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Scripts

Mirror Image

Sometimes, I forget what I look like.

Like when I am imagining you dancing with me; it’s another woman’s face that I see. She is prettier, her smile straighter and well glossed, her hair softer and not as recalcitrant as my curls, her waist smaller, her legs longer, her skin the hue of pink roses… a woman who would have been better for you.

Sometimes, I forget what I look like.

You walk through the door of the apartment we call home, shorter strides than you took when walking up the street. I know because I watched you from the window. I like to watch you while you are unaware. It makes me feel powerful, like I could keep you safe from anything.

I fold my arms and sit on the window sill facing the door, watching still.

“Hi” you say, hanging your keys and coat, dropping your bag where I have told you not to leave it a thousand times…

“How was your day?” I ask.

“2 normal deliveries, 1 Cesarean..” you tell me, as if days are measured by births.

“And you?” You ask. “How was your day?”

“He kicked twice. I threw up once. Sent about a hundred emails. Attended 5 meetings that felt like a 100. All in all, a good day.”

You laugh and reach down to kiss my belly. I close my eyes and let the smell of the hospital’s generic shampoo you have used to wash fill my nose.

 

The child kicks in response to your attentions so now it is my turn. I once thought kissing was the grossest, yuckiest thing about love. Until you kissed me that rainy day in front of the hospital. I had run all the way from my apartment in 140th to tell you my Nonny had died. You couldn’t tell the rain from my tears and so to be sure, you kissed me, tasted salt and told me there and then that you loved me and would never leave.

You used to kiss me with your eyes closed. Until the day I told you how hard it was to remember what I looked like. So now we kiss with eyes open. Your eyes my mirror, your eyes my rose colored glasses.

When you are here, I know just what I look like. I look like love. I look like your wife. I look like the mother of your child. I look like hope. I look like faith, the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things now seen. Most importantly, I look like you and in your eyes I see immediately that there is no one better and I am the best.

So I kiss you back with eyes wide open and let my dreams and hopes melt into yours.

Song of the day: Marry Me – Train

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