Break time tonight finds Valerie in my office, folding her teeny tiny self into the five centimeters of space left on the guest chair that’s full of my bags and books. “Don’t worry,” she says when I reach to shift my crap to the floor, “I’m skinny.” Is she ever. Enough to worry me.
But I am off topic. Her painful thinness is not why she’s here. No. She has only come for a second. And that is to tell me — uncharacteristically quietly and shyly — that she and Jeovany are back together.
(Which explains his over the top exhuberance on Tuesday.)
I am happy for them. Of course. They have wanted to be back together since the moment they broke up. And I like them together. They are a terrifying fascination.
I’m just not sure. There is the ‘terrifying’ in the fascination, after all. Yes, both have grown a little in the last few months. But both are still very young for their ages. Neither has a particularly stable hold on her or his volatile temper. Neither knows how not to fight dirty.
Would any of these things have improved if they’d stayed apart a little longer? Maybe. But yeah, maybe not. Maybe it’s better for them to be together for as long as they can sustain the white heat of their attraction, burn it out of their systems and move on. Certainly I, with my life history of failed relationships, am not the one to know the wiser choice. And even if I did know, it’s not for me to tell them what to do, how to offer up their hearts and to whom.
So the saga continues. I’ll just stand over here, doling out hugs and kisses, crossing my fingers, hoping for the best.