It was one of the most intimate moments we’d ever shared.
I forget what I was in line for. I guess I had tuned out all the other people. I do that sometimes – the noise and the buzzing feeling I get in social situations lead me to focus on something else, something smaller, less loud. Staring at a penny that looked like it might be glued to the ground by my foot, hands in my pockets, I waited in the line.
All of a sudden someone brushed up against me. Not like when a stranger passes by and grazes an elbow, more like when you back yourself into a wall. Only this time the wall had backed into me. Someone was behind me, someone big. I could feel them, their warmth covered me like a blanket. Hands – rougher than mine and calloused – slid into my pockets behind my own. A head rested itself on my shoulder. I could feel a bit of stubble on the side of my face, hot breath next to my cheek.
It was sweet, not salacious. It was familiar, and I knew it was you without having to turn around. What I didn’t know was why it was you. Why were you there, standing in line with me – with me and in the middle of all these other people? It didn’t make any sense, and I thought about questioning it but stopped myself. It didn’t need to make sense. I’d ask questions later. For now, I just wanted to stand here staring at a glued-down penny, your big rough hands nestled behind mine in the deep pockets of my overalls, your head on my shoulder.
We didn’t talk. The line didn’t move. The wind didn’t blow, the birds didn’t sing. Nothing happened and at the same time, everything happened. We stood there together, me with you and you with me, hands in pockets.
A millisecond later I was startled awake by the loud creaking of my bedroom windowsill. These windows get to complaining whenever there’s a thunderstorm like the one tonight. It’s hot and raining heavy and the wood is moving around under the pressure.
I smiled at the absurdity of that moment.
A finger-snap ago I had been happy, in a sunny place feeling warm and secure, and just as I’d begun to thank my lucky stars or guardian angels or whoever was in charge of this sort of thing, I had been jerked back. Back to a cold lonely bedroom on a rainy night, back to lonely insecure darkness. Back to what was real.
It was one of the most intimate moments we’d ever shared, and it was a dream.
This is the nature of us.
Attitude Soup 