October 5, 2002
Service Experts
Mike and I talk about cousins and sisters and friends' weddings, and the various discrepancies therein. I muse silently over a medieval wedding he claims one of Josh's friends had, and he exclaims how cool it would have been to get to wear a sword.
"I know." He says suddenly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at me. "You can be Princess Leia and I'll be Han Solo."
My breath sticks in my throat, and it is a moment before I can manage to jest about wearing my hair in braided buns over my ears. He grins at me, and do I fool myself into thinking I see something in his eyes? Something surprised, surprised at what he has just said?
I am surprised, joking or no. Mike doesn't say things like that. Mike doesn't joke about... marriage.
That was scary even to type.
I could talk about watching cartoons and falling asleep for nearly an hour. I could talk about Mike being a zombie when he had to take me home. I was guilty and anxious. I don't think I should go tonight. Want to go. Need to see him.
But he needs sleep.
Tuesday will be lovely.
The future, the future...
I don't want to be Princess Leia at my wedding. I want to be Jill.
And, if at all possible, I think I'd like him to just be Mike.
I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have let myself say that.
astera at 1:09 p.m.