(Journal Entry 3 - July 2021)
So much happened in those early months. We fell head first. Even though we’re in this position now, I still feel so lucky to have had the time I did with you.
Paris, Paris, Paris! My heart aches at the memory now. You floored me that night. I didn’t feel deserving of you. I have moments even until now where I still don’t think I am. Despite your tireless efforts to make me think otherwise.
That little Eiffel Tower ashtray. When we grabbed it at the same time, I almost said those words then. I love you.
Do you remember my utter horror at thinking we’d lost it in transit from London to the new house? You moved boxes as heavy as boulders for me to make sure it was found. My own Greek myth playing out in front of me. My God. You were always the answer to every problem I had. You’re my Atlas Dean, you hold up the sky.
Remember celebrating with a stupidly expensive bottle of red and take away pizza? That first night in the new house? You played French jazz on your phone and we slow danced by the kitchen sink. Our lives, boxed up and scattered around us. We laughed at how much work lay ahead. Delirious from exhaustion and spent adrenaline. Nothing phased us when it was us together.
We can get through this can’t we Dean? Please tell me we can.
You found it. Of course you did. In a box marked ‘Crap.’ Labelling boxes went out the window at gone midnight on our last night in Notting Hill. To everyone else it probably is but it was the crown jewel in our life. So many emotions are wrapped up in that garish little thing. Our print too, every morning when the going got tough, we’d think of our terrace in Paris as we gazed at it and head out into the world. Remembering where this all began.
It’s the sound. The sound of your keys dropping into that little dish every evening. We’re complete again. My Big Boy is home. Come to me. Love me. Kiss me. Wrap me up in you. A decade has passed and I want it forever to come.
Forget cars, money, success, labels, if our home burned to the ground tomorrow, rescue them for me Dean. If I never see you again, at least I’ll know they’re safe.
Come rescue me too. Am I worth saving?
I’ve often thought about our padlocks over the years. I’ll forever be your JA. I’ll forever be your JJ. I hope they’re still together. Are we?
Your first panic attack in front of me was the most precious moment. You were exposed and even more real. You aren’t a weak man. As I told everyone, you’re magnificent. But I knew in that moment I had to protect you too. And look at me now. I broke that promise, not consciously but I still have. Forgive me.
That afternoon when you gave yourself to me. We shifted. I was an equal to you, finally. You let me grow to the man I always should have known I could have become. I just needed you to tell me it was time. And you did. You were always our strength in the bedroom, despite our evolving dynamics. My absolute master of pleasure. Dean, you’d leave me mute with your ways. After we were done, you’d get up, triumphant, a grin that could melt chrome. I’d let you take me again and again, just to see that cheeky turn of your mouth.
I remember laughing at Christmases, birthdays, kids parties, rubbing shoulders with colleagues at corporate dinners over the years, they had no idea what you got up to in our bedroom. My naughty, sensual, powerful, Big Boy.
Everyone would stare at you. Your body when we were on a beach, your achingly handsome face waiting to pay for groceries in the supermarket, men and women with bit lips and subtle sighs. I’d giggle to myself. I love your obliviousness to your beauty.
Your cheeks, always a little flushed, you were always worried about something. Usually me. But your eyes lit up when you found me in a crowd or narrowed in on me in bed. I knew from that look I had to ride you. You’re a stallion who needed me to take control and be sure to wear you out. Take your reigns and break you in. Over and over. You’d be happy then, you’d sleep deeply. Satisfied. I live to satisfy you.
That was then.
I’m so tired. I’m piecing together what happened in these past couple of weeks. I’m being poked and prodded for tests and information by medical people and the police. They scare me Dean. I need you here to tell me everything will be ok again. Tell them to leave me alone. Be Big Pillow again. Please?
I’m being told things I can’t go into detail about in written word, but I shudder at it. The whole grotesque thing.
My mind keeps coming back to that moment. That one person out there who I can never thank enough. They saved my life. We didn’t get on all the time, for that I apologise. You had to be our referee and that wasn’t fair. I persisted though, they mean a lot to you. They mean a lot to me, even more now. You kept us in check, we set aside our differences for you, most of the time. If you’ll let me back in your life, I will love this person forever. You do, I must learn to do the same. They saved my life, I have no option but to love them, I’ll gladly do it. I hope they love me too, despite what I put them through.
I don’t remember everything, I came too briefly in a moving car and recognised the face looking down at me instantly. I’ve never seen such terror and concern in their eyes. I felt safe though, while I was conscious, enough to know that despite our arguments and fights over the years, they wouldn’t let me come to some horrible end.
There was a gun shot in that place. I don’t know where it came from. But he got me out. How, I have no idea. Dean, this man is an angel. I could not have been able to sit here, missing you if it wasn’t for him.
I was poisoned with something. Turning me against everyone. So I’m told. It terrifies me, the invasion of my body, the audacity of someone to think they have the right to control another human being. I’m not allowed to be angry. I’m told I have to rest. I don’t know yet who did this, I hope for an answer soon. I just want to understand why. Why me? No one needs to die. You know me better than everyone, I want to love and forgive, even those I probably shouldn’t.
This is your part. This is where you come in and make it better. I’m crying now. Everything feels so useless and pointless. I don’t know what I’m meant to do without you. It all seems irrelevant.
Come back. Make my life relevant again.
I know I’ve hurt you, possibly beyond repair but I keep writing. The words help. Amongst all the misery it’s comforting to reminisce about a life I used to and could have continued living.
Tell me I can carry on living it with you.
Forever yours,
Trouble
