Happiness

Jonathan Humanoid

Happiness moved into my spare bedroom. It's a one bedroom so I'm trying not to question his presence but I'm grateful to have the apartment filled with laughter and conversation.  Even the times that he's not here don't feel like loneliness.  I enjoy the peace of my own company. 

Happiness wants to bond. He decides to  take me out to the club. We head to the train station to catch the train into L.A. I look across the platform and waiting for the opposite track is everyone that I have loved so much I thought I needed them to breathe,  the breaths that I did not take when they were gone,  that I loved despite how much they hurt me, that loved me despite how much I hurt them,  that I loved like grasping that love like the string of a drifting balloon would keep them close. 

Happiness puts an arm around my shoulder to gently guide me back to my seat.  He says,  and it feels like it cannot be that simple,  he says we are no longer going the same direction. Let them go. 

We get to the club and it is loud. The room does not have room for more bodies. Happiness makes a motion to dance.  He puts his hands on my shoulders when I shrink into the feeling that I don't belong.  The sound of jubilation
 surrounding me is a call to join. 
When the next song comes on I feel it like the finger of a lover,  tracing along my skin.  I experience it pushing the embarrassment out of my body and filling the space that took up. Happiness pushes me gently onto the dance floor.  I move without thinking and I am the music.  I can do this forever.  

We dance until the last song ends and it doesn't feel like hours but it's guaranteed that we'll be sore tomorrow.  We wear exhaustion and smiles as if they have been accesorizing our outfits the whole night.  And I feel confident in how I look.  

On the Uber home we talk excitedly about future plans, for us living together,  for our futures, what we're getting for lunch tomorrow.  Then a natural  silence covers us like a blanket to provide just the right amount of warmth. I don't panic at the quiet. I don't feel a need to shove words into the lull. I settle into the moment.  The night calms. My smile feels different.  The car continues moving.  We'll be home soon and the day will end.  I can't know what tomorrow will be, but I try not to focus on that.