Page 9 of A Virgo's Muse
“I know enough.”
“Oh, yeah?” Her voice wavered between guarded and curious. “What do you think you know?”
I held up my fingers, ticking each one off. “You hate mess, but you live in organized chaos. You pretend to be indifferent, but your eyes give you away every time. You’re private, but your paintings scream what your mouth won’t say. You love hard, even if you won’t admit it. And you haven’t had the chance to be soft in so long that you don’t even remember what it feels like.”
She stood there frozen, lips slightly parted, like she couldn’t breathe for a second. I leaned in, not to kiss her, but just to be close. To let her feel me, my calm, my conviction, the way I wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’m not here to make you weak,” I said against her temple. “I’m here to remind you that you’re allowed to rest. You’re allowed to be held. You’re allowed to be poured into.”
Her hand drifted up slowly and hesitantly until her fingers lightly grazed the sculpture again.
“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly.
“So are you.”
She looked up at me sharply, like I’d said something outrageous. Like she wanted to reject it but couldn’t, not when her body was leaning toward mine the way it was.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered. “Whatever this is.”
“You don’t have to. Just let me show you.”
Her eyes stayed on mine a little longer than before. Then she pulled away, not in rejection, but like she needed air. I had gotten too close, and she didn’t know what to do with that.
She moved toward the corner and grabbed a towel to clean up the paint water. I bent down and grabbed a broom before she could. We cleaned side by side in silence until the mess was gone and the studio felt lighter.
When we were done, she stood, leaning against the table with her arms crossed. She was not defensive this time, just unsure.
“You came all the way here just to give me that?” she asked.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I came to give you something. The sculpture was just part of it.”
“And the rest?”
I stepped to her again, not touching her but close enough for her to feel how serious I was.
“The rest is me showing up. Not vanishing. Not being a ghost. Just being here… if you’ll let me.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She was trying to protect herself. I saw it. I felt it, but I wasn’t here to bulldoze her walls. I was here to knock, wait, and be let in when she was ready.
So, I nodded toward the sculpture then toward her heart.
“I see you, Desire,” I said softly. “And you don’t have to do everything alone anymore.”
And this time, when I turned to leave, she didn’t stop me. But she didn’t close the door behind me either. And something told me that was her way of saying…come back.
“You’re lookingat me like that again,” I said, not even glancing up from the glass of wine I swirled between my fingers.
Sade plopped down beside me on the couch, her knee brushing mine. “Because you’re doing that thing again, Des.”
I sighed. “What thing?”
She gave me that look, the one that cut through all my walls like butter.
“That Virgo thing where you convince yourself something real isn’t real because your brain won’t shut up long enough for your heart to feel it.”
I groaned, letting my head fall back against the couch cushion. “It’s not that simple, Sade.”
She tilted her head, her curls bouncing against her cheek. “Then explain it to me. Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like a man walked into your life, saw you, like really saw you, and instead of letting that unfold, you’re spiraling into your ‘what ifs’ like you always do.”
