A Collection of Imagines

Timothée

Je t'aime

I sit in the cluttered New York apartment, looking out onto the view. Wildflowers planted in feeders on the balcony, stretching out to the polluted air of the city. Inside, the record player plays a few late 80s hits. Sketchbook in hand, drawing the landscape of Crema's most infamous church by memory. I'm no Catholic, but I did spend quiet a few hours waiting in front of that church. In the distance, I hear my phone ring. I get up from the plush chair and walk into the kitchen to find my landline chiming on the counter. I place my hand over the plastic and pick it up to rest it against my ear. "Hello?" The line goes static. "Hello?" I wait for another second, still static. I put down the phone and place it back on the counter. My hand grazes the granite, looking past the kitchen back to the half drawn church on the coffee table. The phone rings again. This time I'm slow to answer it. Counting down the seconds as it goes from the plastic holder to my ear. "Hello?"

"... Salut, ma belle femme."

My body freezes. My breathing heavies. My heart stops. I haven't heard from him in a year. "Mon bonne homme." The words had grown foreign in my mouth, but they aren't unwelcome.

"How's New York treating you?"

I'm slow to answer. Still in shock that he even bothered to call after all this time. When he went back to Crema, I thought I lost him forever. "Like it should."

"Hmm..."

I can practically hear him through the receiver that he's biting his lip in thought. I didn't know I would miss the gesture so much now that I'm thinking about it. "How did you get my telephone number?"

"Marzia told me you were still in New York ... so I asked. I hope that's alright."

"Marzia?" I bite down on my lip. Great, he's talking to her again. "You're still in Crema then."

"For now."

A silence falls on both of us. Never awkward. It was never awkward with him. No matter what. I sigh into the receiver. He does, too. I smile at it.

"The nights are still vast here. Just like the ones you were here for. Listen."

I hear as he moves the receiver out of what I imagine his bedroom window. I hear the loud crickets, the chirping of birds and the distance sound of church bells. The same one I was drawing a minute prior to this phone call. I lean against the counter as I listen. I feels like it goes on for hours. I imagine him leaning against the brass balcony, staring off into the night with his receiver high up into the air. He's wearing another band tee with his swim trunks still on. Barefoot. His long curly hair spiraling into the night. I close my eyes at the image. Wanting so terribly to slip into it. I hear the receiver go static for a second, but then the sudden steady breathing of the man that stole my heart all those months ago. I imagine breathing with him on that balcony while he pushes me into it.

"Tu me manque."

I huff out a breath I didn't know I was holding. My eyes start filling with tears and memories flood through my brain. "Moi aussi." I walk towards the chair in the middle of the living room. I wrap my fingers around the spiral cord of the plastic phone. I sit down and look out to the view in front of me. "I hate you for the way you left." The line goes static again. A tear finally breaking the barrier. Gliding down my face. Memories of him kissing me before climbing a taxi for JFK. The words 'I'm so sorry' repeating over and over like a never ending cycle. Nothing can silence it. Not even him.

"I know. I'm so sorry."

I take the phone away from my ear, not wanting to hear it again. I sob into my open palm. The front door opens. Heavy footprints enter the living room. I wipe my sadness away from my face and quickly turn towards him to offer a falsified smile. "Hey."

"Hey, Marco is going to meet us soon, so I'm going to change out of these clothes. You almost ready?"

"Yeah." He leans down to place a kiss on my mouth. Leaning back up to gaze at my face, and I try hard to hide my longing. He walks into the hallway and closes the bedroom door. I look back at the view in front of me and place the phone back to my ear.

"Come back. Come back to me, ma femme."

I get up from the chair and walk towards the kitchen. "You should've asked me a year ago, mon homme." I walk to the edge of the counter, un-twirling the cord from my fingers as I go.

"Je t'aime."

I stop before placing the phone back on the holder. I take a deep breath and look down the hallway. The man that I spent a whole year with is changing into dress pants in our shared bedroom. And I stand here trying to imagine the boy that I spent most of my summers in Northern Italy with, who wears swim trucks everyday. The man that made me forget the boy stands at the edge of the hallway buckling his shoes. The boy that showed how love and life should play out is breathing into the receiver. The man that showed me stability and safe admiration grabs his coat from the hanger next to the front door. The boy that brought the light out in me and then took it away when he left sobs silently into the phone. I whisper into mine, "Je t'aime aussi." I bring down phone onto the plastic holder, ending the call before he can say another word. I stare at the reflective plastic and through it, I can see the man approach me with my coat in hand.

"Ready?"

It takes me a second to snap me back to reality. I turn to him and nod my head. "Yeah." I grab my coat from his hand and gives me a bright smile. I clutch his hand and open the front door. He closes it behind me.