The Longest Month
February 10, 2008 § 8 Comments
It is February in Montreal, which means that the city is cold, dark, and sheathed in a treacherous amalgam of freshly fallen snow and sheer black ice. Because of it, I am finding it increasingly difficult to think of compelling reasons to leave my apartment, which is a pleasantly warm if somewhat dry cocoon of seasonal denial. Beyond its walls, it might as well be the end of the world, except with take-out.
It is this frigid clime that S. will soon visit, blissfully unaware that heat death awaits. Our reunion was originally slated for spring, which in Montreal sometimes arrives well into the month of May; instead, desire supplanted whatever reason we may once have possessed and we agreed that he should come in the barren dead of winter. We are, plainly, fools.
As it happens, I’ve been grappling with how to write about S., who is aware of this blog and not quite comfortable with his emerging role as an “anonymous love object.” As I’ve done once or twice before, I suggested that I could refrain from writing about him all, an offer he has until now generously declined. Thus, I will try to feel out the contours of a new character within limits I am not yet sure I can see, but which I want nevertheless to respect.
In the meantime, I am secretly afraid that he will touch down at Trudeau, and, upon encountering the bone-chilling winds gusting across the tarmac, decide to fly instantly back to New York. I mean, honestly, wouldn’t you?