I kissed her. It was a rugged night – a night torn near in two brought simply together with a kiss. And then when that too fell apart – was brought back again by what other hungers we had. And when that exhausted, was sung to sleep by unquestioning care in soft voices. She told me, she told me how sad she was to be getting over him. She told me how much it hurts to see someone from your past lose their allure and fall from your life. And I held her and said true things that felt at least true to me in their rare sincerity. And I kissed her to make it better. And she asked – she asked if it was possible to agree never to go away from one another. She said it hurts her, to think you lose people. I gave her a couple non-answers. I owe her better ones.
I told her after she said she was sad, I asked, would it make you feel any better to know that being with you has been the first time I’ve been able to see futures for myself not centered around V? And it helped so much, she hugged and her face was warm and pressed and I knew she meant it.
Let it be for documents sake, without detracting, that I say too, subtle as this should be understood perfectly only by me, and in ambiguity to anyone else – there was a rigid dance, a dance we’d done before once, but contained, and this time, one that took well over and was grand. It ended where these words inseminate from – and I felt good, felt capable, felt that bind lifted.
I feel fearless. I feel grown. I feel just so slightly tipsy. The next years are gold for me – and Victoria – let me feel no fear in her name – she belongs to words now.
Liana. I’ll write about her. I’ll write a book about her when its done. That’s not true – it won’t be done – that’s why it could exist – and when it crashes, and when it soars, hold my conviction steady – fragile as it should be.