We were supposed to take a long walk but it started to rain. I instinctively started the run back to the car but you grabbed my arm to hold me back. “What’s the rush?” you say.
(In the end we ended up running back for the rain grew too much. Sometimes you just don’t want to challenge God.)
It was a cold night, and it had been the first cold night in many days. I am convinced that the warm summertime clouds my memories and eyes, but I’m sure it’s part delusion and part wishful thinking that colder evenings change anything.
We dried off in the backseat of the car and as you toweled my damaged hair that would never dry, I briefly mentioned that I would do something about the horrible roots. You scoffed and said that’s none of your business.
I’m always with cruel men who never know what to say or do especially when I’m looking for approval but at the same time, I know it’s unfair to want for something you never really asked for in the first place. So I said, “none of your business as in you don’t care, or what?”
"None of my business as in, I don’t care what you do to your hair, but I care about your feelings that you have for your hair."
That’s when I laughed, and I laughed really hard. I laughed so hard that I had trouble breathing for a while. Yes, I have a lot of feelings about a lot of things.
"You could be dropping hair from multiple dye jobs and I wouldn’t care. But I would care enough only if you were upset that you were dropping hair. Then I would tell you to stop that shit and come back to bed."
I smiled. “You’re unreal, you know?” I wanted to tell you that, but I never did. Instead you reached over to close the distance between us and sucked out the words from the tip of my tongue.