Page 67 of Nights Without Night
“Hey.” There is a moment of silence. “That picture…”
“Can we do this tomorrow?” I interrupt. He ignores me.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Can we just…we can talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Iván.”
“You. You, you, I was thinking about you. What else would I be thinking about?” I say almost bitterly. He rounds the couch and stands there, feet away from me.
“What about me?”
“I…don’t know. I can’t put it into words, that’s what the damn picture is for,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, protecting myself from the hit that’s about to come.
Isadoro says nothing. The silence lengthens, stretching my skin and tendons until I feel like they’re going to snap.
“Isa-” I start, but he’s walking towards me. Slowly, with that look I’ve seen so many times before like he’s piercing a hole right to my core. I can’t look at him, but when he reaches me his hands cup my face. He doesn’t even tilt it up, just runs his thumb against my cheek.
“I love you,” he says. I close my eyes.
“I know,” I reply, waiting for the ‘but…’.
Instead, “Iván,” he says, a call. Reluctantly, I open my eyes and look at him. As soon as I do, my heart rabbits ahead. An animal part of me recognizes that expression, even if my mind can’t quite believe it.
“Iván,” he repeats, pressing the words against my temple. “How can you not know? I thought you’d always known.”
“Known what? Known what?” I ask, choking on the wordalways.
“That I love you, and want you, and am…fucking crazy about you. Crazy out of my mind from this, this…this feeling, this wanting and…” I stare at him incredulously. He grasps my face more firmly, pressing his words into my skin.
“I used to watch you sleep when we were kids. Teenagers,” he says, and a burst of laughter leaves me.
“What! Isa…what are you talking about? That is literally the creepiest thing you’ve ever said and trust me, buddy, the list is long on that one,” I say. He laughs.
“I know. I know. But I just…I couldn’t help myself when you slept right there so close and I would just…want. Want to be there on that side, in your bed and…”
“Then why didn’t you?” I ask, clutching at the front of his shirt like I can make him go back and fix all the pain his absence had caused.
“Because I knew that’s not how you felt then. I don’t know when it changed, but-”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Isa, I’ve always been in love with you. I feel like I’ve loved you longer than I’ve known you, sometimes,” I say. Isadoro stares at me.
“Don’t say that,” he says quietly, the shadow cast by a plea. “Don’t say that.”
“Isa-”
“You didn’t. Not like I did. I looked. God, I looked, you didn’t need me-”
“What does that have to do with anything?Need? You went, you left, if anyone didn’t need-”
“No. You don’t know. When I was deployed…you don’t know what having you here gave me. An anchor. And I know, maybe…Maybe you’re right and need shouldn’t come into this and I’m all fucked up. You should be with-”
“Don’t fucking tell me who I should be with. Who do you think you are? I get to decide who I’m with, not you!”
“I’m all fucked up,” Isadoro says, a whisper in a confession box. “I can’t…go dancing with you, or-”
“Isadoro you idiot, I’ve been here every step of the way! I’ve been here, and I’m still here, and I’ll fucking stay here. Do you think I’m blind to the fact that there are going to be challenges? You’re not fucked up. The situation is fucked up, and it's affecting you, yeah. Okay, I get it. But…Isadoro, you incredible dumbass, I don’t want to go out dancing with you. I want to dance here, in our kitchen. I want to…hold your hand and I want you with me. Do you understand? Wherever you are, a part of you should be with me.”
