Page 137 of Falling Backwards
But of course I don’t ask.I just say, “Anyway, be a bartender forever or don’t.You’re gonna be great no matter what.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs again.
“Mmhmm.”After a breath: “Now it’s your turn to ask a question.”
He heaves a big sigh.“All right.Let’s see.”His tone is a bit more normal now.
It’d be a lie to say I’m not a little nervous about what he’ll ask.Will it be something precarious?Something that digs deeper than we’re supposed to allow?
Would I really hate it if itweresomething like that?part of me counters.Would it really be such a bad thing?
“What are some other songs you like?I need more to listen to.”
My nervousness calms.
…But truth be told, my curiosity about off-limits topics doesn’t dim.It just kind of slips away towards a corner of my mind.
At least it’s backing off, though.
I replay Luke’s question and smile.Songs are something I’m happy to think about.
—
I drift awake in the morning with two things oddly firm in my still-drowsy mind.
One is the feather-soft dream I’ve just left about adult me and Luke walking hand-in-hand to the Water Rocks, sunlight dappling us and the ground through the tree branches overhead, a feeling of happy security filling my chest.
The other is a response I didn’t give to a certain thing he said last night during our call.
I shift around in the real-life sunlight coming through my window, find my phone, and open our messages so I can follow my deep urge to say this to him now.
ME:You ARE impressive, you know.That’s always been true in one way or another.It’s impressive how exasperating you manage to be sometimes and how mad you manage to make me—any tendency I have to be quiet and controlled goes away when I’m around you.It’s impressive that the way you look has changed over the years yet you’re still 10/10 to me too.And it’s impressive how you can be cool and casual like you don’t have a care in the world, but then you can turn around and rush to return a customer’s dropped credit card, or keep a craft a grateful little kid made for you, or be embarrassed about a messy kitchen that isn’t even very messy, or come up with a list of the people you wanna help have better lives, or put your own life on pause so you can help me with a problem even though I’m…well, me
Typing this out has me feeling so many different things.Happy and proud things, heavy things, appreciative things.
I send the message and compose one more:
You said, “If you really look at me, I’m not very impressive.”But I think you’re the one who hasn’t really been looking
I read it over, my chest seeming fuller and fuller by the second.Then I send it, too, and put my phone down so I can get out of bed.
It occurs to me that I probably could’ve waited and said that stuff in person; we’re seeing each other in a little while so we can go for another walk.But I’m glad I didn’t wait, glad he can start his day with those words.
Once I’m on my feet, I stretch my arms over my head and hum long at how good it feels…and as cool air caresses my midsection where my shirt has gone up, my thoughts go back to how mouthwatering Luke was without his shirt on.
And to my spontaneously bold hand being tucked into work-Luke’s pocket.
And to car-Luke’s thumb tracing my scarred eyebrow.
And to my-kitchen-Luke letting me tend to his scraped palms and knee.
And to yesterday-Luke’s arm encircling me with ease on our nighttime walk to his car after Lucent closed.
I trade stretching for hugging myself.Even though I still feel too soft to me, I can’t help imagining my stomach and waist and hips feeling exactly right being touched by him.And as if that doesn’t stir me in all kinds of ways, I can also still feel him in those other ways once again, like he’s been imprinted on me.
Nor can I help remembering a younger Luke and a younger me hugging each other with shyness, with laughter, with reluctance to let go and,‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’between us.
Which means my lips can’t help remembering—can’t helpreliving—us sharing sweet kisses at the Water Rocks, pressing ones at the movie theater, happy ones at school when we managed to steal a moment between classes.
