I’m not sure if I'll soon forget the look on her face when I pulled myself out of bed and reached for my glasses and the bowl of food she'd made for me earlier. For a second it might have looked like one she'd given me many times before; in fact, I think the reason it felt so noteworthy now was because I had just seen it a few nights prior, albeit in a much, much different context.
Her lips were parted just enough to see the bottom of her two front teeth; her eyes not quite wide, but still staring straight at me with a slight furrow to the brow - she looked confused, maybe even a little bit afraid of me. But the hushed tone of her voice told me enough of what I needed to know about what she meant.
"Wow. She's really getting up by herself."
She was right to be at least a little surprised, I suppose; I was so fresh from my nap that I honestly barely remember any of this as I write it down, and that alone I suppose is enough to justify the look of awe she gave me as I turned around to look at her, yawned, and put my glasses on.
Because that's really what it was, reflecting on it now - awe. But why? What's so special about me getting out of bed? I manage to do it every day (well, okay, fine, most days), and so does everyone else on the planet. It's the literal least I can do. What's there to be in awe of?
I'm not in her head, so I don't know. Now usually might be the time I'd write some kind of flowery line about her expression, or describe some action that she may or may not have really done, to describe how I thought she might be feeling just then - just as I've done above, and many times before that. But this time doesn't really feel like the right time for me to do that, for some reason.
Instead, I just look down at the bowl and open my mouth to speak:
"...What time is it?" I ask, already swallowing a forkful of spaghetti, and glancing back over my shoulder at her.
"It's 9:30," she said, as I turned my attention back to the TV in front of our bed. She had on one of our favorite reality shows, and it looked like she'd just finished getting into her work uniform before sitting down on the bed next to me.
"I guess that's why it's so..." she trailed off, and then shrugged. "I dunno, babe, I just feel like you really care about me, right now."
By now, my brain had gotten started enough for me to nod, and before I say anything else, I set the bowl back down on my desk and get up, making my way towards the bedroom door.
"...I'll be right back."
She nodded, herself, and went back to ignoring the TV to play with her phone like she likes to do. I use the time it takes for me to pad down the hallway and into the kitchen for my water bottle to think about what she’d just said. I knew she was saying I'd gotten up just in time to be able to give her a ride to work, and she probably expected me to do it for her now that I was awake - but truth be told, I still wasn't sure if I was really capable of it at that moment. I'd gotten a lot done earlier in the day while she was sleeping (okay, "a lot" is being a bit generous, but if you were dealing with my condition these days you'd be impressed with yourself, too), and I wasn't entirely sure if I had it in me for one last push, today.
A lot of what I'd managed to do was the sort of thing most folks would consider pretty trivial, to be sure; a lot of it had to do with refilling some prescriptions, and going through some messages from (and making an appointment with) my primary care, whom I probably haven't talked to in about a year, now. But it didn't change the fact that it all still needed to be done, and afterwards, I made myself a nice sandwich and sat in the sun on the patio with the cat.
Don't get me wrong - I felt pretty good about my day, all things considered, and that's all not to mention the lots of nice little things that had happened while I was doing them - but even after taking a nap while she worked at her desk next to me, I was still exhausted. The last few days have been taxing, to say the least.
I've been dressing up a little and wearing more makeup more often the past day or two, for little reason other than “the weather is nice and I feel like it”, and as I sit here now - or rather, later - on the same patio, smoking a cigarette after dropping her off at work, for the briefest moment, things feel the most "normal" as they ever have in a long time, now. It's a strange normalcy, to be sure - there's an almost palpable feeling in the air tonight: a not-quite-nostalgic memory of "the good old days", along with an almost wistful acknowledgement of the baggage that comes with knowing that those days are long behind you, and the ones you have left are all that you actually have to make something good out of.
I take another drag, and for a second it's almost like I'm back in college again, meeting my girlfriend for the first time - only this time, both of us have the weight of years of living both on our own and together on our shoulders, for all the good and bad that implies.
Nothing in my life is going “well” right now. Not my personal finances, my relationship with my parents, my job prospects and yes, despite the work I said I got done today, even my attempts at getting the attention I need to keep moving forward on the long road to "recovery", whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean to me or anyone else by this point, anyway.
I could have even lost her, too; I’ve never felt closer to it than I did a few nights ago, and I think, or at least hope, that she knows that I know that. Things are, as they say, in many more ways than one, "still pretty much tits up."
...And yet some way, somehow, I can say with confidence that this is probably the happiest I've been in a very long time.
The sun is going down now, and the temperature is dropping. I can feel the wind blowing against my hair, and as I lean over and pick up the cup of tea next to me and take a sip, I notice the reflection of a plane flying high in the sky above on the surface of the hot liquid. The steam fogs my glasses enough that soon, I can't see it anymore - but of course, I know it's still up there.
I know I can't see the stars, either, even though the sun's light has faded enough now to allow for it, but it's a feeling I have in my heart. It's a feeling that makes me believe in a lot of things I couldn't have believed in just a week ago. And that's when it finally hits me:
This what she had been saying to me the whole time.
She's spent the entire time we've been together working for the two of us, and even though she wasn't looking for me to acknowledge it, and probably didn't really expect me to anymore, I know my girlfriend - and I know what she likes.
I knew I couldn't always give it to her, but even after spending the last few hours of the day not really looking at me nor expecting anything from me, and knowing full well that I probably still didn't do quite as much as I needed to do today, she still loved me. She still wanted the best for me, and for the two of us.
And, well - of course, that's what made me love her, too.
I don't know what else will happen today, and I don't know what will happen tomorrow. But as I go inside, get in the shower, and begin to get ready to make something for dinner, I feel myself smile, and for once feel like I mean it.
I know the sun is still going down. It's still going to be a long night.
But this time, I think I can say I have a feeling it's going to be a good one. ⁂