain.”

“Got no brain and got no heart.”

“She really fucked you up, didn’t she.”

“I didn’t say anything about a woman.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“She didn’t fuck me up. There is no woman and I am just another tired traveler.”

“You are a bad liar and she fucked you up.”

“How do you know she isn’t fucked up about me too?”

“I knew you were lying about her.”

“I didn’t lie. My heart was torn out years ago and that shit doesn’t grow back. It is why I am unfiltered and mean.”

“You don’t look so mean to me.”

“That is part of what makes me so nasty, you’d never expect it.”

“That is not true, I can see the asshole in you.”

“I don’t know whether to say thank you or fuck you very much.”

She laughed and asked me to buy her a beer.

He said she should find another sucker, grabbed his backpack and walked away.

“You suck. You really are an asshole.”

He turned and glared, “don’t make me angry, you wouldn’t like me when I am angry.”

This time she laughed, “ok hulk man, go find a new town to crash in.”

****

Ten minutes later he sat on the floor in the terminal and listened to a random mix of music.

Carole King was singing Will You Love Me Tomorrow and he was lost in thoughts about a past that would forever remain ensconced in memory and questions about the future he was heading back into.

“This is a hell of a song to come on now, but not as cheesy as Leaving On A Jetplane would be,” he thought.

He didn’t know the history of the song but he figured thinking about potential answers would be an interesting way to pass some of the three hours he had to fill.

It really didn’t make sense for it to be about a one night stand or a brief encounter so it had to be about people who had a relationship.

Could be about friends who were choosing to cross the line between friendship and more or it could be about existing lovers who were having problems.

He didn’t believe that all loves were meant to last but he was certain that some had the ability to go the distance.

That was really his central hang up with the girl who didn’t call anymore. He didn’t believe she had stopped loving him or that she had really fallen out of love with him.

He thought it was possible she had convinced herself those things were true because it made some things easier, but he didn’t buy it.

It was possible he was wrong, but he wasn’t planning on having a conversation about it.

But if he changed his mind he figured he could follow the lead of the drunk and sing to her.

Obviously he’d use the new lyrics and croon “sleep with me maybe.”

Yeah, that would be the thing that made her run for his bed. Of course he could always reach out and tell her he wasn’t sure he was willing to sleep with her and see what sort of response that would create.

Of course she would probably remember when he had turned down her advances and said no.

She had tried that much harder to seduce him. Eventually he gave in and she figured out he had been messing with her.

They had laughed about it, hell they had laughed about a lot of things.

The silence now was palpable and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was temporary for forever.

Life was filled with so many unexpected twist and turns. You never knew if another random event would change things.

Many hours later he parked his car, walked up three flights of stairs into an empty place and thought about how easy it would be to picture her there.

Would she ever see it?

Maybe yes and maybe no.

Never could tell.

As he drifted off to sleep he caught himself singing Sleep with me maybe and chuckled his way into vivid dreams he couldn’t remember when he woke up.

I Tore My Pants

I tore my pants and I blame her.

Technically I should take responsibility but I blame her for being so damn sexy and for making me lose track of where I was and what I was doing.

****

Sometimes I think I scare the hell out of her but I know she is not physically afraid of me and that she knows if anyone threatened her I would rip off their arms and break their legs.

Nah, the fear she feels is the same as me, that we won’t be together and that we will.

That fire burns so brightly and is all consuming and when we let it burn bright we get lost in each other.

It is an addiction that we crave and run from.

****

Except running away is never a real option because it is too fucking hard and too painful.

Doesn’t mean it can’t be done or that we haven’t tried but we have never been successful.

We could be.

We could wear fire retardant clothing and pour holy water on the flames and shrink them to a place or point where we could pretend not to feel.

Or look back and smile as if we were remembering a high school love.

Nostalgia would make a great dummy to hang it all upon. Nostalgia would be the scape goat we send to the desert in the hope it would help wash it all away.

But some day we would remember.

****

We have made love a million times and in a million different spaces and places. She has given herself to me in every way that can be done as I have for her and yet there are places we haven’t explored.

There are grassy meadows covered in Fall foliage and beaches with crystal clear water we have never explored.

And no one knows if we will or we won’t.

She has wrapped her arms around my neck and stared in my eyes but we have never danced to any music except that which we hear in our secret world.

