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Just say good night to u

October 16, 2012 by  
Filed under love stories

Nothing happened, just say “good night”

I open the door, prepared to be cross with him but he launches himself at me out of the midnight darkness, all wild hair and leather and bone crushing hugs and I can’t remember why I was mad in the first place.

“Okay. You’re going to have to figure out how to move around the house with me hugging you because I am not letting you go,” he declares in that adorably boyish manner of his.

“B-b-but! I have to go to the bathroom!” I cry in mock distress as we begin shuffling down the hall to the bathroom.

“Fine, but this is the only time I am letting you go,” and he actually looks miffed that he has to stop hugging me. How can someone be so masculine and roguish, but still so adorable?

Self consciously, I use the bathroom, wondering how weird he’d think I was if I told him that I don’t like to use public bathrooms because I am afraid of other people listening to me pee. I walk out into the hall and he isn’t there, and my heart sinks a little. He always shows up in a swirl of energy and light that takes my breath away and makes me wonder if I am dreaming. I feel better when I spot him standing in my living room. He crosses the distance between us in two long-legged strides, and resumes embracing me.

“I will get it back,” he whispers softly, “I’m just letting you know. I will get it back. I will prove to you I am a good man.”

I want to tell him I know that he is, that he just struggles with his nature. I want to tell him that if he works at it he will defiantly earn my trust back. I want to tell him that I love him so much, but all of this seems not to be the right thing to say so I just return his hug.

“Okay, Kitty. What do you want to do now?” he asks enthusiastically. It had been a long day, and really all I longed to do is curl up in my bed with him and sleep soundly. I tell him as much in a roundabout way and we shuffle off to my bedroom.

“I am not going to let you go this whole night!” he says as he lets go of me to remove his backpack.

“But you just did!” I cry laughingly, sticking my tongue out at him over my shoulder. He looks legitimately distressed and grabs me again.

“See? Ryan always lets things go when he doesn’t mean to. And then when he lets them go he realizes what he did and he goes home and he’s like ‘WHY DID I DO THAT?’” he whispers and I suddenly understand the deeper meaning behind it. I want to cling to him and cry. I want to ask him never to let go of his Kitty again. That no matter what shittiness we go through, I don’t want to be anyone but HIS Kitty.

In the darkness he settles in behind me, holding me close to him, the position we always start out in when we sleep next to each other. I feel safe snuggled up against his long, lithe body, his scent enveloping me. It’s warm and comfortable with him in my bed, and I feel for the first time since that shitty day truly at peace. It’s a warm glow in the middle of my body.

“I know I’ve been a butthole. Like, the biggest butthole ever…” he begins.

“Like Goatse?” I joke.

“No. Bigger. Like if Goatse and Mr. Hands somehow had an offspring, that’d be me,” I try not to giggle and wake up the baby, but I am having a hard time of it. I marvel at how no matter what; we always end up back here. No matter how serious the conversation, no matter how bad we felt, we always laugh through it together. He feels like coming home every time.

“Nu-uh! Stoppit!” I whisper back.

“I know I don’t always show it, but I really do love you, Kitty. I love you so much,” he presses his nose against the nape of my neck, his forehead against the back of my head; he squeezes me tightly to him like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

“I love you too, Ryan,” and I wonder if he can hear the quiver in my voice, so unlike me. I wonder if he realizes just how much he means to me. How happy he makes me. How no matter what happens I don’t ever want to be without him again. Because, just like that Atmosphere song that we both love: No matter where I go, no matter what I do, I’m always coming back home to you. Because I pray that if I keep being persistent then one day he will trust me, he will realize that I treat him better than anyone else because I value him.

I roll over to face him, and he automatically rolls on to his back to cradle my head on his broad shoulder. He hugs me tightly; I rest my hand on his chest over his heart so I can feel it beat.

“I’m so HAPPY!” he cries with that charming smile of his spreading across his handsome face.

“Why?” I ask smiling back because seeing him smile makes me want to smile too.

“Because you are facing me,” and my heart skips a beat because his voice is so cute and I am touched that such a small thing pleases him.

“You know something? This is my favorite place to be,” I confess. And it is. I love pressing my nose into his neck while he hugs me tightly to him, the way he sleeps on his back even though he doesn’t like to just so he can hold me like this, the way we keep giving each other little kisses throughout the night when one of us shifts a bit. I don’t know how I could ever be this happy again if I didn’t have these moments with him.

“Can I hold your hand?” he asks with a little quiver in his voice too. As I slip my hand into his I think ‘Please hold my hand through everything.’

True to his word, he didn’t let me go that whole night. Even when I got up to use the bathroom (and I did a lot, because our son is getting heavier and he moves around a lot now), his hand would seek out mine and squeeze it tightly.

“Where is my Kitty going? Don’t go,” he would say without even waking up. His voice sounding small and lost.

“Just popping by the restroom, love. I’ll be back,” and he’d let go of my hand, but then grab my shirt as soon as I stood.

Each time I came back he’d be a bit more awake, pulling back the comforter for me, greeting me with open arms.

“Come back to me, Kitty!” and I knew in my heart I always would, because once you feed a stray, it never leaves.


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