Day 6. Excerpt from “Same-Sex Spirituality” an essay from the “Faith and Bullshit” collection. Circa 2011.
She had a lot to drink at the party and it has become pretty typical for her to get into some type of funk once the music stops and she has to move from dim-lit dance floors to concrete sidewalks to the carpet in her bedroom, a new mood unveiling itself along the way. But tonight she is more contemplative than usual. She and her partner of four years recently ended their stint and it’s obvious that the idea of her ex-girlfriend dating men and moving on makes her feel empty.
We arrive at her house, sloppily climb the stairs and fall on the bed. Any other night, she is rambling off obscenities and spewing slurred lyrics that make us both laugh until sleep overtakes us. But not now. We lay in bed fully clothed. Close. The sole light source comes from beyond the windows and the quiet is interrupted only by the swoosh-swoosh of cars on Broad Street and the low hum of the miniature heater that we turned on to knock out the 2am March morning chill that hovered in the room.
I am fading to sleep. I turn over first to make sure she is already dozing before allowing myself to slip into slumber. She is staring up at the ceiling. In the darkness, I see her lashes move with each blink, but otherwise her eyes are wide open. I turn my body towards hers and move closer, resting my chin on her shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Pumkin?” I ask her through her dreadlocks which are splayed across the pillow.
“I’m sad, Nique.” The sniffles begin and the tears follow. “I miss her. And I hate this dating shit. And I don’t feel like I can talk to anybody about how I feel,” she managed between heaves.
“Awww, Pumkin,” I kiss her wet cheek and taste the salt on my lips. “You can always talk to me. I’m here.”
I wrap my arm snugly around her. She tilts her head to rest on my forehead and continues to cry. She doesn’t acknowledge my offer tonight and we say nothing more before going to sleep.