A Neat Little Life
A soft melody filled the air around us as we ate, his gaze catching mine across the table between bites. His eyes are soft, his gaze steady, and I feel a familiar flutter in my chest at his sweet smile. He's everything I've ever wanted, but as he smiles that sweet smile at me from across the table, his fingertips tracing gentle patterns across the back of my hand, I find I struggle to push you and that cocky crooked grin of yours from my mind.
It's a nice restaurant- a real restaurant, complete with white tablecloths, folded napkins and chilled wine. His taste always was impeccable- not improbably because it so closely mirrors my own. We talk about New York, reminiscing and recollecting. He recalls, with a squeeze of my hand, the time we hungered for New York together, his truck winding down dusty back roads while we discovered parallel after parallel in our affections. A matched set, you called us once, and I can almost see you rolling your eyes.
We are well matched- a fact he shares proudly. Our parallels go beyond just New York, down to our very cores. He's a lawyer- his organized, tidy life aligns perfectly with the cautious and orderly nature of mine. We fit together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, into a neat little life.
You… you were anything but conventional. A bartender, guitarist, handyman, fisherman, rooftop singer- and always full of surprises. I never knew quite what to expect- something you took full advantage of, never missing a moment to rattle me. You were always frustrating like that. I wonder where you might be, as we sit here sipping expensive wine and smoothing the napkins over our laps. Briefly, I picture you tending the bar, towel thrown carelessly over your shoulder, or cruising in your Chevy, with a familiar one-handed grip on the wheel.
He walks me to my door at the end of the night, always a gentleman, and his kiss is sweet on my lips. Alone in the dark, I struggle against noting the absence of your crooked grin and your familiar insinuations. Alone in the dark, it's harder to bring myself to my senses. With you- you and your un-tucked, casually unbuttoned shirts and your crooked grin- I think of Christmas lights in August, of a gentle melody strummed against the chords of your guitar, and of heated moments after too much wine. Silly arguments, easy laughter, and that mischievous spark in your eyes that made my breath catch in my chest and my heartbeat quicken.
With the light on, it's easier to push you from my thoughts. Easier to see how perfect he really is, how perfect we are together. With you firmly out of my head, I think only of him, and nice nights out like this one, of a nice little house in the suburbs, of kids with my dark eyes and his sweet smile. With the light on, it's easier to see how he's exactly what I always wanted.