Eddy & Paul

Seen on the Purple Line to Linden at about 8:30 a.m.

“Did you ever get your internet fixed?”

“Yeah—if by ‘fixed’ you mean I switched to RCN.”

“Good choice. Fuck Comcast.”

Laughter. Smiles.

“Have you ever been to the Brew and View?”

“No. I’ve heard of it, though.”

“I went last Thursday. It was fun. There’s usually a Groupon.”

“We should go.”

“I was just gonna ask.”

Laughter. Smiles.

Glances.

Blush.

Eddy and Paul have known each other since they were children, and they will know each other until they die. “Know” meaning really know: intimate with each other’s hearts and minds. They went to grade school together, and high school, and college. They play sports together. They throw parties together. They watch porn together. Each calls the other’s parents mom and dad. Nothing is a secret between them, except for the most important thing.

Though he would never say it, Eddy loves Paul more than his girlfriend. She teases him about it, but Eddy never tells her she’s right. Though he would never say it, Paul sometimes dreams of Eddy, dreams of how they slept in the same bed when they were little, dreams of the closeness, and he wakes up sweating.

Like a love-asymptote they remain, traveling all life’s curves together, but never falling together, for eternity. 

This one goes out to my friend and fellow writer Raphael, who mentioned last night at writing group that instead of a love triangle, someone should write a story about a love asymptote. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED AND CHALLENGE CONQUERED.

Tonight I have NO PLANS. I can't remember the last time I had no plans. I am going to write. And go running. And maybe sleep. Maybe.