B sides

Tonight...

I was with someone else at our favorite place. Three tables away and a glass door in between, I saw us at our table over flambe and drinks. I was happy and smiling. Just getting over the flu. Looking at us a short distance away. I don't remember what we ate- it didn't matter much those days; nothing did except for the time we spent together. Like two divers preparing to go deep, we'd hold our breath between a touch, a kiss.

"You, is all I care about" you once whispered into my ear in the rain, outside a restaurant, taking me under your suit's wing.

I so wanted to feel something towards you and me three tables and a glass door away but was distracted by my date and the food. Beef sate', braised scallops, a steak. Two glasses of Sancerre, a chocolate dessert. It has been two years. Or maybe three. Until recently- it felt like a week. And then I saw you- the you I hadn't let myself see. And it was over- abruptly, taken away, leaving me breathless. Again. And in some strange way, I miss missing you. And I miss the pain. And I miss knowing you had made a mistake. Because now all that's left is the emptiness of knowing you were never really there--two empty chairs and a table away--I wouldn't have been yours in the end.

You poured words into me from your glass. Red and deep like the sea, thick with intention.  I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, drinking in your silent breath. Fish and oysters steaming in brown sauce. Asparagus wands- a few grits of salt. We sit at a table to eat. I lean back in my chair and look at your eyes over the candle light. Eat, you say, almost softly. I carefully hold my fork and poke at my plate. It doesn’t break. I eat. Conversation flows. Tall glasses of champagne, raspberries’ hairs dancing at the bottom.  I will them to float but they won’t.  If they float by the time I reach 10 I’ll never ask for anything ever again…1...2...3… Your words are swirling in my head. So are the flowers on the mantle--double images of purple and white. The music trails between the chairs. I don’t want to go. Your hand at my jaw, my earring rests in the warm dryness of your skin. Your lips on mine I forget it all and stand there as time bends. Your mouth is warm like silk and your skin smells of summer and of faraway seas. I hear myself laugh. A moment without fight.  And then it’s gone. I’m in my car- hands on the wheel, foot at the gas pedal. If I had known, I would have stayed more, but instead I go. There will be more nights like this, I say to your warm hand and your lips and your words. But the tears have already gathered, eleven dark tears, rocking to the rhythm of my thoughts. Your words are paper weights in my stomach, their landing echoes softly at the bottom of my sea. With a last movement I turn, dark water all around. A drop of red wine. Your eyes. 1...2...3...4...