Sometimes I am confident that first dance will happen and sometimes I am certain it never will.

The seesaw moves from side to side and then something reminds me that nothing here has been predictable and yet everything could have been forecasted with ease.

No one ever said it would be so very hard or so very easy.

If she let me I could carry her in my arms or upon my back for as long as necessary and I would never think twice of it.

Her hands fit inside mine and her body never feels strange wrapped around mine.

Sometimes we pretend otherwise but that is fear speaking and the funny thing is I fear almost nothing.

****

I tore my pants and I blame her.

That is ok, she blames me for many things too.

But mostly I blame us, usually with a smile.

You’re Mine

You’re mine and have been for years.

That is not as territorial nor as possessive as it sounds, it is just a statement of fact.

Sure there have been more than a few times when you have disputed this and or called me crazy for saying such things.

Those have always been punctuated by the moments in which you have told me I was yours and always would be and suggested there would never be a reason why it would be any different.

Sometimes I would suggest you operate off of your own double standards and then laugh when you tried to say otherwise. Logic is not as strong a suit as you might wish for and no amount of protest will change my mind.

And now stuck between George singing My Sweet Lord and It Don’t Come Easy a wry smile crosses my face.

Two days ago I was accused of being deaf and of being able to ignore the world and I laughed because I am and I can.

It don’t come easy but the best things never do.

They ask for the difference between crazy and insane and all I do is wink.

The music in this place is still pumping out songs of long ago but ones that sometimes have meaning that transcends time and space.

Understanding meets misunderstanding and chaos is unleashed because no one hears the words that are said or listens to those that follow.

The time for thought is past and action takes its place but no one knows where the ball will end up on the spinning wheel or whether its placement will lead to cheering or cries of sorrow.

One giant adventure caused by a contraction and the word that follows. You’re mine.

Maybe once upon a lifetime ago or maybe never again and the silver ball bounces from red to black to red to black to…

The Game Is Afoot

He was standing in the middle of an airport waiting for a plane to take him back to his new home when he realized he was slow dancing by himself.

Willie was singing The Last Thing I Needed First Thing This Morning and he was softly swaying back and forth, lost in a secret world.

He wasn’t upset or embarrassed by the realization and it wasn’t because no one had noticed him but because it felt like a hint of the future.

Somewhere out in the ether there was someone who would say he was crazy to think such a thing. The thought made him giggle a bit and a curvy lip broke into a broad smile.

“The game is afoot now and there is no telling where it might end. Maybe in a book or a movie or a broken heart.

What would you do if I said I have never stopped loving you and that I can’t stomach the idea of never kissing you again. What would you do if I said we ought to ‘accidentally’ show up in the same theater and share a moment in a movie.”

The reflection mocked him and made the words sound hollow and forced.

He turned and unleashed the full force of his glare upon it and was gifted with the same look in return.

“I see through you. I know who you are. I own space in your head and your heart rent free. Maybe you’ll open your eyes or maybe you won’t. Willful blindness is a gift and a curse.”

He held out his hand and waited to see if the reflection would leave it hanging or take it.

A wink and a smile followed, “when you think of me, you ought to know I am…”

The Key To Everything

There are a bunch of stories about Johnny and June and the crazy twists and turns of their relationship.

One of them talks about crazy he would make her because as she would begin to feel close to him and think about connecting he would do things that would infuriate her.

She would wonder if it was intentional or if there was something about being male that made him blind.

Once she told him that all he had to do was keep his mouth shut and she would come running back. He had laughed and said that she didn’t want a mute and that neither one of them knew how to do that and when she smiled he knew she agreed.

Later on he told her that when she was gone he wondered if maybe she didn’t care as much and that he wished he could just pretend he felt nothing.

She had rolled her eyes at him and told him he was an idiot. They both smiled and held hands and stared out at the sunset.

******

There was another tale of a time when they were on tour together but not talking.

They’d ride the bus, sing their songs on stage and go their separate ways.

One night he got drunk and a made a comment that set her off and he got more than an earful in return.

She laid into him and he yelled back that he wasn’t a mind reader and she stormed off.

Later that night when he lay in bed desperate to talk to her but unwilling to let her know he thought about how it sometimes felt like they shared a heart.

