Brutalist Stories #18

Neither of us dare mention it, but it lurks there, between us in the ether. Somewhere it rests in our minds, sometimes at the front, sometimes at the back, but the idea of saying it and making it concrete, making it like this place, solid and real, we daren’t, not yet.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, and I smile.

I knew a guy once, he was seeing a girl, they got along great, everything seemed to be working out, but the next time I saw him he said they’d split up, I asked why and he said she asked the wrong question. So, I say to him, what was the question? And he says; "What are you thinking?"

I get it. It’s a level of closeness, it’s that thing that’s in your mind when you’re that close to someone, that connection comes, the wavelengths meet and you’re no longer concerned with your own thoughts. That’s just it, you want to know what they’re thinking instead of having any concern with what’s in your own mind, and it can be worrying because you’re beginning to lose yourself, in them.

“I dunno,” I reply and pull my arm around her and lay her head on my chest and close my eyes and let the morning sun wash over me, over us.

“You dunno?” I can feel the smile move her face on my chest.

“Yeah, nothing in particular, you know, just day dreaming.” I get the question, and I don’t think it’s the wrong question, not at all, but I’m not sure about my answer, not just yet. Do I want to let her in, or is this enough? It lurks there, the idea of love, between us, but neither of us dare mention it and the question, it’s an easy out. It gives off the signals but doesn’t delve too deep.

“You can’t be like that,” she says and wriggles. “Come on, you must be thinking of something,” and of course I am, but I can’t relay this thought, it’s too meta, the overlay of thinking about what I should be thinking about when she ask the question.

Maybe that means it’s not time, it’s not right. Maybe this is enough? To lay here, in each other’s arms, the sun cascading through the blinds, shadows lined across the concrete, holding on, to each other, and both of us thinking the same thing, but neither of us wanting to admit it.

What would it bring, where would it lead? What do I want? And more importantly, what does she want? How can I know? How can I be sure? I smile at the thought, there’s always the question. So, I ask; “What are you thinking?” And hold my breath, which way will it go?

“I’m thinking…” The cheeky pause. What do I want her to answer? Will she dare say it, what lurks? “Oh, you know, nothing in particular.”

No, not today. That’s the answer, and it is enough, this is enough, for today. The sun, her warmth and smile. Maybe we’ll ask again tomorrow, maybe it’ll be a different answer.

Building inspiration: Hemeroscopium House