Matthew — Soft and Deep

Jordan's upset. I'm not sure what about; she says she's fine. But I can tell. I know her tones by now. She often won't tell me right away if something's wrong; doesn't want to bother me, I suppose. But if I ask, she'll usually talk. This time, she isn't saying anything. I'm worried it may be serious, whatever's troubling her, but I can't make her tell me. She can be stubborn.

It's a foolish thing to be thinking about, this time of night, I know; particularly considering everything going on the world. But all I can concentrate on right now is Jordan. I should sleep, but I can't. I only hear her voice — suddenly soft; not shy, like she sometimes is, or bubbly, but quiet, almost tired. She's such a bright girl. Woman, I guess. Joyous, always cheerful. Suddenly — not.

I remember another time when she was so quiet; but it was a different kind of softness. She came over one night during my leave this summer. We were almost entirely alone, and certainly the only people in that part of the house. We actually just sat down and watched an old movie together, curled up on the couch, me and her alone in that darkness — she prefers to watch movies with the lights out. She got cold and it got late, so she was leaning against me, tucked up in a blanket she'd hunted out. As the movie ended, her eyelashes fluttered a little, and she drew in a deep breath, and nudged closer to me.

And fell asleep.

Part of me wanted to laugh, but part of me . . . well, liked it.

Something made me kiss her then, softly as she slept. And she smiled in her sleep, as though she knew, and sighed, and whispered my name. Maybe she wasn't fully asleep.

I know that sounds normal, but it isn't. I rarely kiss Jordan, even when she's awake. We've been dating for a while, but our relationship somehow isn't like that. I'm not even sure why anymore, except that I'm not like that. It isn't her.

But that night . . . Jordan has these golden curls that just . . . flow over her shoulders, and they spilled across mine, too, that night. And long eyelashes, brushing her cheeks . . . It's odd. She's so beautiful, really; I just don't usually notice it. I get unsure around her. I don't have the clarity of mind to notice a sweet smile or eyelashes or curls most times. But when she's quiet like that . . . I wish I could see her like that more often. A little more serious.

But not too serious. She wouldn't be Jordan without that smile, and the laugh.

I don't know what I want at all, do I?

posted at 7:27 p.m. on 04-12-03