Sit with Me

I’ve been sitting on the stairs of my apartment for about fifteen minutes with my most beloved friend. The two of us not saying a word, just enjoying the French music playing out of the pocket in my gray jeans. We are waiting for people to leave. It is midnight but the lights are on, games are being played and I have to work tomorrow. If I have to work, so does he. We are the definition of a team. As the lyric sings; we go together or we don’t go down at all. His hair might be thicker and is definitely softer than mine, this fact confirmed again as I roll it between my fingers. As far as darkness though, we are equal. Black as black could be when it comes to hair. Even still, years later, time has gifted us both with streaks of silver. “You’re my left sock.” I told him, as he sat as close to me as he could possibly be, his whole body leaning against mine, keeping me warm; making me more tired than I already was. I could go out wearing just my right sock and survive but that just wouldn’t make sense. We should both go to sleep. We would, if the people would leave. “What’re they doin’?” I whispered, he didn’t answer, he just continued to watch. “We have to go to bed,” I said. I was smiling, he always makes me smile. It was then, in my sleepy, wanting to cuddle haze, that I remembered the times we had sat on these stairs before. It had to be dozens at least.

Sitting on the steps is one of his favorite things to do and I don’t really know why. We would come home and he would rush halfway down the flight and suddenly stop just to look for me. He was always so much faster but not once did he ever seem to mind waiting. Then, if there was nothing to do, we would just sit there on the stairs and decompress for a moment. My arms would be wrapped around him because that’s my favorite thing to do, sit as close as possible next to my left-hand man with both arms wrapped around his barrel chest.

Many times when we had sat like this, it was because I was broken in heart. I would stop on the stairs, bend over and weep. Clutching the railing, unable to walk the whole way down. My chest would ache and tears would flow like stones under rushing water. Us sitting here as we are now may have first started because of my broken heart. I was so very sad back then, that I couldn’t even make it to my room to collapse on my bed and sob into my sheets. My heart was absolutely shattered. I felt that if I had walked anymore it would drop out of my chest. It is a daring thing to love someone. I think he understands that because he loves me. He also loves the one who hurt me because that’s just who he is, his love does not discriminate. Yet he would faithfully sit by my side to try and shelter me from all the pain that they had caused me. Tonight was the opposite of sorrowful though, it was serene. I felt secure just being there, happy to have good company. I kept him in a hug and he was persistent in trying to get closer to me but being on my lap is the only way that could happen.

It has taken me so very long to feel this happy again. Thank God I have arrived. “It’s late,” I said. Then I looked over the railing at the people keeping us awake with their games. “Get out of my house.” It was a serious command issued in a joking tone. The playlist in my pocket switched to ‘Ton Visage’ and we continued to listen. There is nothing quite as cradling as a good melody, it just carries your heart, you know? Even if the words are unclear. The peace of music is in what you feel when you hear it. I wasn’t sure if he knew the words or not but I didn’t ask; tu parle français? I thought it would be rude since he seems to understand the random phrases I say. “If you’re not gone in the next fifteen minutes, I’m gonna start swinging my guitar around.” I was eyeing my first acoustic, thinking how great it would be to have a reason to smash it.

There is nothing quite as cradling as a good melody, it just carries your heart, you know?-Genevieve Rose

“Okay, we’re going.” They laughed. Whenever one of the players would run over, I’d hide behind his head, not because I thought I couldn’t be seen, I was just enjoying the feel of him that was better than the cotton long sleeve I was draped in. He’d tilt his head and look at me upside down every couple of minutes and I would laugh each time. Wordless sweetness. He put a leg over mine but he couldn’t get any more of himself on my lap than that. I didn’t mind. I would hold him like a baby if I could. He is mine. He loves me and I love him. His jet black hair and diamond eyes. He sits with me on the stairs. He is the left sock to my right one. He has loved me in my misery and now he gets to love me in my merriment.