📞❤️She calls 6 times a day even though she knows I hate seeing my phone ring. I stare at the screen with the urge to wait for it to stop ringing so I can shoot out a text - what's up, text, can't talk. But with her I don't. I answer. It's usually a check-in. To see how I'm feeling, what I'm up to, to know if I've gotten out of bed and have started my day, confirm if I've eaten. She has solutions if any of the above answers are negative. "Get out of bed, I'll stay on the line with you". "Come let's go get coffee". "Picking you up for a drive, see you soon!" "I have food, come quickly". "I've not had the best day, but enough about me, you tell me". It takes one hello, one glance at me, one groan, one smile, one laugh, and she knows. She just does. We spend the next 20 minutes talking about the most random happenings of the day. I learn about what she ate and who she met and what they spoke of. I'm in my kitchen while she's in hers, phone on the side propped up against something, each doing our own thing and not really talking. We look up into our screens at regular intervals just to see the other. And then go back to doing what we were. It's intimate. There's a lot to say, and even when there isn't, there still is. I most like the calls when we're in bed. Her hair is wrapped up in a silk scarf, her voice is all sleepy, and her mind is usually in its 'analysis phase': she'll talk about her feelings and thoughts. I sense gratitude in her voice. And longing. And warmth. Sometimes regret and pain. The world doesn't see this side to her. I love it. I smile, tell her I have to go. She says byeee I love you and occasionally may say something mean. You know, to balance things out. It's how she loves. It's taken me a long long time of saying "what's up I can't talk" but this is how I've learned to be loved.
May 2025