Something Tangible

His Turn

They walked arm in arm in companionable silence under the watchful eye of past presidents and America's founding fathers — Katarina in a daze, Steven in love.

He was paradoxically sad for Katarina's past, but excited for the future that he now envisioned with her.

For her part, Katarina felt a contradictory mix of relief and shock. She exorcised three years' worth of bitterness and pain. She felt lighter, but also stunned by her hate-filled invective — and Steven's nonjudgmental acceptance of it. No one had ever listened to her with such patience. They always either zone out or try to solve the unsolvable.

Katarina was bowled over by his kindness — a kindness that she hadn't given him credit for. She abruptly turned toward Steven, taking both of his hands in hers as if they were standing in front of the altar. Perplexed, he just eyed her apprehensively, both of them jumping to the wrong conclusions.

Is she going to break up with me again?

He probably thinks I'm going to spill my guts again.

"Thank you Steven," she began, searching for the words to convey the extent of her gratitude. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. "You allowed me to talk in a way no one ever has before. The truth is, no one has ever sat through my entire sordid ordeal — not even the damn psychiatrists I pay to listen to me."

He was astonished. How can anyone not want to hear what she has to say? I didn't even do anything.

"You just let me talk, which was so refreshing. People mean well but they always have this compulsion to give infertile women 'advice,' telling them to relax — you know, because that's so easy to do during the most stressful time of your life. Or not to worry because they know a friend of a friend who got pregnant at 45. What they don't tell you is that 45-year-old probably used a 20-year-old's eggs because she has less than a 1% chance of getting preggers on her own Or my personal favorite, try acupuncture — like some fucking meditation or needles up my ass are going to reverse a clinically diagnosed medical condition!"

His snort was contagious and Katarina found herself laughing as well, the small dose of comic relief strangely comforting.

"In all seriousness Steven, you helped rid me of demons I didn't even realize were still holding me hostage," her voice broke as she steeled herself. "Maybe they'll always have a hold on me, but their grip doesn't feel as suffocating. Thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it, how much your kindness means to me, overwhelms me — overwhelming in a good  way."

She stood on her tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss on the lips, not wanting to cross the boundaries that she herself drew a week ago, but rewarded him with a fierce hug.

Steven felt light-headed and held onto her  for support. Ensconced in her arms, which barely wrapped around the length of his back, Steven found a solace that had eluded him for 37 years. He wanted more but kept to the box she had put him in.

"Do you still want children Katarina?" he suddenly asked.

Her composure faltered. Steven automatically reached for her face, his large hands covering her cheeks as he stepped right outside that box again.

"You don't have to answer that Katarina," he said, tenderly gliding his thumb across her furrowed brow. "I didn't mean to pry. God knows I've done enough of that already."

"No it's fine. I like talking to you," she replied. He swept a few tendrils of hair out of her eye and kissed her forehead, closing his eyes. That box was inching further and further away.