Tuesday, October 19

why he won't kiss me II

Wrapped in coats in the back of my truck, signing angrily: Why can't anyone ever do the right thing? Why?

He smiles a little bit, glances at the SUV across the parking lot. His hands are hesitant tonight like he doesn't remember what he's doing. His hands have forgotten a lot of things, but who can blame them when it's been so long? "What do you base your 'right thing' off of?"

What do you think.

"Hey. If I had not made that choice, if I was still getting fucked up every night, would this--" (IX, eyes cutting towards the SUV again) "--bother you so much?"

I lean my head on his shoulder and sigh.

"You know what comes next."

I nod, he says it anyway.

"I did the right thing for me and for you. I made sacrifices for you and I would again. You're worth it. It's--"

about priorities.

"Priorities. His are getting fucked up. My priority is you. Yours are horses and people who don't deserve it. That's who we are."

So beautiful, I sign half-heartedly.

"He is. But so are you."


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