This story was written before I had collected all the stories for my book, even before I started structuring and writing the book. But the moment it was ready I knew it had to become part of it. And so it is now a chapter that you can find in Labelled Love. You can still enter the competition and win a paperback copy of the book here.
Diese Geschichte hab ich geschrieben bevor ich anfing die Geschichten für mein Buch zu sammeln und zusammenzustellen, aber von dem Moment an da sie fertig war, wusste ich, dass sie ein Teil des Buches werden muss. Und so ist sie nun in Labelled Love zu finden. Ihr könnt immer noch am Gewinnspiel teilnehmen und eine Taschenbuchausgabe des Buches gewinnen.
“I miss him.” Rosie said.
“Well, that’s not very like you.” Poppy replied.
“Yeah, I know. Normally, I rarely miss anyone. Not because they don’t mean anything to me, don’t get me wrong, but I never actually felt the need to miss them, you know. I carry them with me in my heart anyway and I think of them and keep in contact with them. I could go away for weeks without missing anyone, you see. I mean, I am happy to meet them again and looking forward to meeting them again and sometimes can’t wait to see them again, but that is something different. And when talking about missing, I don’t mean this search for company that grows on everybody from time to time, as this kind of wanting company is not individual enough to call it missing. And I’m not talking about the way of missing that is based on physical or even sexual needs, you know. Neither am I talking about this kind of romantic thought of missing someone, where you tear yourself apart and can’t think of anything else than the person you miss, you see.”
Poppy looked up from her steaming cup of tea and shook her head. “Nah, that wouldn’t be much like you, either.”
“When I say I miss him, I’m talking about something different. Not about missing company in general or missing the bodily aspect of it all. I’m talking about the silent presence of his next to mine, this comforting atmosphere that spreads around and within me when he’s there. And I’m not depicting some kind of these moving cinema scenes where people haven’t seen each other for a while and run towards each other and embrace heartily with all the passion a person can possess. No, the scene I’m picturing is different. We would meet and say ‘Hi’, talk about the weather and how things went. We would stand next to each other, waiting for the next tube. And eventually his warm hand would slide between my cold fingers, giving my veins this impulse that would go straight through every fibre of my body and warm my heart again. I would smile at that and stretch myself, stand on my tiptoes to reach his ear and whisper ‘Kiss me, Jonny!’. And suddenly the world would be complete again.”
Gina Laventura © 2013