Saturday, June 06, 2009

I meet Benjamin at a popular blues nightclub after a very unexpected phone call.

I meet Benjamin at a popular blues nightclub after a very unexpected phone call. The trumpets blow swollen melodies of lust and tenderness right across the room and into our conversation. It makes it that much harder to ignore the fact that we were once engaged and almost married. It makes it impossible to forget that he now has a wife waiting for him at home. It makes it all the more sweeter when he leans across the clothed expanse of the small round table and tells me that he misses me. I hear the regret in his confession. I see the years replaying across the film of his blue eyes. Suddenly the music is too intimate. The implications and the heartbreak of every note is only magnifying the reality of where we both are in relation to where we once were. I get up from my seat with some mild effort, almost spilling my glass of wine. He knows my clumsiness only comes out when I’m nervous, when I’m nervous and falling in love all over again. He doesn’t say anything though. He’s so good to me and pretends that there’s nothing going on except a friendly meeting between friends. He even steps aside to let me pass as I head towards the door. I pray that he’ll follow me, and he does.

Outside in the street the crowd is dispersing. People are making their way home, hand in hand, body leaning against body for support, for a closeness that is fed by vulnerability. No one wants to get lost on a dark night like this. One street lamp is out and for a split second I don’t notice that he actually has followed me out. But when I feel someone brush up against me as softly as a feather landing on the pavement, I know it’s him. I can smell his cologne and I recognize it as the same brand I bought him for his birthday three years ago. I wonder if it’s the same bottle. I wonder if he’s going to follow me all the way home.

[to be continued...]