I keep having these dreams. Sex dreams about me and Doe. Except his face. It keeps interchanging between Doe, Best, and then an unknown. Staring out this window reminds me of Best. He fixed it after so many months of it being broken - consequence of a drunken house guest. It's funny that the first thought that comes to me when it comes to him isn't sex. It's an unnamed feeling that holds me in place; it's almost indescribable. He is good though. We've done it in places I wouldn't even think people would have sex. He brings truth to the saying "covered the house". Most people name rooms, I'm talking spots in rooms. Don't think the hallway, think the wall of the door, no falling. Don't think bathroom, think the corner where the living room turns into the bathroom. Don't think shower, think the edge of the tub while the hot water is running....then think shower. Maybe I'm exaggerating the spots versus the rooms but I think the pictures in my head is doing it for me.
Doe has been really sweet. Flowers every Friday. Brings home dinner, not even fussing about whenever I don't feel like attempting to cook. The only thing I had mastered was that shrimp dinner. But the thought of making it makes me feel as if I'll get another phone call from him being "late at work" again. So I don't even bother with it. He talks to me about my book. Gives me ideas, ones I'll never use but ideas nonetheless. He took me out to an expensive restaurant when I delivered my work to my publisher. Of course I made him believe that he brought back energy into my life but really, he had nothing to do with it. And then one night he asked, "Why don't we want to adopt again?" "Again"as in we've already had this conversation tens of millions of times in the past and apparently his memory keeps slipping him after every conversation. I didn't even address him. I thought he was trying to make up for leaving me and still being married to someone else. True, marriage is only a piece of paper but legally the man has a wife. But no, he was buttering me up like hot toast to foreplay me into adoption. The only response I wanted to ask was, "What do we tell the social worker? That your wife has to pay child support? Or ask them, 'do I?'"
