She was a gorgeous wonderful woman of tall slim constitution. They had once flitted one by the other in languid quick-step along Liverpool Road. That moment of recognition never left the either of them. That was the moment they crossed that curiously delicious frontier between knowing each other in mutual respect and wanting to know each other in total abandon.
She was the kind of woman you never would mistake for the kind of woman you’d mistake for anything. She was firm in her thoughts, her way of thinking; she was firm in her hold, almost manly in its power; she was firm in her opinions, but never opinionated; in the end she was firm, as were all her family, in taking life and meeting it head-on, and never forgetting the knowledge and wisdom it might offer.
And for a few intimate days – and then far more distant months – she was the caped crusader he’d never heard of: almost a woman of unearthly superpowers: at least, with him; at least, on him. And maybe it was magic; and maybe it was more a weird latterday chemistry; and maybe it was something he’d still not worked out.
Then it collapsed under the weight of his indecision. And things like that do not get remade unless both parties remain under the heady parasols of love’s summertime haze.
After eleven years or so, for him it was the case. He did remain, every day of his life, in the haze that were the ways they had lived.
And although he could see he was moving on slowly, his life moved on much faster than he’d liked.
He realised now, for sure, that home and love would need separating. It was a curious thing to suddenly believe in: he’d been brought up by a mother of devout Catholic belief. He couldn’t quite rid himself of certain spasmodic actions, which temporarily incapacitated him for broader and braver and more coherent behaviours.
It didn’t happen so often these days, mind.
Nor did he really mind either, any more.
And like some DC fan, he imagined her sinking one day from the sky, her cape fluttering around him and embracing his frozen soul: and then warming him up until within his very core an explosion of light might bring to him some semblance of the roar of victory he felt that time they walked together, arm in arm along Liverpool Road, as they found themselves crossing that curiously delicious frontier between knowing each other with mutual respect and wanting each other in total abandon.