Good morning, Caligula
“Good morning, Caligula”, she says, which shocks me a bit, because I was sleeping, and giggle a bit at the reference, once it settles in, which was quite good.
Her face is very close to mine, and I’m facing the righthand side of the room, notice a bit of drool on my lip, which I quickly wipe off, out of embarrassment.
“Ugh, fucking revolting”, she says, smiling, but not quite laughing at me.
She looks really good –
I can see the blue of her eyes, and her gaze is constant, with remarkable confidence, as if she were waiting for me to wake up, so that she could make fun of me when I did.
I’m feeling quite awkward, and a bit nervous, as I was very drunk, and though I remember everything, I did rent a horse, and leave a large pile of horse feces in an urban center, riding off visibly drunk, having effectively stolen a blanket from the same restaurant that I desecrated with said feces.
Nonetheless, the results seem to have been a success, as she clearly had fun, and seems quietly happy at the moment.
I briefly turn my back to her, to see fog on the windows of this old farmhouse, in Holmlia, and these old, stiff, plaid colored curtains that don’t even completely cover the window, made out of a fabric more appropriate for a small flag that you attach to a car antenna.
The bed is simply ridiculous –
One of those military style, steel spring devices, with an ultra firm mattress, about one inch thick, that smells a bit off, and episodically sponges in random locations, leaving you shaped like a broken paper clip in the morning.
I brought my own sheets, blanket, and pillows, which add a bit of comfort and normalcy for both of us.
Despite all of this, we both had a tremendous night, and she clearly finds all of these deficiencies charming, so even though I’m not quite ready for profound thoughts about our future, I note it as a plus.
I turn around to look at her again, and it seems she hasn’t moved, and so she must have been staring at my back –
“Is that an extra blanket you’ve brought for me?”, she says, in reference to what is really not that much back hair, but I suppose it’s quite a bit for a Scandinavian.
“No, it’s a wash cloth, for your intimate bits,” I reply, and she smacks me on the chest, which prompts me to grab her and shout, and she screams in response, quite loud.
“Are you trying to get the farmer involved? Isn’t it a bit soon for that?”, I say.
“You, prick!”, she replies, as she climbs on top of me, causing both of us to hesitate for a moment, as we realize that perhaps we’ve both become a bit too familiar –
The environment, and my absurd antics, perhaps designed to take her out of the familiar, creating a temporary space in which only the two of us exist, and some aspect must have crept in to spoil that for both of us, perhaps the hour itself, a time when we would ordinarily be getting ready for work, creating a scheduled anxiety.
Moments like these are branches in relationships –
Everyone assumes that you can correct for something that could have happened, by simply doing it later on, but that’s simply not the case, as sometimes things don’t work, including relationships, when things happen out of order –
Just imagine frying an egg before you break it.
The choice presented in this case is fairly obvious –
Both of us are aware of what is happening, and that it’s a bit soon, especially given that we work for the same firm, and so the decision to lean in and kiss someone that you’re already in bed with depends upon the context, and in this case, it’s a signal, and possibly a path to something that neither of us can fully control.
To my astonishment, she leans in, completely unprovoked, grabbing the back of my head, pressing her entire body against mine, kissing me, and I put my finger tips on the right side of her face, pushing her hair behind her ear, ultimately holding the base of her head with my hand.
We pause often, and simply stare at each other, laughing a bit, not quite childishly, but aware of each other’s silliness, and at one point we pause, and she looks at me, and says with clarity and confidence,
“I love you, Charles”.