Love me, Loudly

by Jess Kolbe

  I wake suddenly. I’m awake, alone and cold. I call out “Sam!” He’s gone and there’s a note, a simple ‘goodnight.’ I smile and am grateful for the note as for a second. I thought he had deserted me again. I take myself and the note to bed, waking again to the buzzing of my phone. Its’ 6 am, wow, I must tell Sam that I’m more of a sunset than a sunrise lady and roll over to sleep some more.

  HIM | Twenty

  Evie initiates small talk. The desire of our kiss lingers, driving my want for her harder. It’s difficult to focus beyond her body. She is rambling and her nervousness feels amazing. She’s confident and yet so delicate and it’s the fragility that I hope to protect. The thought shocks me.

  Fuck, I really do like her.

  There’s fucking bucket loads of chemistry and she’s utterly captivating. Am I embarking on this with her? Is this love? Fuck.

  My thoughts are interrupted by Evie announcing I scare the shit out of her. Fuck, well, that is left of field! She feels so certain all the time. Her announcement makes me nervous. I’m caught like a deer in her headlights, while the smell of lasagne below my nose makes my taste buds dance and my stomach growl. I strain so hard to focus on Evie. Fuck, this feels too much. She wants to run away. I get that completely. It’s too instant, and it feels out of control. Wow, she’s honest. I think what she’s is telling me that it is okay for us to be in different places and have different ideas about where we are at.

  Fuck, she is just as messed up as me! I want to help her, make her feel safe. I get it, she’s right. It is overwhelming and I do get what she is saying but I’m not sure what to say to help. Evie starts to stumble over her words, and “I know” falls out of me. These emotions are full on and yes, it is what it is. I try to show her comfort and help us to relax. We both end up with a nervous laugh at our honesty and I see she is trembling. I want her to know that I hear her, and I don’t want her to think that I didn’t, so I attempt to convey that understanding.

  After dinner, we do the washing up old school and it feels nice. She’s still seems a little fragile, as am I, if I’m honest with myself. I want us to relax so I ask her to join me on the couch, encouraging her to lie down where she places her head in my lap. I watch her face as her eyes close slowly and she struggles to stay awake. Her hair falls over me, her hand on my knee. I play gently with her hair. Both she and the room smell of garlic, basil and tomatoes, her skin soft and smooth like silk. I’ve been playing with her hair and watching her for a while now and I wonder when is the point that it becomes uncomfortable? I’ve already stalked her, now I’m watching her sleep.

  When would a gentleman leave? Sliding myself away, I place a pillow under her head, managing to leave without waking her. Standing over her, I wonder what happened to her, what’s her pain? We clearly both have a story. Her comments on having a relationship with our losses, makes me wonder what that actually looks like.

  Driving home, I find myself telling Dad about Evie. Dad would say that for sure, she’s a keeper, I think. The conversation with him feels painful and the tears flow because I can’t be sure that is what he would say. There is a gaping hole in never being truly able to hear his voice. It has been a massive day, highs and lows and all throughout, the pain of Dad. I get home and Harold is waiting, looking up at me. I tell him and he barks in all the right places, then I tell him about Dad and that I’m going to talk to him. He turns and plants his arse on my foot which, I think, is him telling me this is a good idea. It’s enough for my thinking to diminish and feel like sleep is a possibility.

  HER | Twenty-one

  Unable to truly return to sleep, I get up and potter around the house, reliving all that has happened and the crazy lady who showed up at dinner last night. Did I even make sense? Dread forms a weight in the pit of my stomach while I’m dissecting everything. I need to shake it off, welcoming all the crazy that I am purging into my diary, so I can be a normal person. I recognise that my emotional hangover is here. Everything that I said to myself that I wouldn’t do, I’ve done at least twice today in my daydreams. I’ve married us, pictured him playing with our son and then found myself sobbing at the fears that repeat over in my head. Deep down, I know I am also washing off the emotions and stress off the last few days, so I stop resisting, jump into the shower and unleash all that I have down the drain. My thoughts loop on my decisions I’ve made and conversations with him that haven’t even happened. My head is doing a number on me and I’m panicked and feeling exposed, feeling like I’m too invested already and completely pissed at myself for feeling this way. Classic psycho! Part of me is loving it because I’ve never had this before. Feeling in full appreciation of having these thoughts and wondering, holy shit, how do I stop these thought patterns?

