In my head the lyrics looped, do you think about me now and then, do you still remember when? I'm coming home again. My phone rang and I couldn't avoid it because we had been parked together for so long that I had no more excuses.
His voice was pitched and stressed out and I wondered if it was possible for him to be feeling worse for me than I was. And I knew that if it was possible, he was. We talked and I joked and tried to make light of it, to ease his worry, and meanwhile fingertip to fingertip we exchanged vows through open windows, words unspoken. I looked over at him once and he was crying. I looked over at him once or twice and he was crying.
Holy Father, hear my prayer.
I looked at him underneath the distorting lamplight and he just looked away, out the fogged up passenger window, and clamped down on that piece of skin that bridges the nose, that links eyebrow to eyebrow. What do you say when you see a mountain crumble? What good are words when nothing makes sense?
Later on a call, because I could not stay busy enough, we looked at each other, contemplating the reality of having to blow away a fucker wanting suicide by cop, and at the same time we had the same thought, the same solution. He just smiled at me as I pulled my gun and we two went forward, in a fucked up waltz, never once stepping on the other's toes. What will you do when I'm gone, and if, I wondered.
I drove around in concentric rings of not wanting to give it up, and every now and then our paths met up, every now and then we hunted in the same circles. When we were still for a moment all that he could tell me was that I was loved, did I know how much I was loved? The boys bolstering for me, even the laziest of them out to write tickets as if one hundred dollars here or there was the answer. The redness around his eyes and the way he looks away.
Later today I will break the news. Later today it will be like the ton of bricks that he talks about laying so heavily on his chest.
But not now. Now just the memory and the gratefulness. No matter what happens I have had so much more than so many others.
St. Michael, hear my prayer.
Hang on tightly, let go lightly.
About Me
- porfiry
- The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break, it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure that it will kill you too, but there will be no special hurry.