The Distance From Shoulder To Wrist

Mark's been considering home ownership for a few months. He saved up a bunch of cash and found a place he likes and put in an offer. Of course, his credit sucks, but he's been working at that, too, and, all in all, I'm kinda thrilled for him. He's such a sweet boy, so full of natural kindness and general enthusiasm, that he really only deserves happiness.

The house is very beautiful, infused with a harmonious, peaceful vibe and next to a lovely, shimmery park. I call it the tic-tac-toe kisses house, because it has a brick pattern that looks like a big tic-tac-toe X, and we all know X means kisses, too. So I wanna see my boy in the house of his dreams, but, sadly, his poor credit seems to be preventing this from going as smoothly as possible, and, well, that's not so great.

Then, this Saturday, was kinda non-climactic. I had been running a fever all day and hadn't accomplished anything more grand than picking up the new Cole Haan Air Beau skimmers. Actually, that was quite wonderful, partly because they are great shoes, but also because the marvelous salesman there admitted straight away to being a Midnight Culmination reader, which split my face into a dazzling smile the whole time I was in the store. So, really, it was just the nighttime that was kind of dull.

We went to The Dubliner, which was cool, but not super-exciting or anything. We went to HPC and, just as we were beginning to roll with any ferocity, Mark dropped the rest of the loot and went into a violent, if momentary, depression. We went to Plant Park, because we are dorky enough to think you can't outgrow playing in parks, but it was too cold. We decided to toss in the towel and went home, but I was still feeling very lighthearted, anyway, since, really, the best and worst of all problems can always be solved with a homegrown combination of affection and steam.

By three o'clock, Mark was sitting across the room from me, dangling a cigarette.

"We must really love each other," he said.

"I guess so. We've certainly put up with enough from each other, but we still always have a great time, don't we?"

"We sure could be happy together."

"We already are," I smiled.

"We sure could be happy in the tic-tac-toe kisses house," he said.

"Yeah . . . I don't know."

"Hmm," he mulled, climbing back into bed. "We definitely suffer the fate of arms-length lovers."


"Whaddaya mean?"

"We love each other. We've been together forever. We have all sorts of plans for the future, but it's still your place and mine. We don't trust each other that if we moved in together it wouldn't be horrible."

I sorta shrugged, because, well, he's right, but, over the course of the next day, he just kept talking about all the different ways we're super-happy until I somehow became convinced that, really, there is no point in having all the love and history and plans if there's no trust, so f*ck it, let's give it another try.

So, in the end, I told Mark I'd go for it, and then we sorta dropped it until nighttime when he brought it up for a minute, and we were both pretty pleased. This morning, too, before breakfast, he asked if I was still down, and I said I was, and I spent a good portion of the morning making the financial arrangements to move forward, a mostly simple progress in my circumstance, but still time-consuming. I mean, seriously, I spent a good couple hours on the phone and made my accountant hustle a little, too, which isn't free.

Then, this afternoon, Mark called to tell me that his real estate agent was going to find another appraiser so as to create the appropriate loan-to-value ratio for him to get the financing he needs.

"That way I can do it myself," he said.

I think I said something vacant and full of entirely insincere cheer like, "Oh, well, that's good, baby. Let me know how it turns out. I better get back to work now."

I could tell by his response that he thought we were gonna chit-chat a little more, but I just couldn't, because as much as it wasn't really my idea and as much as I'm not really in love with the 'Burg, once I agreed, I really was down, and I had this moment of such cavernously hollow disappointment, I felt my throat close up and tears flood my eyeballs, so I just had to go, because I simply could not imagine casting any bad feelings over this house he wants so badly. The house is really just perfect for him, and I'll always want him to be as happy as he can be in it.

But, arm's length, you know? Sometimes, I wish I wasn't such a silly girl, as quick with tears as I am with smiles.