Pancakes

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Sunday, January 18th.
He looks away from me, I can feel him tense up, I know he’s nervous.
I know him.

He opens his mouth to speak, and he pauses a moment before the words tumble out. “How about making this permanent?”. Its midday and we are still in bed, more than a little hung over, talking about how hungry we are but not motivated to get up. I’m fantasising about organic muesli with natural yoghurt and berries, and he wants a big super-greasy-with-everything-on-the-side-don’t-skimp-on-the-grease sensation. Or maybe we’ll make a massive batch of pancakes with icecream. Might have to get some maple syrup from the shop, but I think he has some banana we could put on top…

“Make what permanent?” I feign confusion. I know full well what he means. But I wait for him to elaborate. God I’m such a …. female.
“Us. Here. Together. Well, not HERE. But somewhere else. Our own place. Like …together. With stuff that’s like, ours”. He isn’t making much sense, but I get it.
“Move in together? ...Oh”. I fall silent, pausing to absorb how those three words sound on my tongue. Move…in…
“Have you thought about it?”, he says as he flips with a small grunt, onto his side. His eyes search my face.
“Yeah, sure I have. A couple of times”. More than a couple
“And what do you think?” Silence for a moment. And then a few moments more. I feel like he is about to pounce on me, he is coiled beside me as he prepares for my first and honest reaction.
“I’m not sure”. I’m absolute on this answer. I’m 50/50. Well, maybe 49/51.

I feel a little disorientated. I focus on the crack in the ceiling next to his yellow light bulb. I think it’s getting bigger. I ask him to let me think it over. I ask him if he is sure. I ask him to tell me for the hundredth time how much he loves me. I tell him that I think the crack in his ceiling is bigger. There are ground rules I say, things we need to clear before we go ahead. Now’s not the time to give you my concrete answer, let’s just let the idea sink in, talk about it again in a week or so.

But I can feel a buzz start to rise. It’s a humming under the skin, just like my first day of school, or Christmas morning. Sparks of excited nerves emanate from my spine, dance along my arms, and fizzle with a light pop! from my finger tips.
I giggle. I feel him sink happily into the mattress, and he smiles.
Pancakes it is.
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