|
sad adonis is very sick. last night when i got home from work, his face was flushed and there were tears in his eyes. he looked awful. he told me he's never had a fever like this before. in Greece, he never got sick like he gets living in America. i nursed him back to health with chicken soup, fresh carrot juice, and tylenol PM. i didn't want to give him the Tylenol. i read somewhere that fever is the body's natural way of fighting off infection. that people are too quick to try to remedy the fever, but what they don't realize is that the infection remains and lingers. but i didn't want to mess around with a temperature like that. i made him drink water. all night long, i kept waking him up to drink, DRINK THE WATER. he had been sweating, profusely, under layers of blankets. his clothes clung to his body, wet and damp. i was certain he was dehydrated. i made him change into a dry clothes. he slept soundly through the night. when he woke up his fever was gone, but he was, of course, still sick. he tried to tell me he was going to work. you can't imagine the horror on my face. he feels guilty not working. like less of a man. it's a Greek pride thing. also, it's difficult for him becuase he doesn't get any sick pay so every day he doesn't work he's losing money, and he's afraid his uncle will get mad at him for taking so many days off. i reassured him by telling him that next week i would work as much overtime as i could get. we're a team now. ****** when i came home from work on Tuesday, he was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. he seemed....not himself. i asked him what was wrong and he looked so sad. he told me he was curious. he wanted to know what i had put inside a trunk that he restored and refinished. right away i cringed. i knew there were photos in there, photos i hadn't had a chance to go through, to pack up, and to get rid of. i wondered what he had seen. he told me he found photos. i asked him what they were. he told me he just needed me to sit in his lap and hug him. "I'm very sad." he said. i couldn't even begin to imagine. but i also became a little angry. he told me christmas day he didn't want to know anything about my past. that he was sure he wouldn't be able to handle it. i was, of course relieved, but also a little disappointed. we all want to be with someone who can accept all of us, including our past. but that can at times be completely unrealistic. now here he was looking through a trunk and had come across photos of me teaching inner city kids at a camp, upstate new york, and if the photos had been just of me and the kids...that might have been okay... but there were photos of me with the other counselors, most of them black and hispanic men. i hope not to offend anyone with this, but what can i do. adonis is prejudice. my father was also prejudice. it is one thing about him that i can't get my head around. i try to ignore it. i told him he has to be careful about looking at things he doesn't want to see, because he will be sure to come up with some story about what he THINKS was happening. "Because what you THINK, and what is really happening, isn't always the same." i brought up the photo he had found on my computer on Christmas day, one of me, lola and ted on a bed at the Hudson hotel. completely clothed. we were very drunk. it was a party. not an orgy, but we never discussed what he THOUGHT was happening in that photo. now was the time for me to tell him. "For example, i know that when you looked at that photo on Christmas that you had your own idea of what you THOUGHT was happening." he agreed. then i explained. he just nodded, blinking his eyes, holding me closer. "You have a past too." I pointed out. "No, i don't." he said. "Oh come on," i said. "Everybody has a past - things that happen before the present. Things that you did before you met me. It doesn't mean it was bad. It just WAS." I have a strong feeling that when adonis told me he hadn't been with many women, he was telling the truth. i believe that's what he's getting at when he says he doesn't have a past. i understand his sadness at seeing pictures of my past, particularly photographs of me with other men. i wouldn't want to see him with any other woman. is this love? or is it possession? who knows. all i can think about is getting the rest of the photos out of there before he finds them hidden in the back of the closet. i haven't had a chance to pack them up, or throw them away. i don't want to hurt him. love rose
|
|
welcome!
daily entrecard my other blog advertise here
affiliates
disclosure
|
