Materialize

These days, sometimes it feels like my life has collided with a script of fiction. I've lived inside my head for the majority of my life, envisioning entire dialogues and acts that I never expected to materialize from these fermented daydreams into some iteration of reality.

We sit across the table from each other in the living room. He never cooks unless I'm visiting. This time, there is a dish of baked panko-breaded chicken and a bowl of quinoa and kale. We drink red wine from Starbucks mugs because we're too lazy to look for the glasses. The conversation jumps from topic to topic without feeling forced, and somehow we end up talking about our classmates. He tells me that it's funny to reflect on how much he misjudged certain people, and I ask him if he misjudged me. He says yes at first, and then pauses. He covers his eyes and lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh, until I suddenly realize that he's trying not to cry.

I walk to his side as he covers his face in embarrassment. He is still seated as I stand beside him and gently pull him towards me. When he finally manages to speak, he says he feels like I deserve someone better. That he can't believe his luck in how he managed to end up with someone like me. I stroke his back, his shoulders, and I tell him that I find myself thinking the same thing from time to time. That I've been waiting all my life for someone like him. You deserve this. You deserve all of this. My voice comes out in a low murmur, but the words aren't just for him. The words are just as much for me.