Try as I might, I can't hang on to the norms and the every day that came here before. I wish it was simple. I am close enough to see that it is not. I am the other side of the world to you. We sit; we chat but I am not really here. I am glad of the distraction, yes. You do this well. Keep the steady tempo of everyday life but still there is the gaping chasm that whispers between us somewhere. I want it gone. Rid. Discarded as something that doesn't belong. Not here. The little demon that somehow has nestled its place firmly between us; an unwanted child.
Clicking seconds on the silent watch snake systematically, poignantly poised on each quarter hour. A time like this and I don't want to wait. On the precipice of something or nothing. Something that reminds me of my inner child that is now heavily disfigured by control and the automated muted emotion of an adult mind. Where I sit as a foreign visitor across the desk from the person who speaks a different language to me. I may well recoil; retreat to a safe familiar place. And that is okay. Blurred black and white images blinking anonymously on a screen. All this contribute to the outer body experience. Hard to connect. Hard to feel.
All the time, there is a warm, steady weight on my left knee. You. Here. Connected. And I can't help but not look your way. Too focused on staying in auto-drive, controlled and ready to file the information in a well-used cabinet that has entries pretty much from A through to T. But I know you are here. And I am talking to you in my head, letting you know that whatever comes next, I will be all right. You may not be. And maybe the Us that we have both easily become won't be feeling all right either. I don't know. And all the while, I am wondering what you may be thinking or feeling right now. And I feel like I am on the other side of the world somehow. Trying to work out which way should be up. Me or you? What is the best right here? If I had any control, what would I choose? I know the answers I think, but as all of these thoughts and voices clump together tangling around my kicking legs like wet, slippery seaweed, I bob back up to the surface.
Gasping for air after a long dive, I re-emerge eyes blinking. Yes. There it is. A simple white blob. Nothing to get excited about. Right, excited? Interesting choice of word. Excitement to me is more akin to running through the rain, taking a sickie from work and sipping on a cocktail, finding a well hidden chocolate, and a lovingly scribbled post-it note. Anything that is not this little demon. But I go with it. Nod and ask questions. And then there is nothing but silence and a faint scuff of a ballpoint pen travelling across the doctor's pad. Done. Nothing else? This was it?
I turn. You have sat stock still with one hand clamped against your closed lips. I hear me asking you if you have anything that you want to ask. You look back at me. It is you but you are not the same. Distant somehow yet near. Two years to wait somehow became three. And that is good, I suppose. All we need to do now is watch and monitor. A thing that may or may not be anything more than a pathetic white blob. I know what you are thinking right now. What to watch for and if I had my wit and humour on hand, I would have scolded you with a twinkle in my eye; there will be no database. Ever. Not for this. I am not going to recorded, measured or form any sort of insightful trend. No. I will know. And you will too, I think.
And just like that, we are out. Account settled and heading out to walk down the street where we had agreed to meet before 'the thing.' But we both stop. And there it is. You coming back to me from your protective hiding place behind your eyes. That half-smile, sort of shrug and the faintest quiver from your mouth down to your chin. I am here for you, as you are here for me. I know; it's hard. It could have hurt so much more, and I think that the tide of what you may not have chosen to feel just flowed over somehow, right there as we stood rooted to the fading patch of hospital carpet. Many others may have come through that door and have done so before us, but they may not be the lucky ones. Not like us. And without hesitation, we are locked inside that hug. The one that makes the world fade into insignificance around us. A physical and emotional embrace that speaks so many unspoken words that wrap around you and me.
With the last squeeze shared, we are out through the doors and down the street. And yes, it didn't take long I can say with a wide smile; hands held, arms swinging, talk of benchmarking things and thingies...
Let's see shall we? This will slide into the background of Us you know, but I will not let it get away or take over. You may just have misread my signs. I don't do denial. I have got this and sure, I am never going to be rushing in to go through all of this again, but I will.
But for now, I am happy to be sampling a drop of this 2011 Cabernet Merlot with you, enjoying the swirling wash of burgundy bursting across my taste buds...
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| Let's keep this Little Demon in a bottle with its lid tightly screwed. |
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