  The shower helps and the thoughts of actually appreciating these experiences with Sam, washes psycho down the drain. While in the shower, it came to me, that I should, write my experiences as I know it, even if it’s just a place for an anxiety dump or my fatal attraction to show up far, far, away from Sam.

  I don’t think I’m entirely crazy, otherwise I’d be telling my story to a head shrink within a facility with white or greenwash walls. Don’t ask me how I know the colour of the walls. You know how when you bring the inside thoughts out into the open, the value of them changes? Putting them into a voice or pen and they lose their power over you, as the importance of them becomes different, like saying them aloud. Well, for me it’s writing.

  I hold my lips together, close my eyes and dream of his mouth, his touch, those lips. Just to breathe him in, soaking myself amongst his strength. Imagining his hands on my hips, as my body surrenders to the thoughts of him capturing my womanly centre. That moment in the garage where he seized my hips, with my body instantly responding, my back arching, and I was against him. It was our bodies in control, the recognition of our souls reaching for each other and responding in kind. The sensation of him leaves a residual effect on me. Shudders pass through me at thought of him. As I stand, I take a moment to feel my body draped over him, the sense of soaking myself in his skin. I reach for my heart and engage the emotion allowing it to engulf me, encouraging the sensations to rise within me like a wave. Closing my eyes allows me to feel further into the pulsing energy moving around my body, as I feel him, I desire him so. I want that soul connection and a stirring occurs in the depths of me, I’m not even sure what I am asking for. My womanly self-rises, screaming for a lover, a man, a partner, an anchor. She’s raring to be unleashed, to be stroked and played with while terror plays its own song in the background.

  HIM | Twenty-two

  I’ve decided that the oldies of my life, Dad’s era, knew a little something so I have a plan. I can’t stay away! I tried that and it didn’t work, so I’m going to get to know Evie, slowly. I’m dealing with all these other feelings and it is overwhelming. The only thing I can think of is to help us both, is trying to be friends. My plan is that I’m not really sure about anything at the moment and jumping into a relationship feels too much. I want to listen to what Evie said: she is scared.

  Well, fuck, I am too. I can’t have her look at me like she did that day in her garage with those wounded eyes. I’m bringing out the big guns, going old school, in honour of a man who knew a thing or two, unhurried. We can see what develops with this amazing chemistry. It is so good for her to understand and, I think, be okay with us being in different places. She’s one of few that has helped me make sense of what is happening to me, along with Mum and Ruby. It feels like I’m closer to Dad now. Even though I lost my shit in front of Evie, I didn’t crack up, I didn’t lose control and she supported me. I feel like I finally accepted what has happened and let someone else see my pain. I let someone help me.

  Getting it all out has surprisingly helped me. I feel more in control and comfortable with my feelings being expressed. Dad was my first big loss, my first tragedy, I guess. How do you even know what the fuck to do?

  Evie didn’t try to fix it, she didn’t tell me to le
t go or even get over it. She kind of just witnessed me while I took the brakes off and hugged me when I needed it. In my weakest moment, I didn’t feel weak.

  With Evie, it felt good to just be. Beyond my genuine appreciation for what she has done for me, it worries me to think about what has happened to her, how she has suffered? How else could she know what was happening for me? It was foreign for me. I can’t see her look at me with pain, I don’t want to hurt her, and I want to explore a friendship.

