beginning

It raises an unexpected jealousy that I do not believe I would feel if he gave a picture of a girl like I was imagining. Losing a person like Angelina Jolie is one thing, but losing to someone like me is another. I remind myself that it was not a competition, then turned off the electric shade on my head and asked, "Where did you and Carol meet?" Leo cleared his throat, as if thinking about the truth, but then This, of course, makes me happy. "Come on," I pressed, hoping it was a matchmaking affair - which I believe is the truth. Standing at the foot of the totem pole of love. "Okay," he said. "We met at the bar ... on the hottest night of the year ... at least in New York." "New Year's Eve?" I said, smiling, pretending not to feel bitter aftertaste. Near, "Leo said, winking. "St. Patrick's Day." I smiled, thinking about how I shared my dislike of March 17th. "What? What happened to you? You do not love the game all night rolling around the bustling bars? "I said. "Coughing and singing and drinking beer for the morning?" "Sure," Leo said. "As much as I love all the boys in Shanghai, I vomit all over the Sixth." I laughed. "In a nutshell, what did you do on St. Patrick's Day?" "I understand. Surprised ...? I still will not win in any competitive world, but I think I was not too hard nearly before ... He thought Irish friends that night convinced him ... "I try to resist Wanted to say, More than I can do, and just ask, "And Carol? Is she Irish? "" That kind of thing. British, Scottish, Irish. "And then he added, as if harassing," She's from Vermont. "I tried to smile, but in my heart she shivered, imagining Carol jerking off the door of the warehouse. Hang on a dry autumn day, proud to show how milk cow to his boyfriend from the big city ... both laughed as he seemed unable to grasp the skill ... milk shot on the face He before he flopped away from a wooden bench wilted to fall into grassland ... she poured over him, pulling out work clothes ... I dispelled that scene and allowed myself to make a last entry into the story of Carol. "What is she doing?" I asked. "To make a living?" "She does science," he said. "A medical researcher at Columbia University ... She studies arrhythmias." "Oh," I say, impressed the way I think ordinary people feel about the brain people. the problem - and vice versa. "Oh," Leo said. "She is very casual." I looked at him, waiting to hear more, but he obviously ended the conversation about Carol. Then he crossed his legs and spoke in an attitude that seemed deliberately cheerful. "It's my turn. Tell me about Andy. "That was a difficult question to answer, even if I was not talking to my ex, so I smiled and said," I know you're a reporter - and Very loving open questions - but can you be more specific? What do you want to know? "Leo said," Okay. I want to be specific ... Let's see ... Does he like board games? "I laughed, remembering Leo never played that game with me. "Yes," I said. "Ahhh. Good for you too, "Leo said. I smiled, nodded and said," What else? "" Mm ... Did he skip breakfast - or believe it was the most important meal of the day? "" Later. "Leo nods as if remembering. Does he believe in God? "" Yes, "I said. "That's great ... And ... does he have ... to talk to someone with the plane?" "Sometimes," I say, smiling. "But generally not with ex-girlfriends. As you know ... "Leo glanced at me shyly, but not biting. Instead, he sighs and says, "Okay ... What about this? ... My husband seemed really surprised when he turned on the Coke Coke and realized, damn, Did not win this time '? "I laughed. Too exciting! I say. Because there! He's hoping to win ... He's a lifelong optimist. "" So, "Leo said. "Looks like I've found myself a great guy, Ham-game-player, Chat, Fear-Lord, Drunk-half." I laughed, but then worried that I just Lowering Andy by Leo's questioning game - or, worse, degrading his real worth. So I ended up with a very definitive statement about my feelings. "Yes. Andy is a great guy. A really good person ... I'm so lucky. "Leo turned around in the chair and looked at me, his smile quickly disappearing. "He's also very lucky." "Thank you," I say, feeling my face warm. "Really," he said. "Ellen ... I do not know how to let you go ..." I smiled at him, feeling extremely embarrassed in wonder as I wondered why such a simple saying could be at the same time peaceful. Ironing both happy and anxious cause so much. Finally cThings got worse - and better - when Leo leaned back and placed his hand on the side of my arm that made our skin touch each other from elbow to wrist. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, feel the frost in my heart and blood vessels choke me. It was the feeling of wanting something so strong that almost the real need, and the power and urgency of that need engulfed me. I ordered myself to put my hands down, knowing that it was the right thing that I had to do. I can hear the cry inside my head - I am the newlyweds and I love my husband! But no use. I really can not force myself to retreat. I simply can not. Instead, I leaned back in parallel with his chair and opened my fingers, expecting despair that he would find them. He did, hesitatingly at first, our little finger touching, then slightly overlapped, then a little more, a bit more, as if a tide had pushed him towards me, covering up I wondered if he was still watching me through the darkness in the cabin, but I did not open my eyes, hoping the night would make me feel less guilty, . But the consequences are really the opposite - all the more realistic, more passionate, in the way that we can always sink deeper into an emotion when all other emotions are closed. Last but not least we were silent, while Leo was completely wrapped around my arm. Its weight and warmth remain as it was at the restaurant, the day of all this, but the gesture seemed quite different. This contact is not the aftertaste of conversation. It is a conversation itself. It is also an invitation. An invitation was accepted by me slowly moving my wrist slowly until my palms were up against his, and we held hands. I told myself it was a harmless gesture. Dear classmates holding hands. Parents and children holding hands. Friends hold hands. But not like this. Never like this. I listen to Leo's breathing, his face near my face, our fingers knit together, loosened, rearranged. And so we flew to the East, finally drifting, floating in the sky, at the same time, together. The next time was vague when I drowsily fell asleep. I listened to the flight attendants' announcements, but did not wake up until we started lowering the final altitude to the JFK airport. Shocked, I looked out the city lights outside the window, then turned to see Leo is still asleep, still holding my hand. His neck leaned down, his brother slightly curled up toward me, his face shining brightly in the cabin light. I turned around and remembered the dark beard that was around his chin; Both sides of the hair slightly shaggy; My nostrils along the coconut and eyelids drooping down his neck. My heart twitched when I suddenly felt that I was feeling as close as it felt in the morning after the first time we made love. That day I woke up before dawn like this, and could recall clearly that I was lying silently beside him, watching him sleep, his bare chest fluttering, and then I secretly asked, Now what is the next question? Now I ask myself the same question, but this time the answer is quite different. There is no hope at this time. This is not the

beginning, but the end. It's time to leave Leo's hand. It was time to say goodbye. A few seconds later, the plane landed abruptly. Leo opened his eyes. He yawned, sat up straight on the chair and smiled shyly. "Hi," he said, "Hi," I said softly. My throat is dry, but I can not say that it is thirsty or contains sadness. I want to get down to get a bottle of water in my purse, but I'm not really willing to break our relationship - and of course not with just a little water. " He asked, glancing at the dark runway outside the window. "It's coming," I say. "Six and thirty minutes ... We're coming soon." "Damn it," he said, his face reflecting the frenzy, the mess I was feeling. "Why are you?" I asked, I want to tell you that you can not believe we've arrived in New York and that it's time to start our new day. Our double life. He looked down at our hands clenched and said, "I know." I nodded and followed his gaze to our two muttering thumbs. . Then I squeezed his hand one last time before releasing it. The next few minutes, we followed everyone, hesitantly arranging things, holding up his jacket and stepped down the plane to the gate. We were silent, not saying a word until they both gave a glance outside the first toilet - a clear view that we were going to wait for each other.