Sunday, May 1

27. (They.)

1. She's sitting pretty as usual and while I can appreciate this, I no longer wonder what might have been, what could have happened, or what it might have been like. I no longer have a need. She tells me she's nervous, and I do my inexperienced best to tell her it's going to be okay. She should be confident. She's an intelligent woman. I want to tell her that she's a talented writer, but I don't know that because, while I have endless respect for this friend of mine, I have never read anything she's written. No matter what the results of the source of her worry, I would like to change that before the end of the summer.


2. Sitting on the other side of a huge crab dinner, relating a story that I already know to our third. His former shame, his fall, his failure that he looks back on with sadness but confidence that it won't happen again. I understand how he feels, yet I am unable to truly relate. I've been in a similar situation, but not exactly so. I feel awkward, because the third relates far better than I, though I have known the teller far longer than he has. It isn't jealousy on my part, just... Uncertainty. He is one of my best friends and I love him, but while I respect his beliefs I want to grab him and shake him and tell him what he's saying is ridiculous. Thankfully he is one of the good kind. He hasn't forced it on me, and won't.


3. His car is a prettier shape than mine, but I don't envy the color. Forest-green is a hue that should be reserved for living things. His arrogance so far today has slapped me time and again, but he's my brother and I love him, even if he can be a jackass to the people who care the most for him. If he weren't so stubborn, everyone would get along better; but that's not the case, and as such even his girl complains to me that he's got something up his ass. I sometimes wish that so many people didn't turn to me with information like this, especially people in my family. Maybe I should try to stop being so neutral, but I don't think that that would work out, as it's somewhat against my nature.

4. The one, the big one, saved for last because she's the most important. I have to reach back farther for this one. She's pressed and warm against my chest, my arms around her waist, and we watch the television. We laugh and make jokes and I am, suddenly, without doubt. In a matter of months this arrangement won't be temporary anymore. We'll lay around and watch TV whenever we want, instead of this limited time-span. A week is far too short for everything I want to give her. Thankfully, I've given her the rest of my life.