I would never know why that night, after I accidentally found Anya’s passports, I returned to her bedroom and slept by her side the rest of the night.
Man’s behavior defies reason at times. Perhaps I did not want to wake her up and argue in the middle of the night. Perhaps I was scared she might reveal something that I wasn’t prepared for. Perhaps I was just too tired.
When I woke up, Anya was sitting by the bed, her wavy golden hair falling over the white sheet like a dreamy waterfall. The high window let in the morning light through the drapes, enough for the stark room to absorb some warmth and color. It took me a few seconds to recollect what had happened the night before as I tried to simultaneously decipher Anya’s focused look, directed at me.
A gentle rustle with a book being pushed towards me resulted in me getting up and sitting up very straight on the bed; in a second I was prepared by instincts to be on my safeguard. She did not move a bit, stuck to her posture as if that let her contain her emotions. I was ready to avert an attack with all my manly strength if needed.
She understood my anxiety and said, "Don’t worry".
I looked at the book she was trying to show me. It was an old magazine of sorts. The frayed corners and the faded blue color suggested an old school magazine.
"My high school yearbook", she answered my un-asked question.
I opened the page where she had the bookmark and stared at her much younger photo on the page. Palmira Haswell was the name under the photo.
I closed the book and searched for more answers in her eyes. I wanted to say, "Who are you?" But I did not, because she already knew all the questions I wanted to ask. And I did not ask because I was so much in love with her. She looked at me with her beautiful eyes and her hands reached out for mine. Her soft fingers touched my cold hands but I pulled away, like a lover angry at being kept in the dark. At that moment I read on her face what I had long waited for.
She was in love with me too.
Man’s behavior defies reason at times. Perhaps I did not want to wake her up and argue in the middle of the night. Perhaps I was scared she might reveal something that I wasn’t prepared for. Perhaps I was just too tired.
When I woke up, Anya was sitting by the bed, her wavy golden hair falling over the white sheet like a dreamy waterfall. The high window let in the morning light through the drapes, enough for the stark room to absorb some warmth and color. It took me a few seconds to recollect what had happened the night before as I tried to simultaneously decipher Anya’s focused look, directed at me.
A gentle rustle with a book being pushed towards me resulted in me getting up and sitting up very straight on the bed; in a second I was prepared by instincts to be on my safeguard. She did not move a bit, stuck to her posture as if that let her contain her emotions. I was ready to avert an attack with all my manly strength if needed.
She understood my anxiety and said, "Don’t worry".
I looked at the book she was trying to show me. It was an old magazine of sorts. The frayed corners and the faded blue color suggested an old school magazine.
"My high school yearbook", she answered my un-asked question.
I opened the page where she had the bookmark and stared at her much younger photo on the page. Palmira Haswell was the name under the photo.
I closed the book and searched for more answers in her eyes. I wanted to say, "Who are you?" But I did not, because she already knew all the questions I wanted to ask. And I did not ask because I was so much in love with her. She looked at me with her beautiful eyes and her hands reached out for mine. Her soft fingers touched my cold hands but I pulled away, like a lover angry at being kept in the dark. At that moment I read on her face what I had long waited for.
She was in love with me too.
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