Pieces of Forever

He let her wear her coat and it swallowed her. Eyes, ears, mouth, only her laugh protruded from the hood a tinnish and obtrusive reminder of the girl inside. She wasted no time opening the backdoor and climbing over the wall of snow that had accumulated just beyond the sunroom. She stomped hard and large, legs like tree trunks rooted somewhere beneath the decades of snow. He laughed from the door at her childish antics as she struggled to maneuver first one leg and then the other. She stomped further away, giant gashes in the pristine expanse shadowed behind her. And finally she stopped, exhausted, and lay flat on her back staring straight up at the sky reflecting back at her. The world seemed to be just stitching at that point, just a hem meant to hold together two planar expanses. Snow and sky, both so simple. Both so forever. The moment of childhood faded now she picked herself up from the ground. He was waiting in the doorway, arms open, smile wide and brimming. Once in his arms, she wondered if this was forever too, if such simplicity could stay forever or if sometimes it became clouded or simply melted away. As she peeled off the soaked layers he piled a few logs into the fireplace and crowded pieces of newspaper around them. By the time she ventured into the living room the fire was licking insatiably at the logs. He beckoned her over to the couch and she smoothed herself over him, the two of them adjusting to eachothers' curves for a few moments. As she lay upon his chest she wondered if he would always be her reflection when she looked up, or if eventually she would have to face herself.
    He fell asleep beneath her as the fire died before them and she thought of Nate. It hadn't always been Christopher's chest she pressed her cheek to, Christopher's lips she pushed hers against. Nate had come before, had taught her silly board games and tickled her incessantly. With Nate she had been different, dressed differently, talked differently, spoke of different things. Now with Christopher they spoke of politics often- of partisan candidates and ballot boxes. With Nate they had discussed art- Monet, Matisse, Eakins. Before Nate it had been Evan- they had discussed music; chords, melodies, concerts. And each time she shifted just a little, just enough to fit their curves, to fit in their arms. Christopher shifted beneath her and she recoiled just a little, moving her head further underneath his neck. His breath was calm upon her head. The first time they had lain like this together he had remarked about how well she fit in her arms, 'a perfect fit' he proclaimed as though this were some accomplishment. He had kissed her upon the head fleetingly. She had smiled and settled against him thinking of how both Evan and Nate had said similar things. With Nate she had been practical. Warm sweaters, precise words, unobtrusive cadence. With Evan she had been comfortable, tank tops and jeans, simple language, agreeable sighs. And now with Christopher she was more abrasive, low-cut blouses, hard language, challenging inflections. It had always been an easy shift.
    There was a point in each relationship when she recognized an attachment forming, when she began to love the way each one smiled, or moved, or spoke. At this point, when she could feel him looking at her from a distance, when she could see the love in his eyes she began to pull away. She began to call less, to speak less, to smile less. And then she would fight more, struggle more against their love. With Evan he had been so ready to please her. She picked small fights, spit out words edged with barbed wire- designed to slice. She took immense pleasure in the pained expression that she left on his face. Eventually, the love in his eyes had dimmed and she extinguished it with a pained hug and calculated words about remaining friends. He had nodded solemnly knowing it was for the best and she had walked out from his life. That afternoon she had cried in a parking lot as pouring rain came down around her car. She had wondered as the radio twined throughout the car why love intimidated her so much- why she would not allow herself to be loved. A few days later she had met Nate.
  She had been determined to make this relationship different. She wrote letters with laboriously wispy words and curled words of forever around his ears as he kissed her neck. At first, this was perfect. And then he noticed the way his gaze lingered upon her eyes as though he was searching for some part of her to make his own, to claim as his forever. She began to push and pull away. She frowned more and disagreed with each word, with each sound he made. She chided him for things she used to find cute- calling him inappropriate. Eventually, the light had dimmed sufficiently and the calls became less frequent. She finally ended it over coffee, he was stirring in spirals of sugar and she saw his tortured expression- begging her to free him. And so she simply said that they weren't working, that they had been fighting more and more and it was all her fault. He had nodded, not looking up from his coffee. "Maybe we'll work better in a few months, when I am less stressed over work". He had nodded again and her words fell around them, slicing whatever thin yarn still held them together.
  Christopher had come soon after. She looked at his face now, so comfortable with her in his arms and slowly she pulled herself off of him and went over to the fire. She threw a few more logs on top and as the flame began to consume them he stirred calmly on the couch. 'Hey you, why so far away?"
"The fire was dying, I figured I would keep it going for a little while longer"
He nodded, smiling and trying to catch her eyes with his.
"Well come on back over."
She smiled a rather fleeting smile and uncontrollably she shrugged and turned her back to him.
"Maybe in a little, I was going to make some tea."
She looked up at the sky through the window as she walked toward the kitchen and decided that for her their was no forever, she refused to be stitched together with anyone.