“Let me make you go down in history, baby
Let write you into history, darling
Let me sing you into eternity
So you say you just wanna be remembered”
Feels like I’m about to write a novel. Bestseller or not?
I have permission to share this experience...
I guess parts of him are just angry; hurt; maybe broken.
He tried everything different this time around. He tried to make up for every mistake. He tried to cross his t’s and dot his i’s – but somehow that still wasn’t enough.
He remembers those last few days that he spent with her: the early afternoons watching DVDs on her mother’s couch – I mean, who still watches DVDs? – the late afternoons hugging her on the back porch while the dogs stared; all just to leave her with a kiss on the forehead, because he wanted to preserve her.
So often he’d hear guys say that they wanted this- or that-type of girl. They’d want them pure and untainted and good, but when given the opportunity to “keep” girls that way, they’d use the opportunity to make them the very things that they didn’t want. Strange.
Anyway…
He can still remember her curl patterns. He’d finger combed her hair so much he could probably find his way around her scalp with his eyes closed...Lol. One afternoon, it would be her turn to lie resting on his stomach as he sat slouched on Mom’s couch. On another afternoon, he’d lie on her lap; holding her tight like a child afraid of being separated from their mother in an amusement park crowd.
She was the safest place.
“Should I kiss her?” was a question he’d often asked himself. They locked eyes so often. With her face merely inches away from his, all he’d do is press his forehead against hers. I guess he was subtly trying to tell her that he wanted to discover her mentally before he discovered her physically.
There was an afternoon that she was wearing a pretty fitted dress when he came over to see her. It kept riding up as most fitted dresses do. When he realized what was happening, he grabbed a cushion off the couch and dropped it on her butt. Again, maybe another subtle gesture to show her that he wasn’t interested in pursuing her in that manner. He just wanted her present. Her presence.
But those goodbye hugs, though.
How her face would fall perfectly into his chest. How her hair would smell. Short ass. He could eat soup off of her head…Lol. He could feel that she’d never want to let him leave. She’d always try to get him to stay a little longer.
On what was probably the last afternoon he spent with her, he left his phone behind – my guy never leaves his phone anywhere – I guess when you’re in the presence of someone that makes you feel as though nothing else matters, as though nothing in the world could be wrong, walking off and leaving your phone behind just becomes a thing. I guess.
Oh that perfect symmetry! The very thing that brings you absolute joy, bringing you absolute pain – oh that perfect symmetry.
… I may or may not continue this.
*Siri, Play Remember by Seinabo Sey*
