An exquisite excerpt from Andre Aciman's brief and beautiful book, 'Call Me By Your Name.' This passage towards the end overturned me:
I imagined being in his car asking myself, who knows, would I want to, would he want to, perhaps a nightcap at the bar would decide, knowing that, all through dinner that evening, he and I would be worrying about the exact same thing, hoping it might happen, praying it might not, perhaps a nightcap at the bar would decide - I could just read it on his face as I pictured him looking away while uncorking a bottle of wine or while changing the music, because he too would catch the thought racing through my mind and want me to know he was debating the exact same thing, because, as he'd pour the wine for his wife, for me, for himself, it would finally dawn on us both that he was more me than I had ever been myself, because when he became me and I became him in bed so many years ago, he was and would forever remain, long after every forked road in life had done its work, my brother, my friend, my father, my son, my husband, my lover, myself. In the weeks we'd been through together that summer, our lives had scarcely touched, but we had crossed to the other bank, where time stops and heaven reaches down from earth and gives us that ration of what is from birth divinely ours. We looked the other way. We spoke about everything but. But we've always known, and now saying anything now confirmed it all the more. We had found the stars, you and I. And this is given once only.
Hope my readership is well and safe. Love, Kate
I imagined being in his car asking myself, who knows, would I want to, would he want to, perhaps a nightcap at the bar would decide, knowing that, all through dinner that evening, he and I would be worrying about the exact same thing, hoping it might happen, praying it might not, perhaps a nightcap at the bar would decide - I could just read it on his face as I pictured him looking away while uncorking a bottle of wine or while changing the music, because he too would catch the thought racing through my mind and want me to know he was debating the exact same thing, because, as he'd pour the wine for his wife, for me, for himself, it would finally dawn on us both that he was more me than I had ever been myself, because when he became me and I became him in bed so many years ago, he was and would forever remain, long after every forked road in life had done its work, my brother, my friend, my father, my son, my husband, my lover, myself. In the weeks we'd been through together that summer, our lives had scarcely touched, but we had crossed to the other bank, where time stops and heaven reaches down from earth and gives us that ration of what is from birth divinely ours. We looked the other way. We spoke about everything but. But we've always known, and now saying anything now confirmed it all the more. We had found the stars, you and I. And this is given once only.
Hope my readership is well and safe. Love, Kate