Thought about how they could say soul mate one day and then roll their eyes the next like it never had truth.

Must be some sort of lock upon those things and if you could find the right key you would be set. 

He caught her staring at him a bunch of times and wondered what was going on.

Sometimes she glared and sometimes she smiled but she never said anything and since pride wouldn’t let him make the first move he stayed silent.

Sat there and wondered how long the nonsense would go on for this time.

There were moments where he thought about just kissing her. Wouldn’t say a word, would just walk up, grab her and kiss her.

The poets would talk about that and write verses about the electric shock that would hit them both.

It would be magic and she would melt.

Or she would slap him and call it assault.

So he did nothing more than think about it and occasionally send it out thoughts.

“Woman, if you really want to know what is going on you are going to have to reach out or make me feel comfortable reaching out. I have done what I can do.”

Years later when the biographers asked them if June had ever confirmed whether she could hear his thoughts they got a smile.

They pressed for words and got “I knew what I needed and what I needed him to do.”

Again they pressed for more detail and this time he responded, “every time I think I understand women and know what to something happens that makes me think I am a genius and an idiot.”

I am a simple man with simple needs. Don’t take that to mean I am stupid, because we’re not talking about intelligence either.”

And then he muttered something about a long and winding road and went silent.

Thoughts

He wasn’t going to move anything from heart to head to page because he was jammed for time or so he told himself.

Except brutal honesty required him to say he would put a few down because it was a sort of conversation with himself and someone important to him.

Because he was somewhere between scared and certain that everything he was doing was the best he could do and yet not good enough.

Had to keep moving forward because there was no time or reason to stay in place. The past was what was and the present wasn’t right for the future so moving forward was required.

Didn’t matter what certain outcomes were, none of the ones he hoped for could come from a stationary existence.

So he cast out his thought about many things, hugs, quiet conversations, laughter, hot sex and the quiet confidence that came from holding hands in silence.

There was more that could be said in more eloquent or more descriptive terms. Could be more romantic or more forceful because those were options too, but for the moment he could do nothing but tap a couple of keys.

Tickle that board and see what showed up on the page and wonder if confidence, and vulnerability would do a damn thing.

Maybe not, maybe yes, there was never a way to see what lay on the other side of doors you didn’t knock upon or try to open.

Take A Chance

Once upon a time he heard a story about an elderly woman who spoke longingly about a red haired boy.

None of her grandchildren knew who he was to her. They couldn’t say whether he was a lost love or lover or just some friend she once had.

At least one suspected that grandma had loved him deeply but not knowing more than that she had no way to figure out the particulars.

Most of the time she didn’t think twice about it but there were moments she wondered if maybe she and grandma shared more in common than they knew. Since grandma was long gone there wasn’t any way to make that determination which was too bad, because she was certain grandma could have offered excellent advice.

****

Back in her own world she had her own set of questions she thought about it but usually chose not to delve too deep because they took her to places that were uncomfortable.

There was a boy she was curious about. She tried hard not to let it show or to let him think she was because she wasn’t entirely certain what she wanted to do. If she showed too much interest she was certain he would take it the wrong way.

And that was problematic because he could cause chaos and she wanted simplicity.

The problem was she loved his brand of chaos and feared taking a chance because it was a storm that you couldn’t just control.

Sometimes she thought about asking him questions but his answers could be unsettling and obnoxious. He would tell her that when her legs were wrapped around him that he would gladly answer all of her questions.

Most of the time when he said such things she would push back hard and express her disgust but she wasn’t ever sure if she was angry with him for saying it or angry with herself for not going for it.

She never could decide if she was angrier with him for pushing or for not pushing hard enough.

*****

Of course he never forgot the time she told him she would never forgive him for not finding her earlier.

Every now and then he thought about asking her if she really meant it, expecting her to deny it, but the thought of her saying yes made him cringe a little bit.

Life could be so damn simple and so complicated.

Would be nice to have her legs wrapped around him because for however long that moment lasted everything would make sense.

He remembered asking for a favor and being certain she would say no. When she smiled and said yes he almost fainted.

Thinking about it made him look at the reflection and admit that he had no real idea where life might take him.

It was safest to not expect her to be a part of it or so he thought. That made him think of how many times she told him about life would be a certain way until she changed her mind.

