Page 25 of David's Love

I close my eyes and listen to the music, the smart ass voice chattering in my head.

‘For one, you’re naked, waiting to hear from him, so you can do your little web chat virtual sex business. Both pretending that this is filthy and lustful, pure sex, when your head is in some creepy writing cave, spewing out lyrical shit.’

I ponder before pushing out a chuckle.

“Lyrical shit? Who the fuck talks like that?”

‘The voice inside your head.’

She gives me a smile.

We are in better terms now.

‘Go on.’

‘You’re screwed, babe. You like this man. You like him like he’s some dude from school. You’re taking small trips into your soul, searching for deep meanings. He’s told you about that woman, and you already resonate with him. Do you know what I mean by that?’

I probably do, but I want to hear it from someone, and why not be her?

I love where this is going.

‘Not exactly.’

She chuckles.

‘You’re a petty liar, but I indulge you.’

She goes serious again.

‘It’s like you put your heart to his and felt things he could not even acknowledge. You’re talking about loss and grief and pain that go deeper than the usual ache when you stub your toe. You describe resilience, hope, and healing. And hope is the most important one. Perhaps his journey comes to an end. And that end means a door opens to some normalcy. But…’

I’m still all ears.

‘You don’t know if any of that is real. That’s how it feels. Perhaps that’s how he feels. But a heart’s way is strange and convoluted. One moment, it goes to the light, and the other, it spins away from it, embracing the dark. He might not be who you think he is. You’ve already hit a roadblock with him. Life can be harsh like that. Unwilling to make amends. It can put a wrench in your plans when you expect it the least and likes to test things, people, and feelings. His journey is not yours to take. He has to show you a few things so you can believe him. Does he treat you nicely? Yes, he does. But that’s in his blood.’

Silence follows her words while I soak them in, each bearing nuggets of truth.

The phone buzzes with a message.

It’s my mother, to my chagrin. Not that I don’t want to hear from her. It’s just that I want to hear from him more than anyone else right now.

Am I a little off?

Am I wrong?

Or am I right?

Has my intuition sharpened and caught clues otherwise hard to spot?

What if I put out what my heart wants to happen?

Oh, I’m so not ready for it.

I send her a reply and put the phone back on the bed, face down.

As much as I’d love to move away from speculating, I become restless and pick up the phone again before eventually sliding it down and opening the laptop.

I hate it when I run in circles.

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