Jun 25 2008
His girl Friday
Friday, 6.30 pm - He calls. Will we meet tonight? Yes, why not? This is neutral territory for her, an empty jungle of opportunity to seize. They only met once before, biblically, over a year ago. Now he’s moving to Madrid. She will remain in Buenos Aires, at least for now. He’s married. She’s not. She opens the door and peeks to check whether she’s not dreaming. He has made plans so many times before…but the family, the fear, the lack of habit for a plan, all made it difficult for him to find the way of going to her as he had wanted.
They talk, and have a shower together, before making love for the first time. Their bodies feel so natural against each other, so familiar and comfortable. The pizza arrives, four inches larger than his sex. They eat, they touch and she watches him, aroused once more.
He will wait for her in bed later, and will ask whether he can spend the night. She will say yes, she would have offered, but did not dare. They make love in that unusual and unique connection they generate out of an odd, unmeant encounter, populated by the ancestral layers of skin they have shared in their unrevealed, common past. He stays over, oddly enough, taking up so little space in the bed that he is almost unnoticeable. He may have snored, she may have heard him…
The next meeting may or may not ever happen. She will probably guess what makes him so strange and so necessary. She can have sex with men, but she cannot love them. They both know what a woman tastes and feels like, even while he is not aware that she does. He cannot fall in love with her, and be destroyed by the force of her untamed nature. She cannot be other than his peer, even when he ignores everything about her. He calls her his friend, but she is his lover. The way he wants it, the way he dreams it…no questions asked, no expectations…simply his girl Friday.
