Two Lucky

Dreams

I just had the strangest dream. I woke up crying. I dreamt that Rusty cheated on me with three different women. In the dream, after I find out and threaten to leave him, one by one, men begin to crawl into our room through the windows, naked, to have sex with him. All this time, Rusty stays in bed. He lets me go.

I start to pack, angrily, and when Dad comes into the room, I say to him: “I’m leaving your son, I’ve done my very best by him, and see what he’s doing to me!” How did Rusty and I become brothers?

It was then that Rusty is suddenly beside me, and I start hitting him. I have a small plastic bottle in my hand. It is the bottle of Aveeno itching lotion I bought for him during his chemotherapy in Philadelphia. One strike to the chest - and Rusty’s face changes. His jaw drops, his eyes jerk in some incomprehensible surprise, and falls to the ground. I collapse to the ground beside him, crying for his forgiveness, and wake up.

Making sense

It is past midnight and Rusty is asleep. I am not. It’s been a few strange days since I arrived in Seoul on Saturday. During the week, we’ve settled into a easy, if not awkward routine.

We wake up in the morning, have breakfast, and he goes to work. We meet for lunch. I come home, work on a few columns, wait for him at the apartment. Sometimes we meet again outside for dinner. Other times, like today, we stay home and order in. We watch television. We chit chat. He falls asleep and soon, I follow. The day restarts.

It’s not a bad life. There are moments when it all makes sense. Like tonight, when apparently out of the blue, he takes my hand and says he loves me. His eyes are on the television but I know he sees me. I squeeze his hand, and even though I say nothing, we are completely understood.

But there are also moments when nothing makes sense. Like right now, as he is lying in bed, the knowledge that tomorrow will be our last night together weighs heavily on my mind.