If you intertwine your fingers with one another you can form a useful instrument: a cup. Cupping your hands around your mouth may try to seal in a cough. It’s a jail cell, a limited sentence until release. Sometimes, you can cup you hands to slurp a drink of water, or to catch the falling rain. It’s similar to praying but much more spiritual.
When I was little, I’d lie on my naked spine in the backfields of my Mother and Stepfather’s summer country house. I’d look to the sky, cupping my hands around the stars that flowed from the boundless blackness that gasped for some sort of normalcy in the universe. I’d pocket the stars and take them back to my room for safekeeping. I had so few treasures back than that were sailable.
I’ve never been one to treasure such things that you could actually physically hold. I treasured kindred spirits, warm hugs, and boisterous laughter; they seemed to be worth something a little more.
We had met each other a few times, she and I. It was always in passing, never one-on-one. It wasn’t until Teddy’s birthday party that things began to change.
Our mutual friend, Teddy, was having his 22nd birthday blowout. It was no surprise to me that I’d see her there. Teddy and she had been best friends for the longest time, and he was deemed at her “Gay Husband”. She had more street cred than I. All I was to Teddy was a coworker who shared the occasional smoke break.
The party dragged as most parties do. They start off quiet, everyone trying to feel others out and maintain composure. Than someone opens a bottle of...