When Robert was late, an hour more so than usual, i grew tense . By now i should be accustomed to these delays but i am always surprised by the intensity of worry it induces in me. It was not a worry i felt as a young girl. Then i used to long for a protraction of Robert's delay so that i could have those few precious minutes free. I would swing on the tree bough, reading my Enid blyton, sucking on candy. These moments of solitude were most precious to me. I valued them immensely.
When Robert arrived i rushed up to hug him tightly. We exchanged a long kiss where desire and relief were intermingled. Today, more than ever i yearned for him physically. The energy of my ardour must have excited him too. While the meat roasted we made passionate love. Afterwards i felt tense and nervous and not sated as i usually would. Robert had his supper and went to sleep. His gentle snores attested to a familiar pattern i cherished.
Yet how familiar was it? By the time the servant came tomorrow the mess would be tidied up, a space of rectitude established. Robert would be reading his newspaper while i'd be busy, like a wife, in the kitchen but not possessive or solicitous. Rather my ministrations would be detached . We believed that a seemly orderliness would keep chaos at bay, keep the outer from encroaching on the inner. But the inner dictated our life to such an extent that we couldn't disavow it or negate it. It spawned patterns that shaped our outer. It gave form to the inchoate uncertainty of the outer. But it was an unacknowledged inner.
We never felt the need to acknowledge it. It seemed part of a process. I can't pinpoint with certitude as to when my relationship with Robert changed. We fought a lot and then suddenly we became lovers. I used to wear his clothes to inhale his scent, feel the frayed wool scratch my skin and abrade it pleasurably. Thus, i thought, i partook of the physicality of his presence. Before we coupled i went through agonies of sexual yearning. I was insatiably desiring and it was unfocused and diffuse. Robert was not so much a choice as a centring of the erotic impulses that gnawed me without and within. Custom seemed irrelevant, conventionalities i could thoughtlessly relinquish. It was the preponderance of desire that drew me to Robert. I made a blueprint of him subsequently, retroactively. By then the corporeal impulse had created other forms of closeness . I could not forego these accoutrements or revert back to a primal pattern which, beyond the realization of an impulse, proved incompensatory.
Eventually though, a surreptitious pattern was inveigled. I consciously disallowed misgivings to insinuate. But i felt the need, inveterately, to conceal my voracity from the outside world. People must know and they must be talking about us. It seems superfluous. Whether he is a conduit or an agent Robert has opened up for me vistas and avenues of love that are inexpressible yet irrepressible. They say familiarity breeds contempt. I'd rather celebrate this contempt than countenance a continuous unfamiliarity.