  So, I’ve decided we are going to date, with all the trimmings of dating! Old school-like. We need to cool our jets and I want to respect her. To take things slowly, handholding at most. Five dates with the aim to get to know each other and have fun. We both need to slow things down. I want to be a good man and I have a fair idea on what that looks like and hope that I can live up to it. As I consider my plan, excitement and sheer terror builds in me, getting the shakes and all.

  I kind of laugh as it reminds me of Evie last night telling me she’s shit scared. Well, fairly sure we both are. Evie is utterly captivating and clearly has no idea how desirable she is. She’s a natural woman who feels comfortable with herself, which is sexy as fuck. I am really going to need to restrain myself from wanting to touch her and yet completely excited by developing desire with her.

  I ring her and formally invite her to dinner on Wednesday. She agrees, and it feels like we have a plan. Part of me wonders if I should tell her about my plan?

  I call the next woman I want to make it up to, my sister, Ruby, and demand she meets me for a beer and countie meal. I will not accept no for an answer. It’s something we haven’t done since Dad left us. She giggles and her response to my instruction is “Hi bro, nice to have you back!”

  Fuck, I love my sister. I want to apologise and tell her about what I have learnt and about loss and pain, and, of course, some of what has happened with Evie. I think it’s time to get my sister back, not that she’s gone anywhere, but I got lost in my grief and I want to change my course. Ruby has never steered me wrong. She will always tell me the truth even if it hurts and I am grateful that we have that level of honesty. Ruby and I go to our family pub, it’s basically Dads’ local. As we walk in, there are a few head nods and couple of handshakes and thoughts of Dad which feels nice, I think for both of us. As we head to the back for a quieter spot, two beers are delivered on the house. There is a silence between us first as we are both in our memories of Dad. I toast, “To Dad” as we drink.

  Ruby’s face is stunned. She says, “Sam, that’s the first time you’ve acknowledged Dad.”

  I ask if she feels okay if we talk about him. I see her swallow hard, clearly a family trait, followed by a gulp of her beer, as she nods in agreement. We both fall silent again into our memories. After some time, I look at Ruby and say, “Good talk!” We both laugh. I tell Ruby about what Evie had said and how it makes sense to me and that I wanted to tell her to continue to make sense of it and also to spend time together. To start trying to find a new us, without the big fella. The sound of big fella coming out is enough to choke us both up, the name lodging in my throat. We both have a few tears fall out, as another round is silently delivered to the table. I just love our local community out here.

  I tell Ruby how I’ve started talking to Dad and Harold. She tells me, I am bat shit crazy and she’s been doing the same, so we both are then. “There’s no rules to this Ruby, I’ve been struggling with what I am supposed to do, how this works and what I needed to be for everyone else. I also had no idea I could be in shock for this long. Fuck me, who would have thought this shit would even be coming out of my mouth? Rubes I want to share with you what’s been happening, and I am trying to not hide what I have been feeling. I was doing one day at a time, trying to get on with life, hiding everything. I’m forgiving myself and letting myself have a bat shit crazy relationship with my dead father and I finally don’t give a shit what that looks like. It is what I need, I want him to live on in us, Ruby, and how we keep loving Dad.”

  Ruby tells me that she thinks Dad is still around us. I encourage her to have whatever relationship she needs with him and let her know that I am here to listen. Ruby says she needs some time to chew on my new-found revelations and acknowledges it feels good to talk about him and how things have been for both of us. Rather than the pain of everything being endured separately. We also talk about Mum and I wait for Ruby to ask about Evie. It doesn’t take long, and she thinks that my idea is a great one and likes that it is something Dad would have done too. It feels good just to hang out and we have a few more beers, some food and we agree next time that Mum is coming whether she likes it or not. It’s strange. I feel like I have a way forward. Not that everything is squared away, but I have an idea on a way forward and I’m okay with not knowing the future.

