11

Leila

            So they’ve brought you here.

Socorro reminds me daily how deeply you burrowed into my being.

Without sound nor fury, just those soulful black eyes.

After all the sound and fury with Eden, you suited me.

It did take almost seven years.

I learned all about comfort. You would sit close to me with your acoustic guitar, strum a few chords, and start to sing an old folk song. You would play hide and seek with Goal and her little Swiss friends for hours. You would take the sand paper out of my hand and finish the corner that had to be sanded down.

And you listened so well.

For hours.

For days.

Through my long silences.

Strung together my little stories like worry beads, as if getting ready for a rosary.

Comfort.

The old farm house in LaVaud wrapped around us like the softest Alnese cashmere blanket, a cocoon of routine punctured by the occasional excitement of your touring. Another advantage of hooking up with a musician, especially one good enough to find steady work on Earth. Goal and I grew quite spoiled.

And after seven years, I let the comfort take root and express itself, embody itself inside of me.

Comfort.

Love.

And that’s when all the trouble between us started.

Isn’t it?