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Tuesday, November 20, 2012

77 deadtime

. our greeting was more awarkward than i'd hoped . we sat .
 alan turned forty-five  degrees on on the bench so he could look at me .  i slipped off one of my shoes and crossed my leg so i could massage the red rails that i'd carved into the  top of my foot during my  ill-considred sprint .
. ater this last miscarriage , i said , that's it ." my body was telling me no . my brain was saying i couldn't do it again . as much as i want a baby , i...."
in the old days he would have taken over the massage . the man  could give a hell of a foot massage . not only as foreplay , either - he would rub my feet even if he knew there wasn't a prayer we'd have sex .
that time ? no . no offer t take over the foot massage . i  shifted my gaze toward him occasiuonally as i spoke . aln was big on eye contact . i wanted to be  certain he was paying attention . this was about my baby .
"eric  thought god was telling us something with the miscarriags .  that h had other plans . adoption .  he wasn't sure ." we'll know when we know ," he said ."
i waited for a judgment  from . aln . about eric  , and god . but alan's expression didn't chang . with alan that didn't mean much - if he want his face to be a mask , it would be a mask .
the eric /god thing was a discussion i didn't want to have with alan at that moment .

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