Hooded Eyes

I notice that he slouches sometimes. He only does it when he's nervous, and I don't believe he is aware of this tell. Normally, he stands tall and proud, though never in a domineering way. Rather, he has the posture of a man who is proud of what they've accomplished. Though his resume is impressive, he remains endlessly kind and effortlessly humble. 

He is the only man I have ever gushed over, and it surprises me that I can gush. I was the eternal man-hater, the one who insisted I would proudly be single forever. I was independent to a fault and loudly not looking.

When fate brought him to me, I knew in an instant that despite all my efforts, I was in love. I had called my best friend in a desperation that was equal parts 'What the fuck?' and 'Why is this happening?' When she was done laughing, I asked her what I was supposed to do now.

"Follow your heart!"

"But I didn't think I had one!"

That earned more laughs. 

Eventually, I discovered that I not only had a heart, but it now belonged entirely to this man. In time, we admitted our feelings and began a romance that I couldn't believe was happening. And in time, I found his heart belonged entirely to me.

As our dates turned into weekend getaways and our apartments turned into one condo, we became an inseparable pair of laughing, perpetually happy people who felt more fairy tale character than human.

When he puts his phone down, I leave my reminiscing and walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist. This earns me a big smile and a warm bear hug.

"Everything okay, love?"

He leans back with a smile. 

"Oh, everything's fine. I just saw that the Bruins might trade their backup goalie to the Sharks. I feel bad, he's a local kid who's newly wed, and I can't imagine the change from east coast to west coast will be too easy on them."

I grin up at him, peering into large hooded eyes as he subconsciously straightens up. I love that he thinks of these things, that he cares so deeply that his feelings extend to strangers. 

He brushes my red hair off my shoulders and rests his hands in its place. I slide my hands to his collarbones and beckon him for a kiss, which he happily obliges. I stand on tiptoe and wrap my hands around his neck as he tightly embraces me, lifting me off the floor. 

As my feet find the tile again, I giggle. He kisses the top of my head and asks what I want for dinner.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

CAEB

I looked at my Fitbit. It was 1:00. Fredrick would sleep until about 2:30. We would leave to pick up Francis from preschool at 2:45. I had time to start another load of laundry. I should probably add Fredricks' clothes in as well; he went through onesies like crazy. I gazed down the foyer, then up the tan carpeted stairs. I wanted to pass out from exhaustion just thinking about climbing up to the second floor and making my way into the baby's room. I sighed but started walking. I paused at the foot of the staircase. I felt my eyes closing as I began to dredge myself up. I was using the railing excessively, but that only made my arms as tired as my legs and the rest of my body.  When I finally reached the top, I wanted to cry. Something was very wrong. I'd been exhausted before, but not like this. I looked down the hallway. There was no way I could make it to Fredricks' room to collect his laundry, and I certainly couldn't make the journey back down the stairs.   Sen
Read more

Another One

*An excerpt from my memoir* My mom decided to go back to work when I was about nine. By this time, I was four years deep in my panic attacks and anxiety, issues that would only be dealt with when I was in my early twenties and on my own. Naturally, this big change in my life left me feeling sheer terror. I had only recently transferred to my current school and most of the kids thought I was weird.  I had a couple of friends, but none that lived nearby, so it was doubtful they'd be on my bus route.  Would I get picked on and teased more, being a bus kid? What if I had one of those...'things?' (I wouldn't learn the words 'panic attack' for years.) While having one of those 'things' I remember going to mom, heart pounding, "Who'll take care of me?" I blurted out.  "How will I get to school?" She chose to ignore the first question and snapped, "The bus! How else?" My heart was beating like a bass drum, it was surely going to
Read more

It Doesn't Pay to be Polite

Years ago, I bought two tickets for my Dad and I to see his first Broadway play. It was non-musical and history based, right up his ally.  After exploring New York City all day, we lined up at the small theaters side entrance. I was so excited! I mean, how could you not be, it's Broadway!  As we waited in line, I told my Dad that we should silence and put away our phones, and stash our sunglasses, I have always been a stickler for proper theater etiquette. I put my regular glasses on, then placed my silenced phone and sunglasses into my tiny purse and zipped it up. My Dad and I started to chat.  Seconds later, a yellow taxi pulled up and a tall man with a shoulder bag and sunglasses jumped out of the backseat, yelling his thanks as he closed the cab door and rushed onto the sidewalk.  My mouth sprang open, my lower jaw dangerously close to hitting the pavement.  The man dashed over to the theater door, accidentally bumped into my left shoulder, tilted his head in apology and sincer
Read more