The Light of Day by Kristen Kehoe

walk up behind her and grab her and show her everything I want, I shove my hands in the pockets of my sweats and lean back against the door to enjoy the rest of the show from a safe distance.  Yogi is sitting on the desk chair, and he slits his eyes at me as if he knows what I’m thinking.  In the month that we’ve lived here, he’s taken to Blue and become her shadow when she’s home, following her from room to room, curling up in the corner and watching her while she cooks, cleans, peruses the Internet.  As if he senses my jealousy at the fact that he can be close to her and I can’t, he’s always staring me down, and if a cat could talk shit, I know just which words would be coming out of his mouth as he eyes me from his seat right now.
                  I glare right back at him and finish the show, admiring each new pose and the fluidity with which Blue goes through them.  Our relationship has been a little rocky in its beginning.  Rather than feeling closer now that we live together, since that first night it feels as though Blue’s put a wall up between us, one that she stays safely behind.  She’s polite, friendly even, but never forthcoming and playful, never spicy and confrontational like she was when we first met and she told me in no uncertain terms to back the hell off.
                  It’s been four weeks since I got here, and other than polite conversation, she’s hidden behind her imaginary wall, finding things that keep us at a safe distance, finding solace in her room or the excuse of a busy work schedule to keep her busy.  I’ve let her breathe because I realized that first day that she needed to be the one to make the next move or this relationship — at least the one I want — is doomed.
                  She hasn’t made a move, and as I watch her roll up and out of her last pose, I wonder if I’ve just fucked myself into wanting her even more while she’s still maintaining what she considers a safe distance.  Knowing I’m close to begging, hating myself for it even though I know I can’t stop it, I clear my throat and wait for her eyes to meet mine.
                  She doesn’t flinch or jump, which makes me almost positive that she knew I was here while she finished.  I don’t know whether it’s good or bad that she didn’t acknowledge me.
                  Trying for light even though my whole body is tense with this need for something, whatever it is, I smile.  “I like your workout routine, Blue.  And your pants.  Have I mentioned before how much I like your pants?”
                  Her smile is slow, but it comes eventually and some of the heaviness inside of me eases.
                  “You know, I think you have,” she says and reaches over to lower the volume on the speaker, so the music falls to a low pulse.  There’s a ray of sunshine pushing through the rain, illuminating the small spot where Yogi sits and, looking at it, I can’t help but think that’s how Blue is for me. She’s my port, my piece of sunshine when all I want to do is wallow in the darkness and sink.
                  Knowing I might not be good for her doesn’t change my need for her, which probably makes me a bastard, but there it is.
                  “Rough day?” she asks and I meet her eyes.  She’s standing with her mat rolled up in her arms staring at me.  The light’s still pouring in behind her, and I wonder if she knows what I was thinking, or how badly I needed her to ask.
                  “It wasn’t great.”
                  Her hesitation is minimal, just enough that I can tell she’s not one hundred percent sure of her moves.  I wait, and eventually she makes her decision and takes a small step forward.  “Want to tell me about it?”
                  My shoulders unwind instantly, and a large breath exhales from me.