of Archer

This post is a sneak peak, for followers of Magaly Guerrero's blog, Pagan Culture. Specifically, it's a preview of my entry for this: Art, Passion, and Heart-Told Tales. 

The icon's over there -->

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I have loved you for a thousand lives.

Our bodies knew, but our minds were suspicious. We didn't trust each other, but we were bound together from the first moment, from the first caress of recognition. That charge between us, irresistible and ineffable, has been all that held us together, in the worst times. We're lucky that it did, but luck had little to do with it. Underneath our suspicions and behind our fears - down to our bones - this bond was always strong, despite our gravest questions.

You were late. But I was comfortable, sitting in the restaurant, sipping lemon-water and reading the e-book version of "Tender is the Night" on my phone. I was in a window seat, at a table with only two chairs. I was facing the door. 


I didn't know what to expect. I couldn't remember what your pictures looked like, but I wasn't worried - we would figure it out. The restaurant wasn't busy. There were a few other people there, but not many. And I was the only one sitting alone. 


You strode in the door, hasty and happy. You saw me right away. I don't remember what we talked about. You were so sexy and my attraction to you was instant, but I left not knowing what to think of you. 

Our first date had been spontaneous. We had planned to meet two days later, for lunch. That morning he had woken up hungry, and invited me to breakfast. It was the middle of the week; I dropped my child off at school, and went to meet him. We kept the second date.

We met for lunch at a cafe - the one that became our favorite, later - then wandered around town, poking around in antique shops, looking for old books. You were dashing, in the most genuine way, and I was delighted with the joy you took in simply being there. You bought me a birthday present that day, five months before my birthday. You said you had to get it now, in case you forgot my birthday. 


Later, when my husband asked me how it went, all I said was, "good, I like him." He asked if I wanted to have sex with you. I said I didn't know, and that was mostly true. I didn't tell him that I still didn't know what to think of you. You didn't fit in any of the boxes I was familiar with.

He still doesn't fit in any boxes.

I still don't know what to think of him.

But I know that whatever happens, he'll be here, and that's right where I need him.