It's motion what's between us. It's movement, a crescendo, a constant rising and falling. We keep moving from want, to hate, to…being.
I couldn't live without him. God that sounds melodramatic. I could live but it wouldn't be fair. Now that sounds childish. The truth is I would be heartbroken. When I listened to that message and Weevil said he was on that fucking bridge…I couldn't breath. The walls closed in around me and this deep chilling sadness filled me. There was this all engulfing dark. That's what would happen if he died. I would wither. I would loose myself.
I could stand him hating me. I could stand his glares and comebacks. I could even stand him with someone else. It would hurt so much…I can't even imagine, but it would be better than that darkness of knowing that I would never ever see him again. That I could never talk to him again, or laugh with him, or taste him.
In that moment when Weevil said they found him on that bridge…I've never been that scared of anything in my life. Even when I was locked in the fridge with those bellowing clouds of smoke swelling in my lungs I wasn't as scared as I was in that one moment. I wished and prayed and begged for Weevil's next words to be what they were.
"We got the stupid fucker down before he could slip. I gave him a couple of good hits and then stuffed him in the back of his car to sleep the booze off."
I had breathed out for the first time it what seemed like hours.
He was ok…a little bruised but alive.
He was ok.
Then there had been the knock.
And he had been there. Leaning painfully against the door frame with the beginnings of a black eye, he had been there. I don't remember what I said then when I first saw him. I just remember him pulling me to him tightly.
"I was so scared…" he whispered "those fuckers on the radio didn't say what he did to you just that you had been injured."
And finally I could feel us moving again our movement rising and falling and I felt safe. I felt warm. I knew for now it would be ok, for now we would keep moving.
