I don't usually write like this. I know I lack the subtle creativity required to paint beautiful pictures with words, but at the same time, there is a part of my brain which just refuses to shut up unless I vomit out this burning feeling that will not just fade away. So here is prose, written on high brain vomit- not giving two squats to what I say or imply - not bothering with logic and reason - just pure impulse and need - writing for sake of sanity. I am not used to writing in the first person, and I am not used to this.
Stepping into the overcrowded room, I take a sharp breath and my eyes scan the room for the one person who I would gladly spend this evening with, rather than the hordes of people crowding the room. I search the room, almost with alarm, but all that catches my eye are officers, dressed in their ceremonial uniforms, as I am, mulling around, interacting with one another about the boring activities that fill their mundane days.
Just as I am about to absolutely panic - I catch sight of her and my heart calms down. Dressed in that simple yet stunning style of hers, she stands looking lost and disinterested in the midst of the mass of police officers that surround her. She's holding on to a glass of champagne, something I've learnt about her. As sweet as she is, she needs a bit of alcohol to keep up with too many people, and judging by the crowd here, I'm sure she must be quite drunk now. It takes me a second to recollect myself and I tell myself to calm down and talk to her. I am just about to go up to her when my mother grabs my hand and whisks me in the other direction. She forces me through this absolutely drab conversation with police officers I care tuppence about. All that consumes me in this moment is to find her, talk to her, turn this utterly sour evening into a night I will never forget.
Wiggling myself out of the conversation, I leave my mother a little high and dry and set out to find my Plus One forever. Having looked all over the huge ballroom and finding her nowhere, my mind decides to look in the one last obvious, yet odd place.
"Knew I'd find you here."
She turns around and sees me. It always amuses me how it felt like I never seemed to exist until this woman trampled into my crime scene swinging her goddamn lunchbox, but the emotions this woman makes me feel with just a look from her is outright insane. She grins that lopsided grin of hers, and I think back to the last time I was with her in a coat room closet.
She was playing me to her charm that time, wasn't she? And I fell right for it. Not that I would ever regret it. Ever.
She walks over to me and rests her head right on my shoulder, closes her eyes and lets out a contended sigh.
"Drunk, are we?" I ask, unable to resist smiling at her.
"Drunk we are!" she mumbles back, trying to somehow cuddle in this awkward, standing position we are in. I smile at her adorable, drunk antics and proceed to drag her out of the coat room.
"Too many memories for you, Officer?" she says, obviously annoyed at being pulled away from the comfortable position we were just in.
"Too many officers, Hol. They're all going to keep interrupting us anyway."
"Ahhh", she mumbles back, not bothering anymore with me pulling her up a lofty flight of stairs.
"Are you sure we aren't trespassing?" she asks me, probably wondering what we were doing outside the door that read 'Trespassers will be prosecuted.'
"Holly, I'm a police officer. I think I'ld know if we were trespassing." I say back, smiling at her as I fumble with the various bolts that latch the terrace door.
"I know I'm not that drunk to read that wrong." she starts again as I finally heave the door open and she gasps at the view before her. The roof is pitch black, save for a little light from the moon, and completely deserted, something which she and I absolutely love. I wedge the door open, making sure it won't lock us out on the roof for the night and lead her over to the parapet wall, below which the city lay dotted with little lights that lit up and distinguished it's various features.
She leans over the wall and looks down at the city's traffic, now quite slow being late in the night. As I stand next to her,I can't help but gaze at her as she looks with that look of absolute wonder at the city. She looks gorgeous in the little light there is, and it takes all of my restraint to not have my way with her right here.
"Did you know that the average Canadian household uses the highest of about 12,000 units of electricity in a year?"
I smile a wide grin at her ability to dork up my attempt at being romantic, but it's something I absolutely adore about her. I have my snarky ways, she - her clever, brainy ways - and there isn't anything in the world I would rather do, other than listen to this woman ramble out facts in the most endearing way possible.
"How was I supposed to have known that, Hols?"I ask her, smiling at her awe at seeing the city awake at night like this.
She giggles at my snark and rests her head on my shoulder again.
"Fine. Here's something about you." she starts, taking my hand and running her fingers through mine and holding them.
"You always use adjectives. Cool. Amazing. Wonderful."
I knew exactly what she was talking about and I mentally note down to punch Dov in the gut for blabbing to her.
I take my hand and wrap it around her, as she inches closer into my frame.
"I don't have anything more now, do I?"
She jerks a bit and looks up to me, and tilts her head in that way of hers that makes me open up to her. It fascinates me that for all my cold, snarky, distant ways - she could turn me into a blubbering mess of emotions - all with a tilt of her head.
"I am not an open person, Hol."
She lets out little laugh. I guess she probably doesn't think that. She probably doesn't think of how different I am with her - and how reserved I am with the rest of the world.
"If anyone knows that, it's me." she laughs back and then rests her head on my shoulder, looking out to the night view of the city again. I smile at her and retell myself that if anyone knows me better than myself, it's this woman.
"Okay then, sorry but the word 'Lunchbox' doesn't really cover it all for me." I say back with a laugh of my own, as she takes a deep breath and turns to look at me with a playful look in her eyes.
"That was mean, you know. The first time you called me that. So freaking mean" she whispers playfully in my ear, and I know, at that instant that, this woman would be the death of me.
"I'm not going to apologize to you now." I say back to the woman, smiling harder as her breath rushes over my ear. She steps back and does the classic Holly head tilt yet again and I groan, in vain of course.
"Not fair Doc, you get only one of those a day!"
She starts laughing hard and I smile at her ways. Gosh this woman makes me smile so much doesn't she. How did she manage that, I'll never know.
I grab her arm and pull her close and give a soft kiss on her cheek as she slowly stops laughing, but still chuckling a little.
"I'm sorry for calling you a Lunchbox that first time. There!"
She grins that lopsided grin of hers and resumes her position on my shoulder, slowly closing her eyes. It's been a long day today.
"Does that mean I don't get to call you my Lunchbox anymore?" I ask teasingly, knowing well that she absolutely loves being mine.
"You can call me Lunchbox. Provided I get to call you my cat. You're like Holly's cat. Or Stewart's cat, that sound's better. Like a new improved version of Schrodinger's cat, in a lunchbox now." she starts rambling all about a cat in a box and how it was meant to disprove a theory of light and I'm back to wondering how I accomplished this feat of making this cool, amazing, wonderful person mine.