Plenty of murder cases turn into knock-down-drag-out battles of wits, but this was different. This was the first time I had felt like my real opponent wasn’t the murderer but the victim: defiant, clenching her secrets white-knuckle tight, and evenly, perfectly matched against me in every way, too close to call.
“…a tiny gemstone, a tiny spark of color slipping between your fingers and through the cracks and gone. A heart the size of a fleck of glitter and vibrating like a hummingbird, seeded with a billion things that would never happen now.” Tara French
You huffed looking anywhere but at him. You turned away from him wrapping your arms around yourself. You didn’t know where to begin.
Bucky slowly walked toward you, he gently put his hands on your shoulders. Turning you around he wrapped his arms around you and held you to him.
“I was so worried about you. I knew something was wrong when you didn’t text or call me. Please talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.” He rubs your back softly.
You try to pull away and he wouldn’t let you. “Why do you always do this. Why do you always break me down. Why can’t you just let me go.”
He could hear that you were crying but he couldn’t let you out of his arms yet. He knew it was selfish but he couldn’t let you go. He needed you in his arms. He walked backwards toward your bed and gently pushed you so you sat on the bed. Sitting next to you, he kept his arm around you.
“I just need an explanation, and I want to say some things to you. After that you can leave, I hope you don’t but please just, you owe me, you owe me an explanation please.” Bucky said trying to meet your eye.
It is SO HARD TO BELIEVE that in two weeks exactly, we’ll be packing a little UHaul and starting our long jaunt across the continent!
Now that I’ve had time to get used to the idea, and have had several conversations with friends who seem genuinely excited I’ll be back in their part of the world, and have remembered that returning to Vancouver means spring starts in February, and that we’ll FINALLY be able to get stuff out of storage that’s been in there for EIGHT YEARS (what treasures await??? SO MANY BOOKS)… I’m pretty excited. I’m not without anxiety, but mostly I’m just happy.
Think of the first time you slept with someone, or the first time you fell in love: that blinding explosion that left you crackling to the fingertips with electricity, initiated and transformed. I tell you that was nothing, nothing at all, beside the power of putting your lives, simply and daily, into each other’s hands.