Those words. Those dreadful, dreaded, unavoidable words. They make all the difference in the conversation.
“I can’t talk long tonight.”
When Beloved has work to do, he has work to do. He still has a year to uphold his end of the scholarship agreement. And that means some nights we don’t get to talk. Oh sure, there’s the lighthearted banter about the day’s events and the occasional playful jab (ie, when determining why I’ve lost sleep lately, he postulated “must be that talkative fiancé of yours” and I retorted, “more like his talkative fiancée!”) As much as I’ve come to expect it, every time it happens still feels like a pit in the gut. Into that pit I toss everything I hoped to bring up tonight. The next few pages of Covenant Marriage. My thoughts on my excruciatingly boring evening spent avoiding biochemistry. Theoretical future plans, just for kicks. A date for a photo shoot.
But, I can’t stay down like this forever. Not after the wonderful conversation we had last night; all simple, honest giving and discovering hidden joys. I can let the B remain silent tonight while he works and I dream. Soon enough he’ll be mine. Soon enough we won’t be separated by a hundred forty miles and a disconnected phone line.
That is, if eight months and twenty-one days can be called “soon enough.”
