Ivo
"What was it like," I asked Isabel, "growing up with Ivo?" We were peacefully situated under the starry night sky, relaxing with our post-prandial drinks. Ivo was busy washing up and making plans for our departure the next day so it seemed the last chance I might get to speak with her alone.
She said nothing for a long while and I wondered at her silence. I had never heard her at a loss for words.
"Have you ever walked a long way in really comfortable shoes?" she asked finally.
I thought the question odd but admitted to have done so. Ivo and I had hiked a great deal in Alaska. He had, of course, chosen my shoes for me – making certain that I had logged several miles prior to our departure so that they were broken in and ready for the rugged terrain we would encounter.
"Well, that was Ivo. Being with him was as easy, as comfortable as slipping into a well-worn pair of shoes."
I tried to imagine life with Ivo as "easy" and "comfortable". The adjectives themselves, to say nothing of the metaphor, floored me. "Oh," I said. I wasn't sure what else to add.
"You and he got off to a rough start," she sympathized. "It's so different for lovers. Trying to win the other over, keep them interested. Figuring out what can and cannot be said and done. Learning to trust each other. It's such a nerve-wracking thing, forming a relationship. I can't imagine why people are so eager to bail from one just to start another." She sounded just like Ivo. 'Love the one you're with.'
I said nothing. I was one of those people, after all.
"Give it time, Tim," she laughed. "He'll let his guard down eventually."
I sat up to stare at her. "You think he is still guarded with me?"
It was her turn to be surprised. "But of course. Why do you think he never told you about what had happened?"
I lay back again. I didn't know Ivo? There was still more to come? I exhaled into the quiet of the dark, imaging walking a mile in a comfortable pair of shoes. It was a very pleasant thought, a perfect end to a perfect day.