That made him think of how many times she told him about life would be a certain way until she changed her mind.

It brought a chuckle to  his lips because he could see her tell him he was an idiot for thinking there was a possibility and an idiot for not believing there was.

As decisive as she might be that damn woman could still change her mind on a dime and try to make you believe you were just confused.

Places We Fear To Go

He thought about writing her a letter in which he would tell her his thoughts, no holds barred.

He’d tell her he never stopped loving her and say he believed she never stopped loving him.

It would say he thought fear had held them back from moving forward the way they had always wanted to and would be so eloquently crafted he knew she would take his hand and take the chance he never had.

“You just want to bang me. You’re a guy. You can put it anywhere and all you want is to get my pants off of me or have me drop to my knees.”

Those weren’t words he had to imagine because she had said them to him before and he had always disputed them, had pushed back.

Had told her she was an idiot if she believed he just wanted to have her for her body.

“I love and have always loved you for your heart. I love the smile you give me that no one else gets and how you make me remember what it is like to truly live.

I love the look in your eyes when we are in our world and knowing that no one else can take you there just as no one else takes me.”

He could have kept going down the path but it was easier to let anger wash over him and help him avoid being taken to the places we fear to go.

In his heart he was convinced she felt the same ache and desire for connection he did.

He was certain if they were alone and he pushed her against the wall she would look at him with fire in her eyes and use words that would scald his ears. She would call him names and tell him how awful and disturbed he was.

It would hurt to hear it as it always did when she turned her wrath upon him. He would never understand how he could ignore the barbs from everyone else and not care what they think.

She was different and he knew it. Always the response pierced his heart and always it hurt, but he didn’t always say so or show it. Maybe it was ego or maybe it was fear.

Maybe it was because he hated being vulnerable but remembered once upon a time she had made it ok for him to be so and he missed feeling the embrace of her smile and the safe space.

Sometimes he’d look in the mirror and ask the reflection how it felt to know he was fucked.

It was never as simple as saying love the one you’re with.

So anger was where you went to find succor and safety. If you couldn’t be in the secret world it was easier to be angry and to pick upon the things the other did that pissed you off.

Find and focus upon their shortcomings and convince yourself that those were reason enough not to try to visit the places we fear so that you didn’t have to face possible rejection.

Or if that didn’t work do something to intentionally piss the other off so they would respond in a way that helped you find a reason to become angry.

But sometimes he thought it didn’t matter what they said or did because some stories aren’t done until they are finished.

Because you could send her a crude note and remind her of things you had done and ask for the same special treatment because you figured she would be offended by your words.

Except the thing was you knew that she could be just as crude as you and that sometimes she appreciated such a thing. That as much as she loved being romanced she wanted to just be taken and told what to do.

And then you’d realize your head was spinning because you had talked yourself into doing something and then out of it because the reasons why it made sense didn’t really work.

Up was down and inside was out and fear was master.

Fear that she would say no and fear that she would say yes.

And then your reflection would taunt you with:

“you really are fucked. If you said the right thing she would respond as you wish but you’ll never figure it out and thus you’ll never get closure. Never know if you were right or find out that you were wrong but take solace in knowing what you needed to know.”

“Go fuck yourself” would fly from your lips with enough venom and irritation to kill a legion and you’d go to the gym.

Everything was twice as hard as it needed to be and that was frustrating, but somewhere in the echoes of your mind you’d feel a soft touch and hear a soft voice and the anger would drain.

You never tried to find the source or figure out whose voice it was because it was enough to know that this moment would pass and eventually you’d find that place and inner peace again.

Asking For Help

He closed his eyes and looked for that place we think of us as our center and focused on clearing his mind.

Need and want pushed him to be as certain as possible that he determine what was going on so that he could make a good decision.

That wasn’t going to be easy because he wanted to know exactly what would happen if he went forward, sideways, up, down or diagonal.

Didn’t matter that he knew what he sought was impossible because he still wanted it, but he was practical enough to understand it wouldn’t happen.

The best he could do was make an informed decision and just roll with it.

Might be time to ask for help, if you can’t answer all of the questions because you are too new to know who, how or where to go/ask…

Was it pride or ego holding things up or something else…

Eyes closed, he searched and searched and searched.

Eventually he thought he heard or felt something that sounded like an answer and went to find out.