day two continued: love will tear us apart

troy fell asleep on robert’s pile of clothes, over by the closet. he was lying amongst jackets and corduroy pants, jeans, and concert t-shirts. sleep came like that, sudden and slamming into you; before you could stop consciousness was gone. so many hours of lacking those deep moments of sleep when things become clearer. when you are running fast and away from clarity the lie of awake is phenomenally addictive.

i should go home. my mom will wonder, not worry, but wonder. she will just make up her own drama filled conclusion that i would wince at, i can already hear it. and really, i don't want to leave. i watch robert and his sleepy eye stare, and i just want to bend and fold into a miniature me. disappear into the curve of his spine, float around inside of him. there are no words that can make this true enough. this moment. the pull he has on my every pore.

“do you want to stay?” he asks me, reaching for the light switch and motioning towards me with this impossible to resist warmth. there is absolutely nowhere worth knowing that I’d rather be. anywhere.

we climb into his bed. a double. he has the softest sheets. they smell clean, they smell like babies, like safety, like love. he opens up the blankets and enveloped me into them, then wraps an arm snug around me. with my head on his chest i can feel his intake of breath, the soft murmur of his heartbeat. it is all so intoxicating. i can feel my entire body suddenly give in and collapse.

“you should sleep more, janie. you and troy both. i don’t understand it. the way you chase around, running from the night. i love sleep.” he takes my hand then, reaches over and kisses the top of my head softly.

"it’s just…it’s just, like, so hard sometimes.” i choke on the words. the sting of possible tears hanging precariously in the balance of my eyelashes. i try to blink, i try to let go.

"what is?” He asks, not looking at me, but looking all the same.

“everything.” i whisper.

he knows things, i know he does. i can tell by the gentle way he is with me. how careful he tries to be, as if he's touching something fragile and new.

“you know, you and i are all he has.” he is whispering now, too, taking my lead.

“i know.”

i want to say they are all i have, too. well, the two of them, and sam. when she isn’t fed up with all this mess i am. i know i have her, even now when we don't talk. i wish i could tell him i love you. in this huge, encompassing way i love you. but the words just refuse. that kind of truth is jagged. raw. with far too many doors to open, all of them with possible hidden traps inside.

but, i feel it. beyond my age kind of love. and i know that it isn't something fleeting. this is that thing in my heart that will probably end me.