The Other Night

Dustin came into my room and it was sometime after eleven p.m. He was lounging on my bed and I was tucked into my computer chair with my legs stretched out onto the mattress like vines creeping ever closer. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in person in weeks, and I had to shove down the compulsion to touch him. His hair looks softer, shinier, more golden than it had just a few weeks before. I am careful to avoid making contact with those tiny seas that are surely holding pain, disappointment, other distasteful emotions.
We are both stretched out, but only his body language suggests ease. I am curled into my chair, fidgeting, turning from rose to crimson, noisily brushing hair away from my face, smiling awkwardly with my thoughts chasing each other like cars in my head. He smiles softly, in his way, and his deep voice seems to echo back and forth across my walls, "Will you just say what’s on your mind?"
I stare at him and his eyes feel like they are making tiny holes in my face as he assesses me. I ask him about his new job, and when that doesn’t work, I comment guardedly on the tension.
And the flood gates open. Suddenly the neurotic, rambling thoughts in my head spill forth, like vomit. I cannot stop them and I don’t want to; I need him to feel like parts of us are still the same.
At some point, we are arguing. Neither of us are really angry, only confrontational. With as much sass that is present in me, I say, "You cannot leave, ever. You signed up for this, you made a contract, if you will, that you cannot break. You chose me, and now you’re stuck with me."
He scoffs, then laughs. Or maybe the other way around. His eyes dance vividly as he says, "Oh really? And what contract is that? I don’t remember signing a contract."
I am a whirlwind as I go to my dresser and reach into my jewelry box. I pull out a ring, with a heart-shaped red gem in it and slam it down near those damned blue eyes. I say, "This was the contract. You got down on one knee and said, ‘Amanda, will you marry me someday in the future?’ And I said yes and our fate was sealed."
And then we went out onto the porch with the dead quiet of night. Lightning flashes and I am entranced, struck by memories. His voice is smooth like the slight breeze rustling across my skin. He asks me to take a walk with him, and with questions in my sweaty palms, I follow him, trusting him down to my very soul. We stop in the middle of the street, feeling like the only two people alive in the world at that exact moment; the only ones with enough awareness to cherish that special, fleeting spark of life. Speech is unnecessary with the smooth cloak of night and the serene quiet settling over the city. We are soaking in the inexplicable and understated bond between the two souls of ours that are forever intertwined. Lightning flashes again. The smell of grass and electricity infused together is intoxicating. I have a penchant for the night, and for you.
Please just trust me.

Amanda.