I hated leaving … I walked to the subway and thought of you there all the way back home. It’s hard leaving, always. Always was; still is. Everyone at home was fine – the usual, though L. seemed a bit ‘off’ since she knew that we would be seeing each other that day – we both agree that it’s easier to tell a half-truth, since I find it impossible to say that I haven’t seen you at all. I told her you had stopped by the office to say hello and we had stepped out for an hour or so. The family always knew but that was then. What is our giveaway sign I wonder now? L. and even yours (he) knows something. It’s just there between us. We are, as grandmother always said, ‘unnaturally close.’ Maybe she noticed our hands brush the other night when you walked in. Maybe I should not have sat next to you at dinner (but you were again barefoot as was I and so then this irresistible. It reminded me so much of then… the feeling of your cool foot next to mine. Did you feel it too? I think you did. I do.)
I noticed they noticed and they noticed that we noticed. That’s the problem. I did note that she was rather on the attack that night too. Really going after you then and I’m sorry about that. She is so jealous, so threatened, and I can’t blame her in some ways but what she did and said – I am sorry. The thing about the …. I touched you anyway to make the point. She doesn’t know that you are part Jew as well. Sometimes I think she doesn’t even like the fact that I am. She doesn’t get it the way we get each other. And if I can be frank, even E. seems to have issues with your own Jewishness. Isn’t this just like the family then? Here we are, the only two real Jews again amidst so many Catholics who for whatever reason, feel some need to not accept us or to make us feel less. All it does is serve to drive us closer together. It’s not that either of us is particularly religious, though I remember you… yes… all that confession … that was funny, sweet. You are sweet. Yes, we offer each other the only real absolution, cousin. This you must know. There is no other. We share a litany, a language, a dialect, a codified and agreed upon language of symbols and code and so we are. And because you are, then so am I.
Your kisses, by the way, the other night, tasted of honey and chamomile tea. Mostly of chamomile flowers. But we did eat almost a third of that jar of honey. Some things never change; passing the spoon back and forth between us. I have the spoon…. I’ll keep it safe. Seeing you makes the rest of life bearable… and seeing you and making love to you – and tasting your saffron spiced lips makes the rest of life unbearable because nothing and noone even comes close. Do you follow? I think you do.
of course I do… love, that is, only you.
ton cousin.
