"?ECAEP"

11/15/95

Last night is still stinging in her head, even as she moves forward through the day. She hurt him but good last night, and it felt good to shove back ... last night. Today, oddly enough, when they talked on the phone, she was completely calm and at ease. Not to say that his words and tears didn't affect her - they did. It was like being at one of those retreats so long ago, where she would fight with someone, and the next day something awful would happen to that person, and she would feel compelled to go offer a hug or a helping hand. It wasn't an apology, the timing was wrong for apologies. It was a sympathetic gesture of true grace.

She wanted to hold his hand, reassure him that was only looking out for his welfare, that she would be there through the whole ordeal. She couldn't and yet, she felt she was sitting next to him in his room, offering her shelter to give comfort to the man crying on the other end of the line.

Things had changed overnight, or had they? Perhaps this was the setback he needed and the push she needed to be at a more equal level together. The force with which he had been pursuing her was exhausting, and her walls were damaged, if not completely shattered. As if she had time to rebuild them after her last battle. The scars of that longing desire were still fresh on her mind.

It was hard to explain to him how she felt so strongly, but not in the same way. It was reminiscent of the silence an old friend used to give her, and now she knew why. How can you share that much emotion with one person, without giving them the wrong impression? The love that she felt for this man was not one asking for marriage, but one asking of transcending time and space to assure her, and to have her assure him.

He sniffled and she lowered her voice more, cooing over him like a mother with her child who has stubbed their toe while out playing. To the child it hurts more than anything, but when someone tells you that it will heal and they will help you get back up, it takes some of the sting away.

She imagines herself slipping into the phone line, and having her hand come out the other end to wipe away a lone tear on his rough cheek. Her fingertips brush across his trembling lips, and rest there for a moment, until the trembling subsides. She imagines her voice caressing his ear with soft tender words that become silk as they reach him, gently twining themselves about his hand, brushing his skin like feathers from a baby dove. She only wants him to feel this peace, this lull in the commotion going on in his heart, his head. She wants to bring him out of the blackness and show him a light ahead. A light ahead of both of them, further away from her, but so much brighter. She wants to take his hand and walk there - together in strength.

Alas, she can't even begin to do these things. All that she can do is sit on the floor cross-legged and talk to him until they run out of time together. There will be more time later, but it won't be *now* and that's what is important. She cares so much, and the chasm is only getting wider and deeper. It takes so much to just reach him. She watches the moonrise in silence - it offers no consolation prize tonight.

Jennifer Kelbaugh
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