“You’re insane.” I laugh. I should have guessed.
“But she could.”
“Stop.”
“Have you been practicing?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Fine, but you’re not getting any younger. And neither am I.”
“Noted.”
“Miguel?”
“Yeah.”
“You sound brighter.” She says quietly and I stop fitting lids onto the glass containers scattered around my counter.
“I feel brighter.” I admit.
“Keep chasing that feeling.” She says. “I’ll let you go, but you owe me a visit.”
“I know.”
“Te quiero.”
“Yo también, Mamá.”
I can picture her smile as the endearment crosses through the phone. Growing up I’d hear her sayte quieroto my dad and he’d respondyo también te quieromeaning I love you, too. My toddler brain skipped the second half of the sentiment and would simply reply withyo también.
And the phrasing stuck.
Honestly, I’m not sure what to tell my mother about Laney. We’re together nearly everyday for training.
After our bike ride, after one of the most sexually fulfilling nights of my life the night before, she asked me to drop her at home. Before I could muster the courage to ask her over again for dinner she told me she had plans for a girls night with Dee.
I spent my night fidgeting and pacing and finally going to workout in the gym downstairs. Then I found myself staring at the side of my bed where her body rested next to mine as sleep eluded me again.
Yesterday we met for a bike ride and a run and I joined her while she walked the dogs and then we parted ways so she could shower and get to work at Curryosity.
We’ve added physical intimacy to our relationship but I’m still keeping my past from her. And, I get the sense there’s a level of doubt under all her bravado. One she hasn’t fully accepted yet.
It’s a feeling I understand. But if she doesn’t see her successes so far as evidence she’s more than capable of rising to the top of the field, I’m not sure what will do it.
Instead of ruminating on her mindset because it frustrates me that she can’t see how amazing she is, I kept myself busy going down to Deja Brew to get an extra slice of the carrot cake she loves so much so she can enjoy it when she joins me for lunch after our workout today.
Imagining her surprised smile sets butterflies off in my stomach.
I slide into my training shoes and laugh at myself. I’m fucking screwed.
One night in my bed and my first instinct is to spoil her.
I have lost all control.
But I can’t seem to get upset about it. The euphoric rush of feelings associated with Laney and how well we do, well, everything together is new territory. I’m familiar with the high, the craving to feel it again, but I’m unfamiliar with the idea of sharing it with another person.
In the past, it was an escape. It was a solitary endeavor. I would collapse down on myself and search for what I thought freedom was.
