A is for Agua, Asking, and Again

“Fanta, cola, cerveza, agua!” chanted for the umpteenth time the teenage seller of sugary liquids. The glass bottles clanked against each other with each step the boy took towards the arena. 

Sugary, but one. Having been limited to water for so many years, I devoured them all. But agua kept a special place in my life, no matter what. A recurrent theme, if you ask me. Spinning the bottle after the ballet class: first touch, first taste, first kiss. The giant claw-foot bathtub in Hudson Valley where Aldous soaked me for hours; the bastard knew all too well how it intensified the pain of vicious spankings that followed. Mediterranean Sea that tied Nick to me once and for all. The scolding hot shower that washed away the blood of my knuckles. More drama, more water. Until N. compared the ocean water to mikveh that cleanses and heals, and I believed her.

Then why on earth would I wish it upon myself again? Why do I see myself with my six-feet-three giant, with whom I finally have a chance of some normalcy, covered in heaps of lavender foam, pruning my fingers away, and after that, bending over the tub’s edge, baring myself to him, eager to receive the pain? I can see it so vividly: the puddle on the floor with an accidental bubble floating on the rainbow surface, the wooden handle of the bath brush on the low bench, the stack of the whitest towels next to it, and my wet skin, covered in goosebumps, not from the cold air around but from the anticipation and from the need to ask. 

Because that day will arrive, when I will have to ask, explain, and ask again. How his beautiful face will turn pale, and the eyes will widen in disbelief, while mine will flush from the embarrassment. Nick has some weird relationship with pain; I cannot pinpoint it yet, but he winces from the smallest discomfort. How can I explain to him that I crave the pain, the same pain he shies away from the smallest slivers of it? The tremendous unimaginable pain, delivered in the most humiliating way, through inevitable screams, tears, and snot. To be inflicted upon me by the one I love. 

Asking, the first and the hardest part.

PS I'm back, in time for the April A to Z. Missed my blogging friends and posting here...