I don’t know what happened.
I open the comparatively short playlist we share that’s called Someone Else’s Bed, and I find it places us somewhere without a rearview mirror. What came before? I open the playlist before it, which is longer and so much less about things we shared together and more what we shared with others that we could sparsely report to the other. I’m listening to the last song you added to it. It’s called Clipped Wings.
I don’t know what happened, Brad.
How much history do we have, really? I think about 1997 and I don’t fucking understand the boy I fell in love with or the girl I was who did. I don’t care about those kids, but I’m glad they cared about each other. I’ve made all these little concessions for things I’ve felt, to try to keep my life honest. I’ve been taking care of myself, in a way. No, I didn’t lose my virginity to Brad, I lost it to Nick. I lost it to Clyde. I lost it to Evie, I lost it to myself. Someone took it, no one wanted it. BRAD DID IT.
I don’t know what happened, you know, because four days ago, we were not married. We were not even considering the other to be more than… a nice moment when the right moment could be nice. I considered you to be the thing I welcome a small chance to connect to. If some turn of the tide will allow for my figuring of how we figure. Brad, how do you figure? How do I…
I’m desperate for you every second. What’s that about?
I held you between my thighs last night. I straddled you and bent to kiss you.
“Bonnie and Brad,” I say to you, you lacing all your fingers with mine. All your fingers with mine, which means nothing but the biology of the thing. Your fingers, bigger and rougher than mine, slip between the ones smaller and plumper than yours. Bonnie and Brad. My hair is medium length and stringy and orange and falls to hide our faces when I bend to kiss you again. Yours is shorter and brown with pieces of dishwater that lay away from your face. When I sit up again, my thighs are heavy and warm around your hips, thinner than Clyde’s but thicker than Adam’s. The blue of your eyes is weak with something like a question dancing inside them.
What do you want to know?
I squeeze your biceps with my little hands, my arms stretched tight, and you tickled the backs of them with your fingertips.
I don’t know what happened. The skin of your face, your eyebrow under a stroke of my thumb. Brad. Listen, please. I don’t know what happened.
There are love spells, I’ve.. I’ve heard. Adam, he said he was working on one. Eve said she was helping. Did we become rats for them? There’s love at-first-sight in fairytales. Did we just see each other for the first time? There is a goddess of love who is said to invoke romance around her. Gypsy just came home, is she doing this somehow? Clyde, he’s got a brutish cook inside him with tiny white wings and spattering grease to burn little holes in the science of free will. Did we drink something we shouldn’t have?
When I said I wanted to stay with you, I was not concerned with what it might look like. When I said I wanted to stay with you, that was what I meant to say. How long has it been since we’ve said what we meant to say? Maybe not long but this is different. I feel like you stole me. I feel like you stole me and not in a cute way like hey I’m going to fuck your girlfriend and she’s going to love it. What happened is you saw me and you wanted me and I told you I could belong to you and you said you want me to, and now, we’re are married and we live together because yes, that makes sense. I want to be in your arms so bad right now I can hardly think straight.
You took me away and you did it because you saw who I was, and Brad, I think you saw that I’ve always seen who you are. What I need more than anything is to be seen and to be loved and you need the same thing. I know who you are, I know who you are, I know you. I know you. I know you. I know you. I know you. I know you. I know you. You know me. Why do I know this now? Why now? You’re asking yourself the same thing, and the only reason I know that is because of how you look at me like you don’t know where I came from but it must be someplace beautiful.