7.31.2015 Journal Prompt

2015-07-31 07.54.28July 31, 2015: She called him Baby.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “7.31.2015 Journal Prompt

  1. I don’t get it. How there cain be rules and laws for such things and the laws all speaking different ‘cording to the place you is. I say that to him. I say there cain’t be laws for love. And Coen says he agrees and he calls me sugar and he kisses me and like that everything is ok.

    Only, we’s at the station and we’s waiting on a train to take us back. And we stands close together like lovers, like I seen lovers doing in a movie. And my body pressed ‘gainst his, like palm to palm in prayer, that close, and we don’t feel no shame in that. And we don’t care none who sees. And we keep kissing and we lose count of how many. But that’s ’cause we’re here and not there.

    Momma says there’s got to be rules and she says the law is there to protect us and such as us. And momma thinks we is just children still and she forgets what it was like when she and pa was this age. Pa ‘grees with momma and he says ‘damn right’ and he says he’ll shoot the doodah off any boy as looks at me that way. He can’t even say the words, not in front of me. And he’s mad as a shook box of bees just at the thought.

    And they like Coen. They say as much and they make a fuss over him when he calls. He’s clean and polite and he shows all kinds of manners and they think he has all kinds of respect – for them and for me, which he does; as much respect as love allows, and he loves me. And pa spoke to him once, ’bout men-stuff but Coen didn’t really unnerstand what pa was saying – ‘cept he unnerstood ’bout the shooting of doodahs.

    That’s why me and Coen we come here, ‘cross the state line, to a place we can be in love and nobody’ll look at us as if we done wrong. And there’s a motel here where they check his driving licence and mine and they nod and it’s all ok and they wish us both to ‘have a nice day now’, even though they know ‘nice’ aint what we’s there for.

    And now we’s at the station and waiting on a train to take us back, and I ask Coen how it’d be if we wasn’t ever to go back. I ask how it’d be if we just stayed this side of the line where we cain be what we is and not have to worry ’bout his doodah. He laughs and he shakes his head and he says my pa won’t be no respecter of state lines when it comes to what we just done twice in the have-nice-day-now motel. Doodahs will be shot here just as easy as there, he says.

    We laugh ’bout it, but we’s serious, too. Coen says we just got to wait out our time. Not even a year, he says, and then it’ll be ok and we can be what we is wherever we is. And I know he’s right and talking sense – talking sense ’bout love, which mamma says don’t ever make sense and she’s talking ’bout way back and she’s talking ’bout her and pa. Momma all soft in her face then and her words soft too, like holy prayer and blessing, and she says that’s how it was for her and pa, and love could leap over high walls and cross wide rivers or oceans, and there warn’t nothing that love wouldn’t dare, that pa wouldn’t dare. And there it is: one rule for them and one rule for us, me and Coen. And like I said, there shouldn’t be rules for love.And Coen says ‘damn right’ but he says we just got to wait.

  2. He asks me sometimes. He asks me how much and I laugh and I tell him ‘fuck, isn’t it obvious’ and I say ‘to the moon and back’, which he laughs at and he says is about eight days – in fact he says it is eight days, three hours and eighteen minutes, and he’s talking the fucking moon landings and he says it’d be less than eight days if he was to take off the twenty-one and a half hours spent on the actual moon surface.

    To the fucking stars, I tell him, and he seems a little happier with that. Just for a minute he does. Then he looks up at the sky and it’s so blue it almost hurts and he makes a show of looking at the whole sky, searching, like he’s lost a plane or a set-adrift balloon. And he says then that he don’t see no stars and I don’t fucking know what that’s supposed to mean, except he wants me to say something more about how much I love him.

    It’s a game, I know that. And it don’t mean squat in the whole scheme of things. It’s like he’s trying to catch me out, which he did with the ‘to the moon and back’ shit. But really he knows. As much as ever we know. And I press myself against him and I tell him he knows. And he kisses me and like that he knows.

    And if your love was an animal, what’d it be, he says. Jesus but that’s fucking stupid, I say. My love is a fucking animal and I point to the torn button on his shirt and I test my teeth against his neck and I lick the side of his face and I hold my fingers to my nose and sniff. He laughs and he says I’m crazy, and I say I’m crazy in love with him.

    He still wants to know what animal exactly. I give it some consideration and I’m trying to think clever. I say to him then that my love is a mosquito or a midge. He looks at me all quizzical and he’s waiting for the punchline and he can’t work out if love being like a mosquito is a good thing.

    We’re laughing then and I remind him how mosquitoes bite him and they never bite me, even when we sleep in the same bed. And they are always there, even if we’ve kept the window shut all day. They sneak in through the cracks and they always find him. And kissing and biting him in his sleep and never leaving him alone and itching for days, even after it’s not there.

    He says a mosquito isn’t exactly romantic and I ask him what fucking animal he would want my love to be. Romantic, for fuck’s sake! What fucking animal can be counted romantic? And he says, quick as a fucking whipcrack, that he wanted my love to be a swan. Jesus, a bloody swan. And he said that was on account of swans staying together forever.

    I tell him he’s soft and he’s soft as swan feathers and all fluffy and white. And I kiss him again and I bite his neck and I press up against him. And I tell him what he wants to hear – to the furthest star and back, and that’s like forever, and a swan if he wants me to be, and isn’t it obvious. And I laugh to cover the cracks in my voice, because I’m thinking then that forever is a fucking long time for anything, even how I feel about him which is crazy in love.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s