what do you think it means when the birds sing at midnight?
I hear you calling my name, but my eyes open to the dark, lonely hours of 12am. You’re nowhere to be found. I tell myself it was just a dream despite being unable to recall any visual images. Just the sound of your voice; warm, inviting, and familiar. I always imagined home would be a place. A roof, a bed, a nice big tub. But the feeling I always pictured having when I found my dream home was ignited in your presence. I felt safe, loved, and provided for. I felt held in a way I’d never felt before, like we’d known one another before and couldn’t bear to lose each other again.
I roll over to turn the lamp on. I’ve been dehydrated lately — probably from crying too much. Sometimes I think of when I kissed the tears off your cheeks in that Inglewood hotel room. How you laughed and hugged me and I melted into a puddle of joy and contentment. I was never this soft before you, having been hardened by memories of betrayal. With you not around, I feel myself becoming hard again. I didn’t realize how much easier it was to breathe knowing I had your support until I didn’t have it anymore.
The light from the fridge trails along the kitchen floor as I refill the Brita. I wonder how long your hair is now, if you’re still trying to grow it out. My beautiful boy. I miss burying my hands in your curls, playing in them until you were sound asleep. I wonder if someone else does that for you now. Do you lay your head on her chest the way you did mine? Do you caress her face the way you did mine? Absentmindedly, tenderly, lovingly. Oh my God. Do you let her use the front cupholder in your car? I slam the refrigerator closed and remind myself she doesn’t exist; I just made her up.
I look up and my eyes meet yours, photographed and hanging on the fridge. My breathing slows. I remember this day. We were driving around Los Angeles, killing time before you had to take me back to the airport, which is the worst part of all long distance relationships. “What would you do if I went missing for five years and, when I came back, you were married with a kid?” I asked. We were always asking each other ridiculous questions; it was how we’d built such a strong foundation of honesty and trust. You’d replied that you weren’t sure. Five years was a long time and so many hearts were at stake. I liked this answer. You were an honorable man, which was one of the many reasons I’d fallen in love with you. Five years is a long time. So is three months. I wonder what you’ve been up to.
I lie back in bed with a sigh. This mattress is far too big for one person and I miss having you sleep closest to the door. Sometimes I get scared of the dark and what might lie on the other side of the threshold. I smile as I think about the time you checked the closet for me. You’d made a joke about someone hiding in there and I couldn’t stop thinking about it as I’d tried to fall asleep. My knight in shining armor. I wish I had someone now to protect me from the ghost of you and how it's been haunting my room, chasing me out of sleep.
I get under the blankets and adjust my pillow. In the dead of night, I hear a chirp. One bird turns into two turns into four. I look at the clock. 12:25am. What do you think it means when the birds sing at midnight?
I hope it means you’re up and thinking of me, too.