A story about brain cheating. In the 2nd person.
There you are, talking to your ex. Just talking. You're keeping a comfortable physical distance and mentioning your girlfriend's name every few minutes.
The reminiscence begins (more or less) innocently. Just an accidental used of the code word you once used to talk about sex when your friends were around. “Let’s go play pool,” you say. She winks at you and both of you laugh for almost a full minute.
Then, suddenly, you’re reliving the good old days. Remember that time she showed up at your house while you were still asleep and…
The physical distance lessens. Suddenly, it feels natural all over again to take her hand in yours. To put your arm around her waist. What is time, anyway? Just a subjective ordering of moments. Time is SO pre-Einstein.
She says you’re looking good, and you remark that you can remember her eyes—and how you would always forget how to talk because you were too busy memorizing them. She says she and her boyfriend are doing well, and you say your relationship is going great, too. Somehow, it feels like denial.
And then, you’re hugging (a bit longer than suits propriety) and telling her how good it was to see her. Most of your head is glowing with the excitement of an outing gone well. The rest of it is panting and relieved, as if you’d just backed away from the edge of a cliff.
Dan