update from sparkleup
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Madison Scott-Clary
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<p>After all, it could also just be lingering expectation.</p>
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<p>I met up with Kay an hour or so after I checked in to my room — enough time for me to shower and change clothes. The sent of the bus still lingered in my nose, but that may have just been my imagination.</p>
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<p>I wish I could say that it was some joyous reunion, but instead, it was just as though we had picked off from where we had been after our call the night before. We said hi to each other without fanfare and simply walked to dinner. She had picked out some sandwich place that she said she frequented for lunch<sup id="fnref:lunch"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:lunch">5</a></sup> which was perfectly acceptable fare.</p>
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<p>I wish I could say that it was some joyous reunion, but instead, it was just as though we had picked off from where we had been after our chat the night before. We said hi to each other without fanfare and simply walked to dinner. She had picked out some sandwich place that she said she frequented for lunch<sup id="fnref:lunch"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:lunch">5</a></sup> which was perfectly acceptable fare.</p>
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<p>Afterwards, we walked around a nearby park. Perhaps by virtue of how well-tended it was, it was something of a shock to be dropped into green after all the drabness of the city and the brown of the landscape before that. I will not deny my pleasure briefly cutting through grass to walk beneath trees rather than just padding always along sidewalks.</p>
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<p>We walked and we talked.</p>
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<p>At first, it was awkward and somewhat stilted as we subconsciously renegotiated our interactions with each other in the embodied world. It is easy enough to chat or not when one is bound to a screen. Even voice-only communication is different when one can mute oneself, or only be heard when hitting a key on the keyboard.</p>
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<p>Eventually, though, we fell back into old patterns. Despite our daily conversations over text or voice, there was a surprising amount to catch up on once we both opened up again. Kay spoke about her time in her masters program, how it differed in structure from her undergrad, the ongoing struggles of finding others to perform her works. I talked about settling into my practice and how I was able to get my full license, about my patients (anonymously, of course), and about my own therapy.</p>
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<p>Despite this catching-up, the conversation was all so quotidian. I can’t think of any other way to put it, but we just talked about “normal” things. What else could we talk about with each other?</p>
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<p>I suppose we could talk about feelings, but walking through the park on the very first evening that I was there, looking forward to a week of time in close proximity, such as it were…well, it did not feel like the right time to bring any of that up.</p>
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<p>I am unsure of how to process this first night just yet. The anxiety that I was feeling beforehand, as well as the slowly unwinding tension as we began to speak more freely seems to have taken much of the worries about my feelings for her off my mind, and I was simply focused at first on recalculating what level of masking was required around her, and later on the sheer mundanity of our catching up. I am left wondering what that means, if it means anything. Perhaps it is a habit thing — we fell back into our usual patterns — but more likely it means nothing. We’re friends, we talked like friends, and that’s it.</p>
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<p>I am unsure of how to process this first night just yet. The anxiety that I was feeling beforehand, as well as the slowly unwinding tension as we began to speak more freely seems to have taken much of the worries about my feelings for her off my mind, and I was simply focused at first on recalculating what level of masking<sup id="fnref:masking2"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:masking2">6</a></sup> was required around her, and later on the sheer mundanity of our catching up. I am left wondering what that means, if it means anything. Perhaps it is a habit thing — we fell back into our usual patterns — but more likely it means nothing. We’re friends, we talked like friends, and that’s it.</p>
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<p>I did at least learn that she’s single, so there is that.</p>
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<p>Kay has taken a few days off of work while I am out here, but we wound up intentionally leaving plans fairly loose.</p>
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<p>I do not know her reason for doing so, but if I am honest, I left plans open ended because I was not sure what we are, or what our dynamic would look like until I arrived here. Are we just friends? Are we on to something more? Is it weird for friends to go out to a nice dinner? A movie ought to be fine, but should that influence the genre?</p>
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<p>I wrote yesterday that we were friends, that we talked like friends, and that that was it because that might indeed be the dynamic of our relationship, I still must contend with these strange and awkwardly shaped feelings for her. I cannot say whether or not it would be weird for me to suggest a nice dinner for the both of us<sup id="fnref:money"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:money">6</a></sup> or going to see a romantic film because I cannot say whether or not this unavoidable set of emotions will make it so.</p>
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<p>I wrote yesterday that we were friends, that we talked like friends, and that that was it because that might indeed be the dynamic of our relationship, I still must contend with these strange and awkwardly shaped feelings for her. I cannot say whether or not it would be weird for me to suggest a nice dinner for the both of us<sup id="fnref:money"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:money">7</a></sup> or going to see a romantic film because I cannot say whether or not this unavoidable set of emotions will make it so.</p>
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<p>Either way, I have my list of suggestions and she has mentioned that she has a few ideas of her own, so I suspect that the open-ended nature of our plans won’t lead to excruciating boredom or anything like that.</p>
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<p>Today went well enough, on that note. I slept in, knowing that she would do the same, and stopped by that same café once more for a leisurely coffee and pastry while I waited for her to text me that she was up and about. She gave me the address of her building and the door code to get in, as well as a coffee order, so I topped up my drink and picked up hers in order to head over. It was a pleasant enough walk, as the day had yet to heat up.</p>
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<p>She greeted me at the door in a rumpled tee and pair of shorts, smiled sheepishly at her unready state, and gestured me into her apartment.</p>
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<p>She greeted me at the door in a wrinkled tee and pair of shorts, smiled sheepishly at her unready state, and gestured me into her apartment.</p>
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<p>It was a single rectangular room: bed in one corner, desk against the wall next to it, breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the rest of the space, not so far removed from a dorm room, minus the fact that she had her own bathroom and closet rather than being forced to share with others.</p>
