I am not in love with him. But I keep chanting it. Saying I love him over and again is how I bring attention to myself. You see I cannot afford love, I can only tolerate attention. Yesterday when I was in the restaurant he owns, we stood together in the kitchen and shared a cigarette. He asked me out. I refused because once I say, Yes, the chase will be over. I should catalog all the ways he has tried to approach me. Like a storm hitting a different window each time. You never know which one will give in. But every
opening is jammed with a casual and distant politeness. However, to his credit, he never takes his eyes off me and turns his head every time I pass by. It is erotic and makes me think that he daydreams about different situations in which I might say, Yes, or when he wants some strange pleasure like I do, he imagines us to be apart and one fine day, when we come face to face after all these years, I’d recognize something in his face and ask, Are you him? And he won’t stop nodding his head, Yes, yes, yes.
First appeared in Visceral Brooklyn