The Ones

"Why do you always fall for the bad guys?" he asked me. I didn't answer for a while. I had the cover of the 3am sky and the last drink descreetly ordered without alcohol. I could say anything. We stopped at a light and I rolled down the window, waited for the car move forward again and for the wind to hit my face. We sat in silence until the light turned green.

 

I said it on an inhale, facing the window, the darkness, with a mouth full of air. "I don't."

 

He made a noise. As though he could release the air in my cheeks. It came out with a swoosh, a pffffffft, a disapproval, and a dismissal. And we were quiet again. The night air turned damp and heavy. The web of disappointment I spun hung in the space between us. Except. I wasn't disappointed.

 

"I don't." I pointed my words at him this time. "He isn't a bad guy."

 

His eyes were on the road but I'm sure he rolled them. We dropped the conversation.

 

It has been years.

 

I didn't. I don't.

 

I can say that now and point to data, charts, graphs, powerpoint presentations. Of sorts. A collander of years strain the the marrow from the bone. I have evidence.

 

Now.

 

Promises kept. Goals persued. Values upheld. All whispered secrets I always held under the ticking clock, while the crowds critiqued armor and swords.

 

I fall for the best listeners. I fall for the ones who tell the truth, who act the truth - the messy, complex-simple truths. The ones who face the peaks and the valleys with open eyes. And a sturdy hand on the center of my back. I fall for the ones who see me. Years ago and years ahead. This point in time will always be a just point in time.

 

The ones who know time folds in on itself.  

 

For all of us.