It’s 12:56 p.m. I wake up…she’s already up…
My new haircut isn’t as becoming as I thought it would be to her. She thinks I look like a mad scientist from the 80’s….
What’s wrong with that?
Her: “The 80’s is full of bad decisions…hair styles…fashion…”
Morning sex is nice…
Treating myself to French Toast for breakfast—I make Anthony some too.
I hear a tap at my door…its Rachel: “Robert? Listen I know you’re in there aging…”
It’s my birthday and I just have no desire to do anything except relax…
Sitting in my room listening and singing along to music on my Itunes—the longer I’m alive the more I realize how important music is to me.
Sharing Trail Mix and Lemonade with Anthony…
Basketball date with Anthony in the Latitudes neighborhood (Rachel’s turf)…
Me: “What’s the opposite of ‘That’s the worst’?”
Him: “I love that stuff!”
Margot shows up dressed to the nines, blue top, white skirt, yellow high heels, like the prettiest girlfriend ever—she gives me a birthday card…She tagged my car using window markers with statements like,,,,,,,“I luv yew hunnie bunz” and “sexy doodz”.
She takes me out to Plaza Azteca for Mexican.
Dinner: Chips and Salsa with Fresh Guacamole. Spinach Chicken Enchiladas and Rice.
Her behavior is full bodied with special attention for me, acting all cutsie and offering kisses and touching me tenderly. I’m her birthday boy, as the envelope of my card states, “MY ♥Baby♥…mine.mine.mine.”
I’m feeling somber and overwhelmed, maybe, but I can’t help but keep this permanent smirk on my face—she’s so adorable and beautiful and loving. She senses the despondence though…
Her: “What’s wrong baby?”
Me: “Birthday jitters.”
Back home, the house is packed with celebration and high quality moods. It’s noisy everywhere….
She bought me a pint of one of the finest beers in the world, Chimay, a trappist ale. With its 9% alcohol content I’m feeling full—resonating with everything around me…
Stephanie and Margot are twins! Look…
Sharing the “I ♥ U” cake she baked for me…
Later, back upstairs in my room she presents the last of my birthday gifts…
Her: “Close your eyes!”
Me: “Okay, they’re closed.”
Her: “Keep them closed…[repeats this but in a singing voice]”
Then she stands, her body adorned with an attractive black and white lingerie outfit from Victoria’s Secret…lovemaking ensues…she drank a bottle of wine so she’s sedated yet ultra-feely—more moans than usual coming out of her mouth, so much I’m sure the rest of the house can hear us—I take it all in because she’s so into it—the reigns are in my control—a fire—an intensity kept exclusively for me—enduring and long…it’s done. We lay down. She sniffles and cries quietly…
What’s wrong?
I just love you so much…
I know. I love you too…don’t worry…I’m right here…I’m right here…
I immediately recall the time I did this back in February. I bawled my eyes after sex then. I remember what that felt like. She’s really scared, terrified of losing me. Thinking back to what she said in my birthday card…she presented a letter that was utterly self-aware and apologetic—recognizing our dangers and fears. The last words: “Not to be a Deb, but if things don’t work out, I want you to know I will always be here for you and will always love you. Love you forever! But I will die if we separate…”
She walks across the room for a visit to the bathroom and accidently slams her foot into a metal hinge sticking out of my guitar case. I tend to her wound with a cold rag, ointment, and a band-aid….
Time for sleep…4 a.m.
1 comment:
that's a snazzy picture.
a humorous memory from that night was as i was cutting cake for margot and asked, "how far in? just tell me when to stop." i didnt think anything of it until you repeated it back.
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