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Show Moon - 245 Maybe I do. When I lived in New York it had become politically fashionable to love women in every possible way, and I thought I owed it to the Cause to try. But the opportunity didn't present itself, perhaps because my life was aswarm with men. Now, it could be that my time with men is over, though the thought of this threatens intolerable pain. I'm losing my hormones, the doctor said. Can a man-even Josh-get free of the biological imperative enough to love a woman without hormones? Or am I going to have a baby I ought to share with this lovely, sad woman? Is this what I've been looking for all along? It's an idea, but not a feeling. Lisa nestles closer. Her hand gropes under my arm to my breasts. As she brushes a nipple, I shrink away, for it's sore. I wait for my body to answer in another way, for the musical phrase to cue the dance. I relax into the warmth of her and I like it, but it seems to be a small-animal sort of liking, as if I were a pup needing the comfort of a body. Baby love. Nothing adult rises up to claim a possible new direction. She nips little kisses on my nape, and my scalp begins a faint tingling. If I let her go on, eventually I'll respond, just as a fish must rise for food. "Mommy," she whispers. I sit up, shocked into remembrance of my age, of the impossibility of love with this woman-girl. I can't be what she needs. She can't be what I need. Mother, you seem so far away now, but, please, a few more questions: What would you say? Have you known all along what I'm just now seeing, that no one can be what I need? There isn't any right place to go, or anything to find. Whatever I've lost is inside me. Whatever happens next, it's not going to be because anything makes sense, it'll be because being alive is the only thing a |
