You Know Me Well

I look at him in his Star Wars T-shirt and anchor-print boxers, clutching a pillow on this bed we have spent so much of our time in, and what I realize is that somehow, without even knowing it, I have stepped out of love with him, and where I`ve stepped instead may end up being the better place. I have to step out of love with him, because the ground I`ve always wanted to be there was never really there. He is capable of giving that ground, but I am not the one he wants to give it to. Instead I have the ground we`ve grown all these years. I love him indestructibly, and I care about him at a root level, but in this three-breath-long moment I can understand that the two of us will never be boyfriends, never be husbands, never be everything to each other in that way. I can let that go, and hold tight to everything else.
It should feel like a retreat. It should feel like my love is diminishing and my feelings are contracting. But instead I have a sense that they`re expanding. And they are doing it because they have to.
I am sure that later on I will doubt this. I know that I will regret it, that I will wonder if this sudden understanding was just a trick of the light. But there are no illusions here. Today is finally today. We are no longer what we were. We are now what we`re going to be.
"I know you`re not ready," I tell him. "I`m not ready, either. But you know what? It`s happening anyway. And we`re going to be okay. We`ll risk the good thing for the better thing. We`re really, truly going to be okay."
I feel nearly empty as I finish this sentence. I`ve pulled out as much of myself as I can, and I am offering it to him now, no longer a part of me but not entirely relinquished. And in return, he lets go of the pillow. He opens his arms and says my name over and over, as if at long last he`s found me, as if at long last we understand that this is what we needed to learn.

"This one will tell us about your future. Are you ready?"
We nod.
And she flips it over. Even though I don`t really believe in this, even though Kylies is just a pretty girl telling stories, playing a game with our lives, fear grips me.
On the card is a tower struck by lightning, raining fire into a black sky. Two men are diving out to escape the flames, plummeting to the rocky ground below. I was expecting a card about strength or peace, Kylie quoting everybody`s favorite words of encouragement: Yes, times are hard now, but you`ll find your way. Instead I`m face-to-face with disaster.
"Okay," she says. "The Tower. This is a powerful card."
"Yeah," Mark says. "I can see that." His voice is shaking.
"Don`t be scared," she says. "Or, okay, go ahead: Be scared. That`s okay, too. Give me a second. Let me think."
She goes back to the beginning -- our upside-down World -- follows it ot the Eight of Swords and then to the Tower again.
"I`m new at this," she says. "And I can see how these cards look frightening. They are frightening. But look at you two. You look horrible. You look sad and scared. You don`t need the cards to tell you that. So if we following the journey they are showing us, we can see the tower is necessary. Something profound needs to happens. Something needs to change, and it is going to change soon. You may already know what`s coming. It`s going to shake you. It`s going to change your world. But after the tower burns to the ground, and you`ve picked yourself up off the rocks, and the fire ends and the night passes, it`s going to be morning again."

"Both of you, look closely," she says. "This figure is bound and blindforded. She appears trapped, but she isn`t."
"She`s surrounded by swords," Mark says. "It definitely seems like she`s trapped."
"But look. The swords don`t go all the way around her, and only her arms are bound. If she would only trust herself to step forward, she would make it through. This card is a warning to you both. You can`t allow yourself to be trapped by your pain."
"Right," I say. "If you find yourself in hell, keep walking. That seems to be the theme of the night."
She says, "Could be. Or maybe, if you think you`re in hell, open your eyes. What you see may surprise you."

"I can`t believe how interested they were in us."
"I can," I say. I concentrate. I try to find the reason behind it. "What`s happening to us -- the decisions we`re making and not making, the things we can control and the things that we can`t -- they are huge. And people can choose to forget how it was for them, or they can remember. They can half-listen to us and roll their eyes when we leave because we`re young and we have no fucking clue what we`re doing. Or they can actually listen, and they can think about themselves when they were like us, and maybe we can bring some pieces of them back." And now my eyes are welling up, my hands are trembling. "Because we lose it," I say. "We grow up and we lose ourselves. Sometimes when my favorite songs are on I have to stop what I`m doing and lie down on my carpet and just listen. I feel every word they`re singing. Every note. And to think that in twenty years, or ten years, or five, even, I might hear those same songs and just, like, bob my head or something is horrible. Then I`m sure I`ll think that I know more about life, but it isn`t true. I`ll know less."