Loving Like Shue

I sat on my loveseat watching “Leaving Las Vegas” and drinking a home-made martini. I took a sip of my green pick-me-upper and winced. The cold had hit my teeth and numbed my lips as the alcoholism and prostitution had numbed the feelings of Nicholas Cage and Elisabeth Shue’s characters. I imagined my drink was just as strong as the vodka tonic Nicholas' character drank and immediately set it down. Then they arrived home from the casino, Nicholas drunk and Elisabeth taking care of him before going out to sell herself. And then she surprised me. Took the dreaded step and said “I love you”. And he said he loved her. It was that simple.

My relationship with Elijah lacked the dysfunction of an alcoholic and prostitute pairing, but it was just as loving. There was a mutual understanding. He yearned for someone to love after his last heartbreak and I needed someone to love after all the disappointments. All that was left was for us to express our love to one another. And after meeting his mami and him about to meet mine, I felt it was on its way.

We walked through mami’s front door on a Saturday afternoon. I was nervous, as this was the first man I had ever brought home and the first that would spent the night. But mami was as wonderful as ever, greeting Elijah with a hug and a peck on the cheek, exclaiming how wonderful it was to meet him and what a handsome trigeñito he was. Elijah was relieved; his mami thought my mami would reject him because he was dark-skinned. But there was only love.

We excused ourselves after greeting my brother. Elijah had to buy a winter hat and I had to replace the upper button of my brown and black pea coat in order to brave the cold months of winter. We were finally outside of the building. Things seemed to have changed so much since I left for Rowan. The building’s numbers - 551- had somewhat faded and while standing there I noticed how worn out the bricks had become. I also noticed Elijah’s expression changing as he scanned the area. As much as he claimed Vineland, NJ was “hood”, the uncertainty, awe, and innocence spreading across his face told me otherwise.

“O.k., I’m going to take you to 181st. That’s where all the shops are. It’s like the Dominican version of Times Square,” I said.

He lifted a strand of hair stuck onto my glossy lips and said:

“Let’s get your button first. It’s really cold out here.”

I smiled. I loved that he thought of me, that he protected me. I looked up at him and noticed his expression changing once again. He starred at me, as he always did when we woke up in each other’s arms, admiring my essence. Elijah flattened the right collar of my coat and tucked in the gold and burgundy-brown Rowan scarf he had given me that morning.

“You know what?” he asked.

“What?” I asked.

He stopped for a few seconds and looked toward the bricks. He was going to tell me he loved me. I could feel it.

“Never mind,” he said.

“Not tell me,” I said.

“I’ll tell you when the mood is right.”

He grabbed my right hand and we turned to walk down St. Nicholas Avenue. I replayed the moment in my head and wish I had said something. I wish I would have risked it all -turned the functional to dysfunctional, the safe to uncertain, the fear to surrender. I wish I would have said I love you. I wish I would have loved like Shue.