Just One Night

And the kiss feels like something completely new. But it also feels like something deeply known.

You win some, you lose some. And sometimes you win and lose at the same time. Life's a bloody cockup.

That they will find each other during the play, once more, in the words of Shakespeare.

Allyson meanwhile is remembering. Why this person? All the things she has told herself, or other people have told her - infatuation or Paris or good acting or lust - no longer hold water, because she remembers so viscerally and feels it anew. It's not any of that. It's not even him. Or all him. It's her. The way she can be with him.

Except Allyson doesn't know about Saba (yet) or about kishkes (officially speaking, though she knows what they are and how to listen to them and she will never ever stop doing this). And she doesn't have the words to tell Willem what she needs to tell him. So she doesn't use words. She licks her thumb and rubs it against he wrist. Stained. Willem grabs her wrist, rubs his own thumb against it. Does the same to his own wrist, just to make it clear. Stained.

Sickness leading to healing. The truth and its opposite again

When Allyson smiles, Willem is reminded of a sunrise. A bit of light, then more of it, then a burst of brightness. A sunrise is something you can see all the time and still marvel at. Maybe that is why her smile feels so familiar. He has seen many sunrises

It was so new that day: the liberation of being honest, of being brave, maybe a little stupid.

The truth and its opposite are flip sides of the same coin

But today it feels as though home has come to him.

Saying goodbye is less fraught this time. They have done it now once, like normal people: leave, come back. It builds confidence.

There is so much to say. It is like shoving all the sand of the world into an hourglass. Or trying to get it out.

Are you famous in India?" Allyson asks. "I am Brad Pitt in India" Willem says.

It isn't a first kiss. It isn't even their first kiss. But it feels like one. Not because it is fumbling or awkward. Not because she doesn't know where to put her hand, or he doesn't know where to put his nose. None of those. They slot together like puzzle pieces. As Allyson and Willem kiss for the first time in a year, both are thinking the same thing: This feels new. Though perhaps thinking is not the right term, because with a kiss like this, thinking goes out the window and something more instinctual takes over: inner voices, gut instincts. 'Knowing it in your kishkes' is how Willem's saba would've described it. In his kishkes, Willem is marveling at how Allyson found him, as Yael found Bram. He doesn't know how it happened, only that it did happen and that it means something.

(The sight of her bare feet. What this is doing to Willem’s blood pressure. She might as well have taken off all her clothes.)

Willem has just glanced at the birthmark on Allyson's wrist, giving him an urgent desire to taste it again. Between her feet and her wrist, he is having a hard time getting out the door.

Backstage, Willem is thinking about accidents again. And things that seemingly don't make sense, except they do. Like right out there in the fifth row. All of them, together. That makes sense.

This isn’t about her. It was catalyzed by her, and she’s woven up in it, but this is ultimately about him and his life and what he needs to do to make himself whole. He’s stopped drifting, he’s stopped being tossed around by the wind.

Allyson sees Willem's face, his panic, and she knows he is misreading her. But she is helpless to explain right now. Words have left her. She is emotion only.

A veces se gana, otras se pierde. Y a veces se gana y pierde al mismo tiempo. La vida es un jodido desastre