LOVE AND LANGUAGE

 By Andrea Downing

An earlier version of this post appeared somewhere else, I have no idea where, it was so long ago…

He walks into the room and your heart does a happy dance for a moment, your insides melt and your smile widens to a half moon.  That wisp of possession runs through you as he stops to talk to someone else, giving you a slantways private smile, his eyes telling you he’s bored but had to say hello to this person.  Then, as he releases himself from the irksome duty, nods pleasantly to various persons as he weaves his way toward you, and finally drapes an arm around your shoulder, electrifying you so that your mouth now aches with the even bigger smile, your sense of belonging sends all sorts of pleasurable ‘naughty thoughts’ past your mind’s eye.

OR…

He walks into the room and you automatically glance down at your watch, the crevice between your eyes deepening, but you attempt to keep that smile plastered on your face for the little group with whom you’re currently engaged.  Your face hardens and your eyes pop as he stops to talk to someone else, giving you the tiniest indication to say, ‘can’t help it.’  When he finally weaves his way toward you and possessively drapes an arm around your shoulder, you shrug it off and mumble under your breath, ‘You’re forty-five minutes late.  Where the hell were you?’  You’re boiling inside and know there’ll be a scene when the two of you get home...

Love possesses us and gives a sense of possession.  But possession isn’t control.  Possession isn’t having things your way, and it isn’t, as Eric Segal said in his 1970 novel, Love Story, never having to say you’re sorry—or never having to forgive.  We can interpret actions, facial expressions, tones of voice, and so on in many different ways but without language—to enquire, to explain, or just to state the facts—those interpretations are left wide open.

And that is the premise of my new book, Always on My Mind.  I hope you’ll read it.  It is currently in pre-order with a release date of Feb. 19^th.

1972 - Vietnam, the pill, upheaval, hippies.
Wyoming rancher Cooper Byrnes, deeply attached to the land and his way of life, surprises everyone when he falls for vagabond hippie Cassie Halliday. Fascinated and baffled, he cannot comprehend his attraction—or say the words she wants to hear.

Cassie finds Coop intriguingly different. As she keeps house for him and warms his bed at night, she admits to herself she loves him but she misinterprets Coop's inability to express his feelings.

Parted, each continues to think of the other, but how can either of them reach out to say, "You were 'always on my mind'?"

In pre-order at: 

   https://www.amazon.com/Always-My-Mind-Andrea-Downing-ebook/dp/B082S8TQD1/

AND
 https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/always-on-my-mind-andrea-downing/1135994904?ean=2940163058044 

Excerpt:

He was alien, an oddity. But then, that’s why she was traveling, to see the unusual, get outside of her own little world, meet people who had different ideas, broaden her mind and learn to think in a different way, see if people acted differently from those back in Boston. And then, there would be Haight-Ashbury and independence and a new life. The clothes he wore were like a costume, made him even more foreign—the hat, the snapper shirt with a string tie, the pressed jeans and boots. And then the short curly hair with sideburns. She liked his face, found him attractive—brown eyes like rich chocolate, the parenthesis around his mouth when he smiled. And the voice—a low tone, like a bass tuning up with a bit of gravel caught amongst the strings.

He didn’t offer to buy her a drink but maybe that wasn’t the done thing around here. He certainly knocked back his own, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood there eyeing her as if he were trying to decide what to do next. She felt like a slab of meat he was considering eating, uneasy in his gaze. She turned to watch the dancers, thought of getting away and finding her friends but going back to the situation with Dave seemed so much less appealing than staying with this Coop.

 Someone had cleared the mess, left the leg of a broken chair leaning against the bar like a policeman’s baton waiting to be used. The smoke from everyone’s cigarettes irritated her eyes and she wondered if her makeup had smudged as her eyes teared. The smell of spilt beer fought with the smoke as Elvis started singing ‘Always on My Mind’ from the jukebox.

Cooper tapped her elbow. “You dance?”

“Not like that.” She watched as couples circled about the floor in slow steps. “I could try I suppose.”