  Evie and I have three very polite dates. I’m basically having cold showers before and after in order to not be a crazed horny teenager. I really don’t know what slow means when it is either too much, or not enough. She is so hard to read and ever so kind. She always askes about Mum and Ruby and really looks at me when she does. She is kind to everyone. I really like her. It is true in that there is a real friendship here. I love our banter, a sharp wit that feels playful, both of us testing the waters. She has a remarkable smile that she freely gives to everyone, from smiling to the old man walking his dog, to random people in a restaurant. The way her hair falls around her neck, the giggle that puts you at ease and her sharp mind. Wow, she is smart and difficult to keep up with.

  She’s people smart, and she’s got me sussed quickly. She tries to break her thinking down for me. I can see this will frustrate me, like she is giving an enormous amount of useless information. She only does it when she’s nervous. I notice her vulnerability, scaring me slightly. I’m desperate to connect with her and make it all go away and frightened that she needs more than I am. Sometimes in conversations she goes somewhere, like she checks out for a second or two before coming back. It’s hard to know if she is being considered or if there is something else happening. We have talked about Dad a lot, and it’s difficult and nice.

  She’s so easy to talk to, although it’s like she is thinking too much at times. I can’t put my finger on it, but sometimes I want her to relax. It’s like she is careful with me. Perhaps it’s because of Dad, I don’t know or maybe I’m still sensitive? I want to show her more of me, and I need to go to the farm, so I plan to invite her. Then she can see me, and me is the farm, that’s really where my heart is. The world can fall away there, and we can just be us. I also think it would be so good for her to relax, separate rooms and the whole nine yards. I am kind of worried that it might be too soon, too much and the aloneness of the farm will be wonderfully too much.

  I want to build her the outdoor bath she told me about. I want to appreciate her. I want to give thanks for how she has helped me, and whatever it is we are growing into.

  There is an old bath left from renos we did a while back, so it won’t be too difficult to do. I call Evie to invite her to the farm for the weekend. I have this entire reasoning behind why she should come and that there are plenty of rooms and no pressure whatsoever. I’ve practiced my speech about three times and before I can get any of it out. she’s like ‘please.’ My God, that is the sexiest word from her mouth and the tone in her voice lingers around me for hours.

  HER | Twenty-three

  We have a few more dates, a couple of coffees and getting to know you type dates, very safe and public. They are fun and so very normal. I’ve loved it! We’ve laughed so much.

  He is very structured and planned or maybe he’s trying to impress me? He seems so cool, calm and collected all the time, but I don’t know how. I meet Sam for breakfast. It’s one of our safe dates. I am super early, so I sit near my car before heading into the café. There was some commotion in the car park where an older gentleman is struggling with his car and trailer. Out comes Sam from the café, clearly a lot earlier than me. He offers to guide the man
and I can hear them talking to each other. Sam is so supportive and encouraging. Sam ends up jumping in and moving his car to make it easier for him. All I am doing is beaming a giant smile that I am dating a man who is this kind. Sam does this often, not like he goes out of his way, but if an opportunity presents, he assists, offering kindness when no one is watching without expectation of anything in return. It is simply what you do according to Sam, who is a man of integrity. It is daunting to hope to live up to and at the same time inspiring. Don’t get me wrong, he is not saving the world, but he wouldn’t turn a blind eye and that is such an important value of mine.

  During breakfast we have our first debate about politics, about the land and climate change. Thank God he is not a climate denier! At least we are on the same page there. However, what makes a difference and offers a way forward is that we are on differing ends of the spectrum and it felt good to have a heated discussion, watching our passions play out and feeling comfortable with disagreement. Our dates bring out a friendship and a playful banter that is igniting our fiery passions, feeling more like foreplay for the mind. Our playfulness continues for most of the date and it feels nice to explore the boundaries of us and also getting to see our true selves rather than presenting the best careful versions of ourselves because we want to be liked. In between normal banter there has been magical moments of long stares, where I’m caught in his eyes, holding space for our feelings. There is a lovely gentleness to us that I can’t find words to describe.