Leave of Absence

the philosopher is a grad student. he's writing his dissertation.

the philosopher is depressed. he needs to finish. he needs to focus. there's no time for kittens. he needs to take a break.

the philosopher tried to leave me.

i think i dissuaded him.
i held on through his tears, a mythic heroine outlasting the shape shifter, holding him close through dragon and snake. enchantment is hard to defeat with a cell phone, but i can be stubborn and maybe i won.

maybe.

i'm an expert in grad students.

ex-hubby #1 was a grad student. Harvard. he began his dissertation. the trash filled with crumpled paper in those days before PCs and recycling. depression descended. it coated the walls as well as his soul. there was nothing left for me.

one day the cloud lifted. surprise! didn’t there used to be a wife around here somewhere?

i'd been busy. i'd made new friends. i'd been learning to laugh.

i don't like neglect.

we were very young.
he was a nice man.
we loved each other.
depression is hard.
it wasn't his fault.
but it was too late.

ex-hubby #2 had a girlfriend. the one before me.

this ex-hubby was also a grad student. he broke up with his old girlfriend after a while. he didn't have time for her. he figured he'd get back with her later. meanwhile he had me for amusement, tossing me bits of time and sex like peanuts to the elephant. i devoured them gratefully, figuring that's all i was worth. counting myself lucky.

dissertation done, he broke up with me to get back with old girlfriend.

she laughed in his face. me, i wasn't that bright and again, gratefully, devoured the left-over peanuts. for twenty years.

we were a little less young.
he was not a nice man.
i loved him.
and this time, the depression was mine.
i don't like neglect.
but i took it.
and when the prison door opened, the damage was done.

still, stupidly, i thought there might be another chance for me. or maybe at the very least i'd get laid. but i wasn't that stupid. i made a list.

no academicians.
no musicians.

one out of two isn't bad...

so now i've got another grad student.
(or should i say, he now has me.)

but this time i have experience. i know what i'm in for. and i know the prize is worth playing for. so i accept the new rules. i accept the silent phone. i accept the stagnant inbox that was created just for him. i try not to cry. i don't want to be a burden. i want him to finish.

and i want to prove that this time i can get it right.
i WILL get it right.
eventually, we'll be together again.
and like before, it will be amazing.

let's not talk ages.
he's a very nice man.
it seems we're bashert.
i try not to cry.
and together we'll make it through.

- - - - -

i fall asleep on the couch and awake to find Marko stretched out on my legs. asleep himself, he is warm and soft and trusting. i reach down, touch his greyness, stroke his adoration, and wish that right now i could be that for you. that right now i could curl into you, warm and soft and trusting. our bond would transcend your struggles, our sleep would lick away your pain. somehow your closeness would fill me with peace and security. and somehow, through a magic as improbable as our meeting, i would breathe it all back into you.