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Last night, coming home from Len's and buoyed up by his loving, I decided to go and get things over with Keith. He plays pool Wednesday nights and his van was there at Pasquali's, so, taking a deep breath, I parked, scurried across the frozen parking lot and pushed open the door.
I'd written to him a week ago. I won't post the whole letter, but here's the crux of it:
"So, I need to hear from you. Either *leave me alone*, or *let's have coffee*, or even, *just keep writing for now*. In my experience of you, you are a very kind and gentle man. In this case, it will not help to sugar-coat your message. You are going to have to trust me when I say that complete candidness will be best. I will be wistful if the message is *please leave me alone*, but I'm a pretty canny and strong woman, and I will be fine."
He was sitting at a table facing the door, and saw me right away as I came in. I hesitated a minute, gauging his expression. A little smile came across his face. "Hi Lisa," he said. I smiled and nodded to him. There was a group of guys at his table, talking, and I made my way up to the bar and got a Killians.
He once told me that, if someone wanted the unvarnished truth from him, they should ask him their question after he'd had three beers. There was an empty seat next to him, it was one of those bar-height tables, so I flung myself up into the seat and sipped my beer. With the bottle, I motioned to the bottle in front of him. "Had three beers yet?"
He put his fingertip on the rim and tipped the bottle slightly, "Actually, I've had six."
"Oh," I said. "Good." He was quiet, just looking at me questioningly. I raised my eyebrows back at him.
"I've read your letters," he said, "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at writing back."
"Ah," I breathed, and took another sip of beer. I waited. He just smiled and waited back. "Are you gonna make me hyperventilate?" I finally asked.
"Would you hyperventilate?" he returned, with such a boyish look of genuine curiosity that I had to laugh.
"I might!" My laugh comes from my gut, and it sounded out across the bar. He smiled, and I shook my head helplessly and sucked in a breath.
"There's always a pot of coffee on at my house," he said with a chuckle. "Come over any time."
The breath I'd been holding came out in a rush. "Oh...ah, good. That's good."
"And if you want," he added, "you can keep writing, too."
Then we talked for about an hour, our sentences overlapping, hands flying in the air: global warming, the proposed moon base, the crazy astronaut, brain chemistry, on and on until my beer was done and I was yawning and thinking about having to get up at seven a.m. the next morning.
I don't know how this is going to go. A friendship, but a very close one, I think. It will be very hard for me to walk that line.
Edit:
I had two dreams this morning, right before waking. In the first dream, I was with someone in some sort of zoo or "animal place", and we were watching frogs mate. Now, I don't know if frogs mate like fish, but in this dream they did. There were eggs in the water, and then a cloud of sperm. Then I did something, moved my hand in the water, and the eggs and sperm mixed. I could see the eggs fertilize, like watching a precipitate form in a test tube, and then little mini-frogs started to grow. They didn't look like tadpoles, but like little unfinished frogs, so I scooped up some soft mud from the edge of the water and gently burried them, "so they can finish growing." -- I pretty sure this dream comes from having sex with Len last night and wondering idly what day of my cycle I'm on.
In the second dream, I was with Mike, and we were somewhere, looking out a big window. It was very pretty. He was standing behind me with his arms around me and his chin resting on top of my head. I was leaning into him, feeling very loved and warm. I turned my head to kiss him on the cheek, and he was Keith.
This seems straight forward at first glance, but I was thinking about it, as I was waking up, does it mean my subconscious thinks that Keith is like Mike, or if it's playing with the idea that I could have a realtionship with Keith that is like my and Mike's relationship?
I'd written to him a week ago. I won't post the whole letter, but here's the crux of it:
"So, I need to hear from you. Either *leave me alone*, or *let's have coffee*, or even, *just keep writing for now*. In my experience of you, you are a very kind and gentle man. In this case, it will not help to sugar-coat your message. You are going to have to trust me when I say that complete candidness will be best. I will be wistful if the message is *please leave me alone*, but I'm a pretty canny and strong woman, and I will be fine."
He was sitting at a table facing the door, and saw me right away as I came in. I hesitated a minute, gauging his expression. A little smile came across his face. "Hi Lisa," he said. I smiled and nodded to him. There was a group of guys at his table, talking, and I made my way up to the bar and got a Killians.
He once told me that, if someone wanted the unvarnished truth from him, they should ask him their question after he'd had three beers. There was an empty seat next to him, it was one of those bar-height tables, so I flung myself up into the seat and sipped my beer. With the bottle, I motioned to the bottle in front of him. "Had three beers yet?"
He put his fingertip on the rim and tipped the bottle slightly, "Actually, I've had six."
"Oh," I said. "Good." He was quiet, just looking at me questioningly. I raised my eyebrows back at him.
"I've read your letters," he said, "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at writing back."
"Ah," I breathed, and took another sip of beer. I waited. He just smiled and waited back. "Are you gonna make me hyperventilate?" I finally asked.
"Would you hyperventilate?" he returned, with such a boyish look of genuine curiosity that I had to laugh.
"I might!" My laugh comes from my gut, and it sounded out across the bar. He smiled, and I shook my head helplessly and sucked in a breath.
"There's always a pot of coffee on at my house," he said with a chuckle. "Come over any time."
The breath I'd been holding came out in a rush. "Oh...ah, good. That's good."
"And if you want," he added, "you can keep writing, too."
Then we talked for about an hour, our sentences overlapping, hands flying in the air: global warming, the proposed moon base, the crazy astronaut, brain chemistry, on and on until my beer was done and I was yawning and thinking about having to get up at seven a.m. the next morning.
I don't know how this is going to go. A friendship, but a very close one, I think. It will be very hard for me to walk that line.
Edit:
I had two dreams this morning, right before waking. In the first dream, I was with someone in some sort of zoo or "animal place", and we were watching frogs mate. Now, I don't know if frogs mate like fish, but in this dream they did. There were eggs in the water, and then a cloud of sperm. Then I did something, moved my hand in the water, and the eggs and sperm mixed. I could see the eggs fertilize, like watching a precipitate form in a test tube, and then little mini-frogs started to grow. They didn't look like tadpoles, but like little unfinished frogs, so I scooped up some soft mud from the edge of the water and gently burried them, "so they can finish growing." -- I pretty sure this dream comes from having sex with Len last night and wondering idly what day of my cycle I'm on.
In the second dream, I was with Mike, and we were somewhere, looking out a big window. It was very pretty. He was standing behind me with his arms around me and his chin resting on top of my head. I was leaning into him, feeling very loved and warm. I turned my head to kiss him on the cheek, and he was Keith.
This seems straight forward at first glance, but I was thinking about it, as I was waking up, does it mean my subconscious thinks that Keith is like Mike, or if it's playing with the idea that I could have a realtionship with Keith that is like my and Mike's relationship?