Caged Nightingale

saara-60

I continue to fall under atif's spell. It reaches into parts of me which I didn't even know existed.
The intimacy follows us out of the bedroom, its in our smiles, in the way we eat, in the silence between us when we sit in the garden. It bleeds into our daily life. We never argue, in fact we rarely disagree on anything. We seem to have found a comfortable place. A groove so to speak. Where we both exist as extensions of each other.
There is something intoxicating about being with Atif. Tall, dark handsome, powerful, smart, witty, sexy, knows his way around a woman. Its easy to get drawn in.
Perhaps I'm deluding myself, but I could swear his affection for me is real. Its not just sex and possession, a kindness, consideration in his actions. His control is a testement to his respect of me. With the exception of that play, he hasnt hurt me. We seemed to have moved into a different stage of intimacy. Something more than just physical. I tell him my fantasies and he tells me his. Without judgement or embarrassment - that's when I realise he has me. When I really let him in. I share my darkest desires with him, without any inhibitions.

His declaration of love sits in my mind, just the once he admitted he loved me, I wonder if I imagined him saying the words. He hasn't said them since.
I listen to his heart beat in the darkness and wonder at the exceptional man beside me. I say exceptional because it is a real feat to be able to liberate you from yourself.
That's what it is. Liberation.
Being freed from social expectations I have of myself. The way I dress, the way I busy myself with the mundane tasks of life, even the way I view myself in our relationship. Power transactions shift between couples, affection is used as currency, pain as collateral, trust as insurance. A sense of decorum governing our words, gestures, actions so we are able to purchase a sense of self respect and self worth. With Atif there is unbridled desire, acceptance and acknowledgment of each others flaws and a deeper understanding of our own nature. I reconcile myself with the stranger I have allowed myself to become. Grieving silently for my loss, all the while protecting that traitor reputation. Why did I never accept myself and my own interests as being enough? Why was I concerned more about what other people thought of me? Letting myself become a hostage to their opinions of me.
I'm never going to get a reward for my stoicism. Yet that was my main form of self admonishment and inner conflict. Always doing the right thing even if it was the wrong thing from me. My time with Atif has allowed me to accept its OK for me to put myself first. To accept what I want even if others won't approve or like it.
Already I feel the impending loss of Atif more than I ever felt with Asim's death. Perhaps it is because I am completely dependent on him. In this house, a complete stranger has become the air that I breathe, the food I eat, the peace of mind I covet. . . I love him. Really love him -because I have somehow, through my time with him, found my way back to myself again.
I lie here listening to the low humming of the AC. In a couple of days I'll be back in London,
but the thought no longer excites me. Rather I feel anxious, nervous, worried, restless.
It feels suspiciously like self sabotage.
I turn on my side and look at Atif. He's awake. His black eyes staring up and out into nothing. I just know he's feeling the same. I reach out and place a hand on his bicep, which tenses immediately. In the low light of dawn, he turns to face me. I feel like I'm looking at my own reflection.
I wait for him to say something, anything. The silence just stretches out between us, like a gulf.