dobbs and satchel were sitting on the steps in front of their house. Satch had a ball; dobbs had a book.

we'd spent lots of time out here: white wine and conversation; nachos and making fun of the kids in the park; thumb wrestling while the dogs tug-of-warred a rope toy.

on our third date we just sat and talked.

i asked him all the regular getting-to-know-you questions. what were you like as a kid? can you touch your thumb to your wrist? the stones, the who, or the beatles? we went back and forth like that for hours.

it's practically all lost now.

he smiled at me now as i was coming up the walk.

i tried to cut right to the chase--burst in with my apology, but he took me in his arms before i had a chance. he held me tight and whispered in my ear: "thanks for coming."

and it wasn't just some casual throwaway thing. he was truly thankful.

he turned and faced the house with me. he took my hand and we went up the steps.

inside, we went straight to the bedroom. he turned on the stereo, pressed play, and we were surrounded by Wim Mertens' Often a Bird. [mp3]

we were still holding hands when he led me to the bed. together, we fell into it, like a daydream or a fever*.

of those third date questions i can only recall his answer to "what do you want do when you grow up?"

"what do i wanna do when i grow up? i want to fall in love and hover three feet above the ground and two inches above my seat. i want to make some girl loopy. i want to make men seem like a good idea."

i kissed him, hard, and reached for the pomegranate in the bag beside the bed.

next

*line thiefed from Godspeed! You Black Emperor.