Cooper grimaced. “Come on then.” A note of reluctance colored his voice. “Let’s see what you can do.”

He took her hands, placing her left on his shoulder and resting his right on her back to guide her. She felt like a fool, there among the women who knew the steps, exactly how to dance, wearing their flared skirts and frilly tucked-in blouses. She stumbled, but when Coop caught her and tapped her along, she followed.

He was much older than she, and she felt slightly uncomfortable in his arms, a no-doubt experienced man. The thought of sleeping with him vaguely crossed her mind, but she wondered if older men had more expectations and she wouldn’t know what to do, or even want to do it.

“I like this song.” It was an offering, an ‘I’m not as different as you might think’ she was giving him.

“You like Elvis?”

“Yeah. I don’t know much about him, other than what I’ve seen on TV. But I like him. Though I like Dylan better, of course.”

Cooper snorted. “Of course. All that freedom stuff. You all back east are really big into freedom until you get called up to serve. Then you find a way out, grad school or what have you.”

Was that bitterness in his voice?

“I don’t see you serving your country.” She glared at him, then looked away.

Coop heaved out a breath. “They won’t take me. I got a II-C—agricultural deferment due to being the only man in my family working my ranch.”

“So you found a way out.”

“Against my will. I’ll bet you anything somewhere in your family is a brother or cousin or some such who got out because he didn’t want to fight and went off to some fancy school or whatever, happy as you please.”

She knew he was waiting for a response, baiting her. “I haven’t got a brother; I’m an only child. And anyway, we’re certainly not rich enough for some fancy grad school as you put it.” Something suddenly struck her and she glanced around. “Shit, where’d the others go?”

“What others? Your friends? Probably kicked out for fighting.”

She took her hands away, stood staring at him, her eyes stinging as tears began to blossom. “They get kicked out but your friend—Ty?—who threw the first punch is sitting there as if nothing had happened?”

“Absolutely. He’s a regular. Of course, they’re not going to throw him out. When will your friends come back here? Never, I’d guess. Ty comes every week. He wouldn’t have caused trouble if your pal Dave hadn’t started it.”

She scrambled in her jean pocket and pulled out a small plastic packet followed by a bill. “Shit,” she muttered.

“You always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“That word. I don’t often hear a woman say that, not leastways a nice one.”

She stuffed the five dollars and the stash back into her jeans. “You’ve got to be kidding. Are you living in some time warp here? Men are allowed to use some words women aren’t? You must be joking!” Panic started to rise within her, the thought of being left with this guy worrying.

Coop got hold of her arm and yanked her out of the way of the dancers. “Such a pretty little thing and such an ugly word coming out of that rose bud of a mouth.”

But all she could do was bite her lip to try to stop the tears. Where were her friends? She didn’t know where their van was parked or where she might spend the night.

“What’s the matter now? You trying to figure out how to smoke that crap you have there?”

“No, no, of course not. I just don’t know where the van is. We parked on some side street and strolled around the town a while before coming here.”

“What van?”

“The van we’re all living in.”

“Living in? All of you, together?”

“Four of us. What, you think we’re staying in some fancy hotel?”

Cooper ran his hand over his face, his eyes still on her. “Look, you can come home with me and—”

“Ha! You think I’m easy, that you can just take advantage because I’m from out of town.”

“Oh, for chrissake. I’m not going to take advantage of you. Don’t you fret. There’s a spare room where you can sleep for the night and in the morning I’ll have someone, if not myself, find your friends for you. Shouldn’t be too difficult. It’s a small town. Or would they leave without you?”

 “No, I don’t think they’ll do that.” She couldn’t read his thoughts, whether he was genuinely concerned for her or trying to get her into his bed. And she wasn’t sure about where her friends might be, but then that psychedelic painted VW bus shouldn’t be too hard to spot in daylight. And she didn’t fear him, thought he was probably a man of his word, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Well, what is it then? You wanna sleep on the street? It’s a warm May night, might only be a bit of frost later—”

“Yes, if you have a spare room.”

“Right. I’ll just have another beer before they shut down.”