Love's Anatomy : Eyes

ONE

— Open your eyes, Allie.

His voice was so far away. I felt I was underwater and he was somewhere on the surface, reaching down to me. I needed all of my strength to swim back to him, back toward the light, out of the warm current that was pulling me down and in, deeper, down and into myself. I needed more than strength; I didn't want to surface. His voice was far away. But he was right there, his wanting muscle straining so hard I could feel the tension and desire drawn in it. I felt the ridge of the head was slick, the ridge of the head had just spread my lips and stopped, where his hips met mine — that's when I closed my eyes. I couldn't keep them open if I tried. He asked me to try, I couldn't, I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't or I didn't want to, the current took me deeper it swallowed me and I surrendered, beautiful wave, embracing tide, I embraced the tide, down down down down.

— Allie, can you open your eyes? Right here...

That's when a golden cord inside of me began to unwind, when he used my name again, a golden cord that began at the base of my body, unwound from where he was entering me, where I was accepting him in, unwound like a powerful, sunlit snake. Reaching itself around my stomach and my heart, it's tail still there at the entrance to me, it stretched itself up behind my eyes, dangerous and lovely, came up to my thoughts and took them in its mouth and pulled me down. Pulled me down, oh god, I opened my mouth and gulped in shaking air before the plunge, and the cord rolled down and showed me the way, until the only thing in existence was the band of muscle there at the end of it's tail. The ridge of flesh, life inside of it, drew back so slightly, until the firm smooth edges touched me all the way around, one ring circling another, my ring tightening around his ring, my diving into the beautiful darkness, being drawn into the warm darkness... and his voice came to me there, I can't believe he found me, so far under water, I couldn't believe he brought my name to me so far under.

— Allie! he whispered. — It's all right.

His breath was on my lips; I felt his breath first, then felt my lips. I could hear a smile in his voice, what a gentle voice, but strong, this man was much stronger than I thought. I thought the men who could bind me with their arms were strong, no, that was nothing, this man was stronger than I thought. The circle of my body pulsed once against his strength, then opened, what was held I released, as though opening my hand, and I felt his beautiful muscle inside of me still, while I climbed that cord back up to my heart, then to my head. I felt the heat of his body along the length of mine. I felt his eyes on me... I could feel his eyes on me, calling to me, and I opened my eyes, they were full of tears, I opened my eyes and looked right into his, as if surfacing I had broken the waves and was staring right up into the face of the sun, the smile he wore widening into a grin, I don't think he could help it either, and he said my name again smiling like that, and then said nothing, smiling, and moved his hips so slightly, so that cord tightened and yanked at my eyes again, and I had to open them wide, wide as I could not to lose the sun, and breathed deep, all the way from the head of the snake to its base and back again to its head, stretched up high behind my eyes, and then I could see clearly again, just then I could see clearly, how hard he was working to keep his eyes open for me as well, look at his struggle, his smile, he was trying hard to keep his eyes open for me for me for me for me I let out a small cry or a laugh who could tell which and held my eyes open on the embers of his to be burned blind or be burned beautiful and his smile somehow got wider than it already was until neither of us could help anything but share our eyes our eyes and then without a word we said yes and as slowly as time we moved our hips toward each other and my god into each other one cell of our flesh before another as electric currents ran in circles from me to him to me to him to me faster and faster and faster and faster.

+

I met this man — I think. Can you call it a meeting? He sat at the other end of the café, absorbed in what he was reading, or writing I suppose, when I walked in. The place was half filled with a lunchtime crowd, a few regulars like me, and a few that apparently were in no hurry to be anywhere, who had come in from the rain and decided to let the world outside dry off. There is usually space at the bar, always room for one more it seems; and a table you can share with others, which can be delightful or odious, depending upon who your draw for a lunch partner; and often one or two seats around the room. Your eye takes it all in as you choose where to sit, takes in the room and its people, while your heart begins to imagine what is underneath the surfaces. Standing there in the door, I sometimes imagine I am looking at a landscape, and I try to find the softest patch of grass for a seat, or a quiet circle of shade on a hot day - not by that crowd, their brightness is pouring over on all sides - maybe a window seat in the corner? Sometimes color, sometimes warmth, sometimes a smile. What part of a landscape is a smile? At other times I am with friends, one of whom may be more intent on deciding with his or her inner reason which table and which chair and which bit of earth is best; then I just follow and find whatever corner of their garden is most inviting.

That day from the doorway it was familiar territory, and a familiar time of day, and since I had spent the entire morning on the telephone my attention was leaning more toward a Dark Roast and a deep breath than anything else. The landscape was in fog. I looked around absently for an empty seat - lunchtime crowd, regulars, me - around the room once. Vague and in fog. I stifled a yawn. But then I woke up a bit, as though someone had called my name, or had given me a nudge: back in the corner I thought caught sight of a small island, population one castaway, or a pool of stillness, population one heron. After the constant rattle and disconnection of the phones, the quiet felt good.

— Table for...? I hadn't noticed the waiter approaching, and he brought me back to myself with a welcoming smile. — Just yourself?

I nodded.

— Well... you've been here before, haven't you? You can sit where you like. I'll come by and take your order.

