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Actually, what I want is her. Don’t know how to actualise that anymore though.
Parks
22:27
What are you doing?
Come back.
No.
I get out of bed, knock on the bathroom door.
“Go away.”
She’s making me work for it. Fair enough at this point, I suppose.
“Naked?” I call through the door.
“No.” She sounds annoyed.
I open the door. She’s curled up in the bath, trying to make it a bed.
It takes all my self-control not to laugh at her.
“Come back to the room.” I nod towards it.
“No,” she says, defiant and avoiding my eyes.
“Just get in the bed.”
“No.” She crosses her arms.
“Magnolia,” I growl. “Get in the fucking bed.”
“Leave me alone.” She rolls over in the tub.
I breath out loud and annoyed, and then I walk over to the tub and stare down at her in the bath. She looks up at me, scowling a bit.
And then I reach down and scoop her up and her eyes go to full Bambi. Thank god.
I love her in my arms, how she folds up into them, how she fits. My body grew up carrying her; she slots into the grooves of me, how many people can you say that about? No one but her and still I don’t know how to tell her I love her back. What if she changes her mind? What if she fucks off again?
She said last time that she was in and that that was it and she still left me anyway — her word’s no good now.
She goes a bit limp in my arms and I wonder how it is that I’ve carried her twice in the last few weeks and I’ve never carried my girlfriend once.
I lay Parks down on her side of the bed, walk around to my side. She’s staring straight up at the ceiling, stiff as a board. She’s all clamped up, nervous.
I stare at her because I can’t help it. More beautiful than I know what to do with.
She doesn’t look at me but she knows I’m watching her, her eyes fluttering like a butterfly with no place to land.
I shift my body, rolling in to face her. She stops breathing for a couple of beats. Slow like a tide, she rolls over to face me.
Swallows nervous, eyes big.
Gives me a rush that I still make her go like this.
