We are lovers. Lovers!
We can’t help this action since it happens on its own.
We’re going to be together.
* * * *
Friday. February something. My head is so drowned in Darsey that I lose track of the days.
“What are we going to do about Cliff?” I ask him, holding him against me after we make love.
I have to ask him this. It’s something we must talk about. Another reality check in the mess we’ve created. A responsibility that must be carefully tended to, like a garden of pesky weeds or moles or snails. It’s his seventh visit in the last eight days and, I’m sure, Cliff is beginning to question Darsey’s whereabouts. Our bodies are semi-covered by the freshly washed cotton sheet on my bed. We pant, sticky and sweaty. Spent. All we do is make love, eat, watch TV, talk, and laugh together.
