Once Again, I Dreamt of Water

A Quirky Moment

Look into my eyes, you will see

What you mean to me.

—Bryan Adams, "(Everything I Do) I Do It for You"

ALONDRA: Yahir has prepared a picnic for us and has brought my favorites: pink Moscato wine, sourdough bread and Boursin cheese. We are sitting on sheets on the sand here at the beach. If Estéfano could see the kisses Yahir is planting on my neck and shoulders and now my lips, well, first – he'd be infuriated, but secondly, he'd realize from one look in my eyes, he'd know that I do not love Yahir. With one glance in my wistful eyes, he'd know I love him still.

Back home, here in this bathroom, I remember a quirky moment I loved: Estéfano eating in a hurry in front of the medicine cabinet, looking at himself eat in the mirror. Perhaps he was observing if his six-pack was more cut than the prior day. His favorite cereal is Captain Crunch, mine is warm Corn Flakes.

I remember Estéfano's protruding Adam's apple. I remember the times he and I would sneak in the bathroom to fit together in a puzzle pieces way, devoid of clothing, devoid of embarrassment.

I remember him showering, how he loved using my shower gel that smelled like sugar and cookies. Here he would be if I hadn't kicked him out. Now I only get to see myself - brushing my teeth, combing my hair, crying and taking pills. I admit - I don't shower as much as I used to because of a lingering, assailing wistfulness.