He’s still not looking at me. I hold him tight whilst leading him gently through the hallway to the kitchen. I know she is there. I don’t hear her, I don’t see her, but I feel her. I also feel for her. He is her prince and I am a thief. Stealing him from her.
I see her for the first time. His mom. Monica. Completely clueless, staring at the dishes. Focussing on herself in an attempt to control the situation. I see the resemblance. He is so like her. Withdrawing from the world and trying not to go where it is awkward and difficult.
I want to hold onto him forever but I have to let go. I give his arm a little squeeze and I step back. Give them their space. They start talking their language. In words I do not understand and in ways I do not know.
All I can do is hope that she feels it. How I make him laugh. How I shelter him from harm. Nobody understands him better than I do. I need to trust him. That he knows how true I am. How we are meant to be. Nobody loves him like I do.
I revert back to what I do best. Make coffee. It might sound trivial, unimportant. But where I come from special moments are sealed with coffee. The start of a new day, espresso. A deal over a business lunch, americano with grappa. A quarrel, macchiato. The perfect dinner, foamy cappuccino. Sex, espresso again.
Macchiato it is. I hand Monica the cup and hope she will acknowledge my presence, but she’s still looking at the dishes. I put the coffee next to her. I think she took a peak, but I can’t be completely sure. Her shoulders relax though and she turns around facing us. It is not because of the coffee. It’s because of him. Something he said. Something to make it less awkward and easier.
She looks at him as if she always knew he wasn’t going to be around forever. Her face changes. I can’t read her, I don’t know whether it softens or hardens. Finally he looks at me. Exactly the way he did the very first time. I was then as I am now happy and lost, all in just one heartbeat. He steps away from her. He’s speaking in words I now do understand.
She looks at him. She looks at me. And she smiles a thousand smiles.