Written on my skin

August 22nd. On Wednesday, B brought over dinner and a selection of foreign films. He made something with green curry for me because that’s my favorite curry, and he made me my own loaf of cheddar jalapeño bread because the last loaf he made had cheese with rennet and he felt bad that I couldn’t eat it. Lastly, he brought a mystery box and put it in the fridge. (Chocolate covered strawberries. No, he didn’t make them.)

Well, that wasn’t all he brought. He also found the English version of Olivia and we compared it to the Russian one. Amazingly, they seem to be strikingly different–not word-for-word translation at all! Whole sentences added in Russian, even. This discovery prompted us to open google translator, something I’d never looked at. Much fun ensued. B pasted in the first few paragraphs of Pride and Prejudice, translated it to Russian, and then we listened to the magic-google-lady voice read it. Wow. We tried Yiddish and Hebrew and German and Polish, though audio wasn’t always an option. I suppose we’re pretty nerdy.

I’d also stopped in at the university bookstore (to get my new pretty pretty journal) and picked up a book from the sale shelf: That’s Amore! Words of Love for Lovers of Language. It has terms of endearment, declarations, etc. spelled phonetically from all over the world. Russian has a phrase that means ‘thank you for existing,’ but the literal translation is ‘Thank you that you are on the light.’ Isn’t that lovely? I memorized it to tell B upon his arrival: Spasiba shto tiy yest na sveti. And yes, I was a bit nervous about a book entitled ‘that’s love,’ but it was only a dollar, and I kept it light as we flipped through it. It fit with our oft-discussed topic of nicknames. As in, “Ugh, that one means ‘little bunny.’ Don’t call me that.”

Again, we did not end up watching anything. We stayed clothed and on the couch this time though. (I was feeling pre-menstrual breast tenderness and had a cloth liner on, just in case. I thought about letting B know the state of things, but couldn’t quite bring it up.) We tossed the cushions off the couch to give ourselves more room and kissed and snuggled. I thought a lot about my Sunday night revelation and whether or not to bring it up. Finally, I said, “So–what I wrote on Sunday…did you get it?”

B answered, “I wrote it back.”

“You did?!”

“Yeah. Right here.” He touched the skin between my collarbones.

“I didn’t get it!” I said.

And so, as I held very still, he wrote it again, joining his thumb and forefinger to form the O and splitting them apart to make the V.

I didn’t know what to say. He didn’t say anything either. There was lots more kissing and hugging with all our might, accompanied by contented, “Mmmmms!”

We ate strawberries and he went home.

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