February 28, 2003
Hallelujah Two
I keep hearing doorbells in places where there certainly can be no doorbells. Like today. I am scrutinizing my eyebrows in the mirror when I hear that distinct sound. I do not bother to glance into the hallway. There are no doorbells in dormitories, and none of these girls are strange enough to be listening to something like Radiohead that might contain a doorbell-esque chime. No, the census is unanimous. I am just going crazy.
My heart was aching last night, ushered into trembling by the subtle powers of Coldplay's 'Parachutes' album. I made it as far as the gas station before I found myself dialing Mike's number and asking if I could come back.
We had dinner with Missouri Dave last night: penne pasta and shrimp and sauce laced with Sambuca and chiles. My mother would have been proud to see my polished plate. I didn't want to stay to watch the movie, but the road proved to be too cold and too long. I wonder, how small did I sound on the phone? Why, when he said 'yes' the first time, I felt the need to ask twice more?
So little sleep on Thursday, what with talking until three in the morning and sex at a quarter after nine. We wrestled with nothing but the sheets for modesty and finally showered before thinking too seriously about going back to bed. So, when Missouri Dave departed with light hearted curses on his tongue, we crawled quickly to bed.
Was it restless sleep that had him rolling over and clutching me so many times? Maybe my heartache began to bleed into the sheets and made it difficult for him to dream?
I did, but it wasn't about us. I sleep so much better when I am alongside his warmth.
astera at 11:43 a.m.