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<p>A rumpled bed, a messy desk and the almost overwhelming scent of <em>her</em>. I made it two steps into the room and my mind ceased to function. I might as well have grown talons and wings, for all I know, for all I could do was stand there, coffees in hand, and try and blink away memories and too-strong emotions. I remembered her scent as though a lingering thing, faded touches cheek to cheek within my dreams. I remembered it, but I did not remember its strength, it’s depth, it’s overwhelming <em>her</em>-ness. It was inescapable, unavoidable, permeating and so much more than any lingering dream could ever hope to encompass.</p>
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<p>A rumpled bed, a messy desk.</p>
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<p>And the almost overwhelming scent of <em>her</em>. I made it two steps into the room and my mind ceased to function. I might as well have grown talons and wings, for all I know, for all I could do was stand there, coffees in hand, and try and blink away memories and too-strong emotions. I remembered her scent as though a lingering thing, faded touches cheek to cheek within my dreams. I remembered it, but I did not remember its strength, it’s depth, it’s overwhelming <em>her</em>-ness. It was inescapable, unavoidable, permeating and so much more than any lingering dream could ever hope to encompass.</p>
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<p>It’s a wonder I was able to hand her the correct coffee.</p>
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<p>I must have had some strange look on my face, as part way through the sip of her mocha, she tilted her head and lowered her cup.</p>
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<p>“Everything alright, Dee?”</p>
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<p>I raced through the masking checklist, realized that my whiskers were bristled almost uncomfortably far, my ears were laid flat, I was blinking rapidly, and my tail was tip-tapping about anxiously. I immediately felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, which I did my best to hide behind what I hoped was a bashful expression. “Yeah, sorry,” I managed.</p>
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<p>She frowned all the same and put down her coffee, padding over to the window to wind it open a short ways. “Sorry, maybe should’ve sprayed some block. I bet it stinks in here.”</p>
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<p>“No!” I said, realized that sounded forceful, and added, “No, sorry. Just kind of smells like you, is all, and I feel like I got punched in the face with memories from school.”</p>
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<p>“No!” I said, realized that sounded forceful, and added, “No, sorry. Just smells like you, is all, and I feel like I got punched in the face with memories from school.”</p>
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<p>At that, she laughed, though she did leave the window open, a trimmer chattering beneath her window marring her scent with traces of exhaust. “Well, good ones, I hope. Still, I’m sorry it’s such a mess.”</p>
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<p>“It’s fine, Kay, really. Just random memories–” <em>Tell her, tell her, tell her,</em> some part of my mind was urging. It had Jeremy’s voice. “–like going to concerts, or your senior recital.” <em>Tell her!</em> the voice shouted, pounded on the walls, clawed at my insides, all while half-truths spilled from my lips.</p>
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<p>And then, the moment was past.</p>
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<p>I had leaned back into the computer chair, which had creaked under my weight, and peeked over at some of the papers on her desk — impenetrable sheet music, for the most part. “Sorry? For what?”</p>
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<p>“Just rambling, I guess.”</p>
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<p>“Goodness, no, you’re fun when you ramble,” I laughed. “I guess I got kind of awkward there, sorry, didn’t mean to pry through your papers.”</p>
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<p>She relaxed back against the wall and let her shoulders slump, holding the coffee in both hands now, tail relaxing from where it had curled around protectively. “Right, yeah. Sorry. I have some folks who very visibly lose interest.”</p>
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<p>She relaxed back against the wall and let her shoulders slump, holding the coffee in both hands now, tail relaxing from where it had curled around protectively. “Right, yeah. Sorry. I have some folks at work who very visibly lose interest.”</p>
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<p>“I’m still interested, promise.” I smiled as disarmingly as I could and made an attempt to focus through the scent that still tickled its way through my mind.</p>
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<p>“Well, thanks,” she said, smiling lopsidedly. “I feel kind of weird because, like…um. I mean this in a good way, but I kinda forgot how awkward you are, and remember that I’m awkward as hell too, and that I can just be my awkward-ass self around you ‘cause you’re always listening at a hundred percent or whatever, and if you’re uninterested you’ll just change the subject and…”</p>
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<p>She trailed off and averted her eyes over to the kitchen, focusing on a wayward glass. All the last had come out in a rush of justifications, half-apologies, and self-deprecation.</p>
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<p>The library, natch. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:work" title="Jump back to footnote 4 in the text">↩</a></p>
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<li id="fn:lunch">
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<p>The part of me which has been so focused on memories writing this journal makes me wonder if this was an intentional callback to our shared lunches back in Sawtooth. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:lunch" title="Jump back to footnote 5 in the text">↩</a></p>
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<p>The part of me which has been so focused on memories writing this journal teamed up with that part always on the lookout for hidden meaning to make me wonder if this was an intentional callback to our shared lunches back in Sawtooth. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:lunch" title="Jump back to footnote 5 in the text">↩</a></p>
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<p>The hypervigilant psychologist part of me cannot stop thinking in these terms, and the part of me striving for emotional connection loathes that. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:masking2" title="Jump back to footnote 6 in the text">↩</a></p>
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<li id="fn:money">
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<p>The fact that I am working full time in a reasonably well-paying position while Kay works in a library to fund her living expenses while taking out further student loans means that I fully intend on paying for most everything while I am out here. I really hope that doesn’t make her feel awkward, or, heaven forbid, like I am trying to buy her attention. This is all so difficult. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:money" title="Jump back to footnote 6 in the text">↩</a></p>
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<p>The fact that I am working full time in a reasonably well-paying position while Kay works in a library to fund her living expenses while taking out further student loans means that I fully intend on paying for most everything while I am out here. I really hope that doesn’t make her feel awkward, or, heaven forbid, like I am trying to buy her attention. This is all so difficult. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:money" title="Jump back to footnote 7 in the text">↩</a></p>
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