I laid on my stomach and tried to wish the morning away...
She laid on top of me... kissing my neck... my shoulder... my ear...
I ignored her... I thought of Veronica... Carmen... Diana... this moment just keeps repeating itself... the women are different every time... but it keeps coming back to me... or I keep running to it... either way... this moment is where I find myself in this morning... she says she is in love... I ignore her and try to wish the morning away...
She whispered her plans for the day in my ear but I started to think about an autocross race I was once co-pilot for... It was in 1997 - I think... and David - who was driving almost flipped the car on a curve... I remember wishing at the time that he had flipped it, and that the car would catch fire and we would go up in flames before anyone could get us out... oh the cars I have flipped over... and I am still here... the cars that have caught fire and still, I linger... all those accidents and near misses and I still walk among the un-dead... I do not drive too often... not too often in these many years since I called the Plymouth my home... but... sometimes... just sometimes... I want to drive off a cliff... but I know I would survive... why this was going through my mind as she spoke gently into my ear... I do not know... I haven’t seen David in so many years... who knows what became of him...
She gets off me and leaves the room... I closed my eyes for an instant and dreamed of Veronica... riding in taxis and buses and rented cars with Veronica... the way she would look at the world through the windshield or out her window as we blazed down the city streets or down a country road... I would watch her even as she stared out the windows of a bus... she looked at the world... at the city she knew so very well, as if she had just arrived... it was all new and marvelous for her... every time... I believe... she would have been happy if she could have stayed in a moving vehicle forever... looking out the window as the world passed her by.... I never asked her how she felt or what she was thinking as we traveled through time in our gas powered machines... But I knew she was thrilled and happy and content all at once... I would often borrow Frankie’s car at night and take her for long rides around Asuncion.. ‘round parks and new neighborhoods... driving in circles with no place to go and let her look up at the lights that filled the streets with Christmas... with magic... with some kind of awe that I will never be able to experience or understand the way Veronica knew it... and I long for it... or at the very least... one more ride in a moving vehicle with her...
I rolled on to my back and open my eyes... I was confused for a bit... the way you are when you first wake up from a long sleep in a new room... but this was my room... my room...
Valentina stood at the edge of the bed folding my freshly laundered t-shirts and shorts... and socks... I rose up on one shoulder to watch her...
“Was I sleeping...”
She smiles at me and I watch her fold my shirts... she folds them delicately and precise... and carefully calculated like a mathematically complicated geometric design... and after every fold she runs her hand over it to flatten out the fabric... she stacks my shirts on top of each-other and lays them side by side in rows arranged by color... watching her do this inspires something in me... and I speak...
“Let’s stay in today... we’ll cook and eat and... drink... and make love...”
She smiles at me...
I continue...
“we’ll get some movies and lounge around...”
It was on the third time she had visited my home that Valentina did my laundry... I didn’t stop her... and I let her cook for me and clean for me... and she irons too... I had to fight with her not to iron my dungarees or t-shirts... I never have, and don’t want her to do so - I always felt it was stupid and a bit gay for a man to iron his blue jeans and t-shirts... they were made for working and roughing it any way... not to impress anyone...
I wait for her reply...
She picks up my clothes and puts my socks in my sock drawer the way I like them organized - by color and fabric... and my shorts in their drawer... she walks to the closet and puts my denim in their shelves and my tees in their... she turns to the bed and crawls back in...
She cuddles up to me and buries herself into the bed with me... draped in my arms and secure in my chest... she lets out a soft sigh and begins talking about what movies we should get and what she will make us for dinner... I stare at the ceiling and ignore her...
She laid on top of me... kissing my neck... my shoulder... my ear...
I ignored her... I thought of Veronica... Carmen... Diana... this moment just keeps repeating itself... the women are different every time... but it keeps coming back to me... or I keep running to it... either way... this moment is where I find myself in this morning... she says she is in love... I ignore her and try to wish the morning away...
She whispered her plans for the day in my ear but I started to think about an autocross race I was once co-pilot for... It was in 1997 - I think... and David - who was driving almost flipped the car on a curve... I remember wishing at the time that he had flipped it, and that the car would catch fire and we would go up in flames before anyone could get us out... oh the cars I have flipped over... and I am still here... the cars that have caught fire and still, I linger... all those accidents and near misses and I still walk among the un-dead... I do not drive too often... not too often in these many years since I called the Plymouth my home... but... sometimes... just sometimes... I want to drive off a cliff... but I know I would survive... why this was going through my mind as she spoke gently into my ear... I do not know... I haven’t seen David in so many years... who knows what became of him...
She gets off me and leaves the room... I closed my eyes for an instant and dreamed of Veronica... riding in taxis and buses and rented cars with Veronica... the way she would look at the world through the windshield or out her window as we blazed down the city streets or down a country road... I would watch her even as she stared out the windows of a bus... she looked at the world... at the city she knew so very well, as if she had just arrived... it was all new and marvelous for her... every time... I believe... she would have been happy if she could have stayed in a moving vehicle forever... looking out the window as the world passed her by.... I never asked her how she felt or what she was thinking as we traveled through time in our gas powered machines... But I knew she was thrilled and happy and content all at once... I would often borrow Frankie’s car at night and take her for long rides around Asuncion.. ‘round parks and new neighborhoods... driving in circles with no place to go and let her look up at the lights that filled the streets with Christmas... with magic... with some kind of awe that I will never be able to experience or understand the way Veronica knew it... and I long for it... or at the very least... one more ride in a moving vehicle with her...
I rolled on to my back and open my eyes... I was confused for a bit... the way you are when you first wake up from a long sleep in a new room... but this was my room... my room...
Valentina stood at the edge of the bed folding my freshly laundered t-shirts and shorts... and socks... I rose up on one shoulder to watch her...
“Was I sleeping...”
She smiles at me and I watch her fold my shirts... she folds them delicately and precise... and carefully calculated like a mathematically complicated geometric design... and after every fold she runs her hand over it to flatten out the fabric... she stacks my shirts on top of each-other and lays them side by side in rows arranged by color... watching her do this inspires something in me... and I speak...
“Let’s stay in today... we’ll cook and eat and... drink... and make love...”
She smiles at me...
I continue...
“we’ll get some movies and lounge around...”
It was on the third time she had visited my home that Valentina did my laundry... I didn’t stop her... and I let her cook for me and clean for me... and she irons too... I had to fight with her not to iron my dungarees or t-shirts... I never have, and don’t want her to do so - I always felt it was stupid and a bit gay for a man to iron his blue jeans and t-shirts... they were made for working and roughing it any way... not to impress anyone...
I wait for her reply...
She picks up my clothes and puts my socks in my sock drawer the way I like them organized - by color and fabric... and my shorts in their drawer... she walks to the closet and puts my denim in their shelves and my tees in their... she turns to the bed and crawls back in...
She cuddles up to me and buries herself into the bed with me... draped in my arms and secure in my chest... she lets out a soft sigh and begins talking about what movies we should get and what she will make us for dinner... I stare at the ceiling and ignore her...
and try to wish the morning away...
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1 comment:
You ignore her. She does your laundry and you ignore her. She cooks and you ignore her. Good grief. Go home, woman!!
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