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Pancakes
Today I found a little black hole developing in the far right corner of the front lawn, and even though John and Charlotte told me to, "just ignore it," my mind got so wrapped up in the idea of crawling into the boundaries of another world that instead of letting the hole go unnoticed, I moved my bed outside.
John walked over to me this morning with a plate of chocolate chip pancakes and a bottle of Sherry. "It's not for you, it's for me," he said. He took a big swig of the Sherry as I drowned my pancakes in sugar-free maple syrup. Between gulps he managed to say, "You know Lexi, this can't possibly be a black hole," I blinked at him and shoved a large bite into my mouth, "because that would mean its gravitational pull is so powerful that nothing, not even light, can escape it – so, if it really is a black hole, why are you still here?" He chuckled nervously and waited for a reply.
I put down my fork after loading in another mouthful of pancakes. John just stared at me, his eyes pleading for an answer. "What do you want me to say, John? That I'm sorry for being crazy and a big burden on your life? That I need some sort of therapy or counseling or just a general stern talking to?" He placed the Sherry in the grass and groped at his face with his hands.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Lex. We just want you to come back inside. It's just scaring us."
I rolled over in bed and gave John the silent treatment for the remainder of the afternoon, but he sat outside the entire time. At some point he finished the Sherry, took my plate inside, and reemerged with some Cabernet and two grilled cheese sandwiches. Charlotte, his fiancé, watched us from the window – she was crying. I watched Charlotte press her face against the window before redrawing the curtains, and then I heard the front door lock click into the door's threshold.
John handed me a grilled cheese and the Cabernet. "This bottle's for you," he said as he smiled.
There was a really long pause and everything felt really still and peaceful even though all of us are just so screwed up beyond regular comprehension. We all have these unfortunate problems and childish needs, but it didn't really matter right then. All that mattered was John and me and our journey.
He looked up at me, "I had to tell her, you know, about us, about how we know each other. I had to tell her everything, Lex." He grabbed the Cabernet from the bed, "Sorry, just one more sip." He turned the bottle upside down and took a huge gulp. He smiled again. "She'll never understand it – why I have this need to take care of you, to always be with you. She'll never get it."
I kissed him on the forehead, "I love you too, John."