— Thanks. There's... nothing available in the corner, is there? Maybe that couple will finish soon? I glanced back toward the pool. Still quiet. We could both see the couple was deep in conversation, absorbed as much in each other as in their words, they looked like recent love, still discovering even a lunch break. I felt a gentle gnawing inside - was that hunger? - imagining how they may have spent the morning, spent the whole morning away from work, both mysteriously suffering the same ailment the night before, and calling in before breakfast to say No, no they could not come in today, and Yes, they knew they would have to forfeit a day off, no help for it... oh, I'll feel better very soon I'm sure - the telephone hiding a smile - yes, I'll feel better, I'm sure, thank you, thank you, and I will surely be in to work tomorrow, no matter how I am feeling.

— Well, sit where you like. The waiter, who couldn't tell how long my hesitation might go on, gave me a nod and moved off to take his orders and deliver his food. I took a breath and decided on a small table by the door: a little drafty, and as far as landscaping was concerned pretty poor soil, but I could see to the far wall of the café, and feel some of that quiet water from where I sat. Taking my coat off, I folded it over the back of the facing chair and hung my purse over the arm of my own. Then I moved to sit down, and as I settled myself I crossed my legs. Then I looked up, just as the man in the corner looked up briefly from his book as well, and saw me.

Or I might say he

took note

of me. His eyes were quiet as well water, and I saw them move quickly and quietly over my legs as they rose to my head, my long hair perhaps, then rest briefly on my face. The contact you make with strangers says, Here I am, there you are. It seemed there was a little spark in that water, a reflection of sunlight, and that the corners of his mouth moved, but scarcely moved, into a smile. Was that hello? I felt myself open up, and smiled to him. His eyes saw my smile, in some way I could tell he saw it. He took note of it. Then he turned back to his work, and I collected myself back to my drafty table. making a point of considering the possibilities of a menu that I already knew by heart. In a minute the waiter was back with a glass of water and silver.

— Yes, I'll have the house salad please... no, wait: what is the soup today? That's better for a day of rain, isn't it... a bowl of the black bean soup and bread. And would you bring a little cilantro on the side? And a cup of chai, now there's a combination. Thanks.

At the table in front of me was an older man, who by all accounts had eroded in stormy weather; or maybe weather had nothing to do with it, maybe he had been washed out by life's storms. He was slumped over the news and taking huge bites of a large, greasy sandwich. A mug of coffee steamed by his left hand, and before he finished chewing a bite he would take a gulp from it and then, without waiting to swallow, his jaws would go to work again. There were several days of stubble along his cheek, but it hadn't grown out into a beard. He hadn't removed his raincoat, a London Fog look-alike, and had stuffed a napkin into the neck of a bright blue shirt. I felt that his sandwich was as important to him as the news, and both the headlines and the food were simply there as a distraction from something dismal that was waiting for him when he left the restaurant, or that had followed him there. He looked up as me with a gray glance as he chewed, his mouth slightly open. I quickly looked away.

Behind him two women were chatting about something I couldn't quite make out. Friends or colleagues, they were comfortable in their conversation, no sign of the intimacy family or love creates. By the way they were laughing I knew the subject was men; men can make you talk in heated whispers and laugh out loud, often in the same sentence, even in the same word. The younger woman bent in eagerly as her lunch companion spoke, and her eyes sparkled as though disbelieving, but wanting to believe. I smiled to think of the story that was being told.

And there, over against the wall, the couple was bending nearer to each other than before, as though whispering a similar secret... but no, they were sharing the sweetest kiss!

I couldn't see my face, but I remember how I felt. With the couple's kiss in my eyes I glanced left and saw the man in the corner looking my way, and this time I could tell he was smiling: his eyes were happy as well, the sunlight had risen all the way to the surface. He looked at me and nodded his ear to the left, indicating his neighbors, then arched his eyebrows,

lucky them, eh?

I let my body laugh silently, it felt good to let it go, a laugh that could be seen but no one else could hear. I wasn't laughing because something was funny. He held my eyes a moment longer, then looked down again, still smiling, shaking his head.

The food came and I ate it. The soup was quite good, and the chai, too, as long as I didn't eat one and drink the other right afterwards. The women laughed loudly once or twice more, their humor clapped around the room like two pigeons and escaped out the window. The older man used his arms to stiffly turn his body, in an effort to catch up with the joke, or to see who was enjoying themselves, and knocked the mug of coffee into his lap. He swore, then soaked his napkin trying to clean up. He leaned over and took the extra napkin from my table, still swearing, making no notice that I was there in front of him. In the corner I could tell the man had glanced up again, toward the coffee-drenched raincoat, and then I

felt

him look toward me - I suppose I saw him in the corner of my eye - and my breath caught. I looked down to my soup bowl for another bite, a bite which wasn't there. I set down my spoon and ran my left hand through my hair, twisting it back and over my shoulder, baring my neck in the process, and thought of something I wanted in my purse. I reached and began to rummage around for whatever it was I wanted. I couldn't find it.

Then someone passed behind me, a warm breath followed by a cool breeze. I closed my purse and straightened myself. Outlined against the far wall I saw the lovers were sharing one more kiss as they rose to leave. As they met, the door scraped closed on the other side of me, and the bell rang as someone had gone out. The corner table was empty except for a few bills.

Was that a meeting? I spent the rest of the day trying to decide.