My refuge, Bernie,
Do I remember? The glimpses of blonde hair and berry scrubs, the silent footsteps and the breath of air as you ran from pillar to post? The desperation, the needing to prove, to be the best, to stay the best, do more, be more. The consults, the questions, the best of intentions, the casual sparring and the full on joust, jostle for position, not posturing but teasing, spilling over the edges, the touches, the sparks. The labelling of reaction as competitive friendship, yet supporting, feeling our way on waves of questions and challenge, set to showcase the other, after you, after all, afternoons of debating, pages and phone calls, visits to the trenches, battle lines drawn but not opposing sides. Encourage the spontaneous, to go with my gut. "Trust your instincts Serena, I do?"
Do I remember? The pain in your face that wasn't quite masked as one by one they turned and forgot who I am? The integrity hidden and the skills were forgotten, gossip and questions of ability begotten, no confidence, well a sham and a farce. The strength and resolve as you vowed to fight the good fight, the stay by my side and the talks into the night, the broken shell hidden by brusqueness and sarcasm, the refuge of all who find themselves downtrodden. The gestures, overt and the well-wishing glances, so eager you were to give me second chances, where no other fool would wilfully tarry, my burdens it seemed no effort to carry, kindness exalted and then it was leaving, for another heart towards which you were cleaving, a woman from past, I hadn't expected, your heart not your husband who wasn't selected. Cheating a familiar refrain in a life, where another man did stray from his wife, reputation is tarnished and trust paid a price for wandering lonely and seeking some solace, relief from the humdrum and love and affection. Battle armour donned in attempt to save face, red lip stick, leopard print and hints of sheer lace, in sharp contrast to waffle grey comfort, embroidered position and the hugs that were longed for, not asked for, not given, but touch is deceiving, pats on the back and gentle arm squeezes, impartation of togetherness and once more a team, still not fully conscious of what that would come to mean?
Do I remember? The spy in the camp, the obliteration of trust, usurper in the midst of what I had come to think of as "us?" Accepted your transfer to stand by my side, "stab in the back" was the only though in my mind. Indisputable indispensable, to my Sherlock a Watson, a hero, a confidant, reading my thoughts, the moments in silence and soft little touches, the pull towards what I had so often sought, highlight the lonely and moments of each other, the smoking break smokeless and the freezing cold air, sitting so close, a sizzle, a stare, dread of rejection and liquid courage needed, the deep roots of you and me not so easily conceded, my sounding board and go to, you took down my walls, my strength and my song and my first port of call. Phone numbers exchanged and the little tiny texts, "how was your day" and "Friday, well after next?" Plans and the times silent together all making, a friendship, a best friend and the time we were taking, the knowledge of the other, deep down inside, the sharing of secrets and the things we wouldn't hide, but still the places of the pain we kept hidden, something still too big, to speak of, to get rid.
Do I remember? The blurring of boundaries, between home and that of work, Jason, a nail file, a button sewn on your shirt, the liquids consumed, black, brown and red, the fear of arachnids and experiences in bed, man shaming and husbands who chose not to see us, both thankful and hurt by the decree meant to free us, the meals and leftovers, snatched lunches in boxes, cookies and temptations, to my hips seeing toxic, shining eyes and the laughter and the pull of together, setting up a sense of forever.
Do I remember?
Love, Serena x
