Another place, another lifetime," he says. And I echo his sentiment, although doing so seers my heart and my soul every time I hear those words and repeat them. Why I keep repeating them, I don't know, when what I really want to do is scream in frustration.
I'll keep those words in my head and heart for a long time. I know it's probably for the best, this denying ourselves and our love--well, we deny fulfilling it and the other needs and desires it brings, for we don't really deny that we are in love with one another. But we deny fulfilling our love because we don't want to hurt others, so we simply rip our own hearts apart. Oh, would it have been better to have never found one another and to have loved one another.
Friday, I walked up onto G's enclosed back porch and stood admiring the tall spruce she and the family had decorated. The brilliant white lights twinkled against the dark, and the star sitting jauntily atop the tree gleamed and seemed to wink at me. The warmth of the hope that the tree shone with enveloped me, and I felt like getting lost in that feeling for a moment. I felt like hope could be mine if I could just reach out and grab the warmth of it.
G and family were not home, but I wasn't here to see them. I was here in the sanctuary of her porch that she offered to me and D.
I turned as I heard the fall of his steps on the sidewalk. Right on time. He always prides himself on being punctual; he has for as long as I have known him. His brown eyes caught mine as he climbed the steps to the porch. I love the crinkles around them and the light that shines within them. I love the other things that flare within his eyes---passion, desire, need, want.
But these things, I will never know of, not in one sense, for we won't allow ourselves that. How long we can keep denying ourselves these things, I don't know. I will probably walk away from the greatest friendship and the greatest love I have ever known, eventually.
I shook those thoughts from my head; I do every time I talk to him, every time I see him, for I won't let them impede on the joy of the moment for long.
We sat quietly on the wicker furniture and talked about our day and the coming holiday. We spoke of plans for holiday parties, for time with family and friends. But then we just sat quietly, my head leaning against his shoulder, staring into the light of the tree.
The time together was too short. And we rose to part. His fingers entwined with mine for a moment, and then just our fingertips brushed, for this is the most we will allow ourselves. My arms ached to hug him, to wrap around him, but this control that we hold to so fiercely would crack if either of us did that. (We haven't hugged one another since we revealed the true nature of our feelings last week, and I miss hugging him, as we did when we were merely friends denying the true nature of what we felt.) I started to turn to leave, when his hand on my shoulder stopped me and turned me to him.
Damn him. I didn't want him to see the tears brimming in my eyes. And, of course, one slid a sparkling trail down my cheek. His breath came sharply at that sight, and his hand rose; I knew it was involuntary. A thumb brushed another tear as it began to follow the trail of the first; he caught it as his thumb skimmed along my cheek and then down, and across my lower lip.
"I love you, J," came his hoarse whisper through the night air.
"I love you too, D.; completely, madly, fully," I whispered, my voice hitching on a sob, for I knew the words that would follow, and we spoke them together: "Another place, another lifetime...somehow we missed each other by 15 years."
My fingers brushed along the back of his hand; his fingers stilled on my cheek; we were allowing ourselves an additional moment of tenderness, something we haven't done since we revealed our hearts.
I fought for breath and, silently, I turned and walked away, cutting through the darkness and to my car so I could travel the 5 miles to the life I have chosen to keep. But my heart, God help me, my heart lies with him.



