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Looking at the second empty can of beer, then the clock then back to the can and that was all I needed to light a cigarette, sit on the couch and flip through channels. Of all nights, his boss chose tonight for an additional meeting to fix the problems, the night planned so carefully.
I had no choice than waiting for K to arrive.
I was nervous and I couldn’t find a way to relax nor a reason for my nervousness because I was aware of its stupid source.

After putting A to bed and washing the dirty dishes, nothing was left to do than relaxing on the couch and wait for the inevitable called K. That was when the only word I could think of was “insecurity”.

More or less, the reason behind my lack of communication was those feelings of insecurity or was it something else?
insecurity: the anxiety you experience when you feel vulnerable and lacking self-confidence or assurance
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The memory is pretty vague now, still I can remember a few things….
When I was a kid, I used to be moody and aggressive. Surely what I call aggressive still looks like a well-behaved kid to others but for my father, it was unacceptable and I needed strict discipline.
My mother decided to take responsibility and turn me into a well-behaved child.Having a tender kind soul, all my mother did was asking me to cut pieces of paper into 1×1 inches squares and color them depending on my mood. It was blue for wrath, green for happiness and orange for depression. For sure it all looked extremely ridiculous to me but by the time I started painting those small pieces the assigned colors and discarding them in a small box afterwards, I had more control over my feelings. It took me a long time to realize how it helped me manage my anger and become the patient person I am now. And last night I thought about drawing little squares and coloring them, however I couldn’t decide on the color.
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When he got home, it was some time after nine, he looked exhausted and hungry so I tried to pretend all I wanted to do was feeding him and getting back to the book I left on the couch without reading a line. His dinner and shower lasted a lot shorter than I expected and I ended up washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen to avoid him.
When I got back to the sitting-room he was waiting for me, looking longingly at me patting the space near him on the couch. He looked absolutely innocent trying hard to be patient and behave so I made my mind and gave up to the little talk we’d put off for a long time.
I sat there tense before he closed the space between us, wrapping his arms around me and seeking for some heat. That took him only a few seconds before grimacing at the smell of cigarette and beer and moving into a distance.
I’m not sure how long we talked, I can’t even remember the exact words we talked about, yet he was unusually quiet and patient, even a little scary.
The talking was good and made me realize how selfish I’ve been to him.
Did it make me feel comfortable? Not a little bit.
Poor K was too tired to do anything than falling sleep in my arms, I can even say he slept peacefully though I didn’t sleep much. Only holding him close and thinking of the many possibilities there would be for us that I don’t want to hear of.