Actions and Consequences

Carol raising her glass, tapping it against mine. toasting. Alive and uncomplicated.

Moments passing. But R, the snag is, life’s complicated. And the complications intrude. Your wife and my husband, for instance, what about them. Actions have consequences. If we’re lovers, then what are the consequences?

Watching the ducks on the little lake, pondering. Looking up at Carol, looking at me. Well, Carol, here’s a suggestion, you decide what you want to do, and look after the consequences your end. Which would not seem to be far-reaching if we can both be discreet. And I’ll look after my side. And we both promise each other that we’ll each stay clear of the other’s life, other than in the moments we share.

Picking up her hand, stroking it, trying to soften the words, also not wanting to duck the issue, she’s too precious a person to be other than straightforward.

Rising, taking our glasses to the trashcans, tossing them in. See, Carol, that’s what we need to do with the extraneous details in our lives, dispose of them responsibility. Both of us struck by the ridiculousness of the analogy, laughing together.

Strolling across the park, heading back to her apartment. Here are my assumptions, Carol. Your husband and my wife don’t meet our respective needs, for whatever reason, staleness, temperament, diverging paths, anything. But it’s too hurtful to them and others and us to uproot everything. Now that action, uprooting, would have consequences. So, we live with what we’ve got.

But Carol, that can be a prison, unless we make it otherwise. We have to find the freedom within life’s impeding structures. For magical life-enhancing moments when they suddenly arise. Like now.

Taking her hand, pulling her to me, giving her a hug. Carol smiling, hugging back.

Okay R, I need some time to think about that, sorry if I’m slower at all this than you.

Sure baby, that’s fine, no rush, no predetermined destination, me, I’m just enjoying the journey.

Moving on, chatting, watching football games and kite flying and cycling and other inconsequentialities.

Reaching Carol’s apartment, stopping. Oh Carol, one other thing, that kiss you owe me, well, I don’t want it. Carol’s face crossed with a slight frown. No, honestly, I don’t. Not if it’s given because you owe me, that is. If you kiss me when we get into that apartment, it has to be because you want to, want to quite badly actually, in fact, exactly as much as I want to be kissed by you.

Carol smiling, opening the door, letting me in.