It was a mistake.
We had just finished the Fromage d’Affinois, a French triple brie with bread and pear compote.
I sighed and said, “I wanna go to Paris.”
_ – _ – _ – _ – _ – _ – _ – _
- _ – _ – _ – _ – _ – _ – _ -
Later, we’re sitting on a bench on Goodwill Bridge. It’s getting cooler, a more agreeable temperature. Strangers walk past, but I could almost believe that we’re the only two that this view belonged to. It no longer stops some in their paths anymore, but I’ve only been privy to this view once prior to this. This time, I’m with someone I love. And it makes all the difference. My forehead against his neck, the occasional kiss on my forehead, my eyebrows, his cheek and then our lips. All while we hold onto each other’s hands. It’s like The Beatles song whenever he isn’t around so I’m ending the drought, this absence of his fingers intertwined with mine.
Then he said, “Come with me to Paris.”
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What do you do when you know you can’t? It doesn’t matter what it is; you just can’t. And you’re worried it’s hurtful, when it hurts you even more to say ‘no’. This is what I want, but I can’t. This is whom I love, but I can’t. This is me, and this is all I can be for now. Won’t you just pretend I didn’t say anything, and fall asleep just with the thought that I love you? I will daydream about you and me in another city, but the reality is it isn’t now. Not tomorrow. Not yet. There’s a desire, a want, a need to see it materialise, but I can’t just yet. I’m so, so sorry, sweetie. Soon, there will be a time when wheredoyougowhatdoyoudocanifollowyou but right now, just pass time with me, hold me as we stand at your balcony with the the city night-lights, and kiss me some more in the corner of that bar as you nurse an incandescent orange and a drink that has been set on fire for me.
That day will come soon enough.
