78. Hold My Hand

You sit down beside me as I take a sip of coffee. Hot and fragrant, its bitterness rushes across my tongue. I relax into the comfort of the familiar drink. You press your fork into the cheesecake and ask me if I’d like a bite. I thank you for the offer, but I’m feeling full from lunch so I decline. We’re seated side-by-side, looking out at the street through the front window of the shop. People walk by, but they don’t notice us noticing them. I suddenly realize you’re sitting very close to me. I like that you are. When we were eating lunch, you were so enthusiastic and engaged in our conversation that I had to keep reminding myself to focus just so I could keep up. I liked how you asked me questions about my life, about my work, about my family. All of that might have been too much from someone else, but it felt right to talk about it with you. And being close to you also feels right. We’re so close and I wish you would hold my hand. I think that would feel right too. And then you turn to look at me and I look at you and you ask me if I’d like to hold your hand. I’m not able to answer immediately because I’m shocked. How did you know I wanted that? Surely you can’t read my mind. I finally smile and tell you yes and you take my hand in yours. Warm and firm is my first impression, but then also a bit damp. I realize this means you might be nervous and that makes me happy. It makes me happy because I want you to care about this and you do. But how could you know I wanted your hand? Maybe you didn’t, but you wanted to hold mine. And so you asked. Someone has to go first, after all. One of us has to take the risk of asking for what they want, in the hope that the other wants the same. If no one did this, we would stay separated. But you took the risk and now our separation has been transformed into connection. You’re looking out the window into the distance. I wonder what you’re thinking. Then it occurs to me that you might be thinking exactly this — what I’m thinking, you might be thinking too. Maybe this is all in your head, me included. To be entirely honest, I’m fine with that. I’ll live there, in you. I think it would be a beautiful place to exist.