Playing Doctor

Initial Visit?

Tuesday, April 11

I Wish I Was the Moon

You’re in your car in front of the Firefighter’s apartment and looking out at the river as he’s talking, but you’re not really listening. You’re trying to figure out if you can kiss him. You weigh the everything, how he answered the door in his underwear, the invite to dinner, the confession. When I say you weigh everything, I mean you consider all the data that supports the decision you’ve already made and ignore all the signs he’s actively giving you that he does not want you to kiss him. His hand is resting on his knee, so you put your hand on his.

‘When you broke up with me,’ you say, ‘what made it so difficult for me was that you did it because you couldn’t continue to lie to your friends and family. Your integrity was at stake. Your integrity and belief in a definable, knowable truth are part of what I loved about you. It put me in the precarious position of loving you more for having the integrity to break up with me.’

You lean your head out the window and look up at the moon. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t remove his hand from yours.

‘But that was countered,’ you say, ‘with my suspicion that you were turning your back on a larger truth. You could stop seeing me, but that wouldn’t change that you wanted to. If that were true, you’d still be lying to your family and, more importantly, yourself. But arguing that you loved me was too self-serving a position for me to make. Even though I had tangible evidence that it was true: My shirt was soaked with your tears when I left your apartment that night… Unless they were crocodile.’

‘They weren’t,’ he says.

And that’s all you need. You reach across his neck and pull his face into yours and kiss his cheek. Your right and his left hand continue to rest on his knee, but he uses his right hand to half-hug you. You move your mouth to his lips. He kisses you back, briefly, before his right arm changes from a hug to a lever to separate you.

He gets out of the car, saying ‘I’ll call you’ before half-slamming the door shut and walking up the lawn into his apartment.

In the still of the night, on the empty street, you look up at the moon. You look out on the river.

You close your eyes and fight off the nausea.


Blogger elizabeth writes:

Hello again, Eric. Remember me? (It's been a while since I posted but I have been reading) I hope that you are careful with your heart.


Anonymous Anonymous writes:

I'll second that. Sounds like you are a glutten for punishment.


Anonymous Anonymous writes:

JUST GET ON WITH IT! This fairy story is taking so long to get to some sort of a conclusion.


Blogger dan writes:

Don't worry, I hear the ending has a car chase, an explosion or two, and some fairly sophisticated stunt work. It will all have been worth it. Trust me.


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