Words

— What is it?
A touch at my shoulder
– How do you know I’m awake?
—
— Because I know.
–
– Fear.
—
– Fear of you.
— You’re afraid of me?
– I’m afraid of you being afraid of me.
—
— I am.
–
— Afraid of you.
She shifts her weight
I feel her forehead on my back
– I don’t think I can bear it.
— It’s not for you to bear.
–
– But how can you do it?
—
– How can you bear it? This… whatever it is.
— Are you afraid?
– Hm?
— To say it?
–
– Yes.
— Why?
–
– Because of what I can’t say in the same breath.
— What can’t you say?
–
– All those good things the people want. That you might want.
—
– That I want.
—
– I’ll say it, what kind of father can a bipolar-schizoaffective be?
Silence
— You’ll never know until you try.
And I don’t expect that
– Is that what you’re doing now? Trying?
I realise I’m pushing her
Trying to push her away
But she moves her head against my back
I feel her body join mine behind me
— Oh no Jody, I’m not trying.
She moves and I feel her lips against my neck
— I’m living.
She kisses my neck again
— Turn around.
I turn to face her in the dark
Dimness and shadows
I speak, almost a whisper
– If I tell you that I love you, will you believe me?
She brings a palm to my face
— Yes.
We speak then only in touches