Missing in marriage
By Juliet OC
I notice it most when we make love. You are there, fleshy and slippy and breathy and yet you are absent. Who do you secretly imagine when I touch you down there and your eyes are closed and your head is turned away from me on the pillow?
Physicists say observation creates reality and the universe and everything in it is merely a hologram of what was and what is and what will be. If I don’t see it; your absence... if I don’t notice you are missing, then will you be missing?
Thought and action... the older I get the less I understand the distinction. Thought is action. Thoughts start wars. Thoughts betray. If I don’t shine the light on you in just the right way, then I will not see the thoughts you have squirreled away.
But my darling, we’ve been married too long for me not to notice the little things. It is always the little things. How my shoulders and neck remain unkissed as I sit at my desk after work; and my ear unassailed by your wet breath and dirty words. Even the tunes you absently mindedly hum have an unfamiliar cadence.
If only I could be content with your physical presence. If only I hadn’t shone a light on your empty gaze. If only, when we make love I didn’t need to ask. Who are you with? What is his name?
And will it ever be mine again?