It is cold —and even when we get into the car so.... I wait for him to put on the heat and shiver as I lean sideways against the side of the seat with my legs up and my knees to my chest to huddle for warmth
I ask him now about the weird thing he just said
He takes out his phone and shows me something,
“do you know what this is?”
“It looks like musical notes,” I say
“Yes, well, obviously! Look closer, duva,” he insists
“I’m dyslexic—but— I could hazard a guess it is —what—the major and the minor piano chords? I never could read music, Jörn.”
“Exactly....” he says and smiles at me, “but you are right, that is what this is.” He puts away his phone
Suddenly he says, and very casually,
“So did you miss me?”
He can be so strange but so impossibly handsome. I move over to him and angle between the steering wheel into his lap and wrap around his hips. I press myself there to him, and loosen his hair then cover his mouth with mine,
“what do you think?”
He smiles as he glances at the side rear view to see if anyone is there.... then runs his hands up the back of me to my hips and pulls me to him with a roughly accurate motion which belies what his expression does not
“You should put your seat belt on,” but he laughs and pulls me by the hips to press me into but then he sees someone in the rear view,
“actually, you should, there’s a state trooper ....” he says now
“Oh! ....Do you know it has been a year since ....” I say as I move up to move over ....but then I stop for a moment to look at him; to look .... into that den inside his eyes, “that first day ...” and watch his eyes respond with their elusive mystery
I move to the passenger seat and say,
“but you are too rational to get caught up in things like ....”
“Things like?” he asks me but he teases me
“You know—emotions..... You don’t really ever get emotional about anything —so it seems things don’t really ....” I run out of what to say
“I don’t? You think I don’t feel things?” he asks me seriously, “you think that I don’t notice you’ve been sleeping in my bed ....?”
And still he says nothing
“Jörn.... you know, I think you are like .... you’re like Spock, I think, —I mean, sometimes a girl needs ....a clear indication .... of—some sort of....” and run out of words
“So I’m Spock and my father is Yoda— what does that make you?”
“....Barbarella,” I say
“So my mother would be....?”
“Sarah Connor—“ I shrug easily as it’s a given but see he needs a hint, “the Terminater....” and I cock an imaginary machine gun.
we both laugh but then he shrugs with a heavy sigh,
“You really are obtuse.... you know? you don’t notice ....how I have turned my life upside down ...?” he looks at me and waves his arms, “look where we are.... why are we here? Because you wanted to get away from the city —do you know what I did just to bring you here? Why? Because of something going on in your pathological past you still won’t talk about and I have not forced out of you but you are running away from something that .... “and he looks at me in a kind of tragic way.
What is he thinking? He takes my chin in his hand thoughtfully and then drops his hand and looks suddenly away “.... which, at this point, you have to realize that.... the demon is inside you,” he says
“Yes. Well, whatever. Dr. Freud ....be that as it may.... Jörn, still.... sometimes a girl needs a more obvious sign.”
“My opera ....you know it’s because of ....we’ve talked about this.... ” he says and looks at me, “and the fact that my parents have accepted that Lisa and I are done.”
Such a brave statement and a comfortable commitment
I become aware of more than one conversation happening at the same time.
But then he asks me,
“Do you still want to know what I was doing in New Jersey?”
“If you want to tell me.”
“I found the table that went to the safe —your sister sold it on e-Bay for eight hundred dollars back in 2003. Wasn’t that the year after your parents died? They died six weeks apart, right?”
“Hmmm....” I put on my seatbelt
“And there were no wills....?” He asks me
but I take that as rhetorical rather than decide to open that conversation
and now ask, “the table to the code ....?” and look at him
He says,
“The table with the code ....key —to the safe with the code —lock,” he says
“What does that mean?” I ask him
“It means ....” he starts the car and turns in the seat to back out, “I need you to remember how to play that piece you won that award for.”
“You really are obtuse.... you know? you don’t notice ....how I have turned my life upside down ...?” he looks at me and waves his arms, “look where we are.... why are we here? Because you wanted to get away from the city —do you know what I did just to bring you here? Why? Because of something going on in your pathological past you still won’t talk about and I have not forced out of you but you are running away from something that .... “and he looks at me in a kind of tragic way.
What is he thinking? He takes my chin in his hand thoughtfully and then drops his hand and looks suddenly away “.... which, at this point, you have to realize that.... the demon is inside you,” he says
“Yes. Well, whatever. Dr. Freud ....be that as it may.... Jörn, still.... sometimes a girl needs a more obvious sign.”
“My opera ....you know it’s because of ....we’ve talked about this.... ” he says and looks at me, “and the fact that my parents have accepted that Lisa and I are done.”
Such a brave statement and a comfortable commitment
I become aware of more than one conversation happening at the same time.
But then he asks me,
“Do you still want to know what I was doing in New Jersey?”
“If you want to tell me.”
“I found the table that went to the safe —your sister sold it on e-Bay for eight hundred dollars back in 2003. Wasn’t that the year after your parents died? They died six weeks apart, right?”
“Hmmm....” I put on my seatbelt
“And there were no wills....?” He asks me
but I take that as rhetorical rather than decide to open that conversation
and now ask, “the table to the code ....?” and look at him
He says,
“The table with the code ....key —to the safe with the code —lock,” he says
“What does that mean?” I ask him
“It means ....” he starts the car and turns in the seat to back out, “I need you to remember how to play that piece you won that award for.”
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