Take from me my will

“Lady, take from me my will, and make me an instrument of thine.”

It’s a refrain of mine. A prayer. A promise. A surrender. “Islam translates literally as “Surrender” I would be a Muslim. Not in their specifics, but in their devotion. I would put myself on the path. Put myself in the hands of my goddess, and trust her. For only then can I be worthy can I not?

I am dancing as I whisper. As so often happen dance brings big thoughts. I begin to think in dance, and it makes for better thoughts. Broader, sweeping notions. Emotions. Intuitive knowledge of what is to come.

Bad decisions too, I rarely second guess myself when dancing unless a woman is involved.

Tonight’s thoughts as I dance, are about moving on. This summer of healing is over. I find myself strong, as strong as I have ever been, and stronger. I can face an old flame without flinching. I can awake without heartbreak in the night. I am ready for whatever comes next.

“Lady - I thank you for the time given me to heal after what you did to me last time I surrendered. I take with me new strength, and greater learning, a larger vessel for you to ride. And I am well now. I am ready for the next lesson great teacher. Lady take from me my will

“- And make me an instrument of thine.”

---

I help take down dance, and walk to the bus stop. It’s been an odd day, a dozen almost dances but not quites. I sit pondering them. Wondering at my inability to dance straight out.

A frail old black man walks by, stopping at the edge of the bus stop.

“How’s - it - going?”

“Good”

It’s an instinctive encounter. Nothing to it. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. Old black men have always held a certain mystique for me. I come from a whitewashed little town in northern Washington. Old black men show up in stories. Jacktales. Ulysses. Homer Price.

Silence. Not the full silence of friends, but the empty silence of strangers at a bus stop. This city has taught me that silence. Old people where I come from talk to you and you smile respectfully. Here that silence is sacred, unless you’re Casey, or someone who instinctively breaks that wall.

All I need to to do is muster my courage. I know the words. How’s your day been? Small talk. I used to hate it. Now I love it. The connection is like a seed.

“How’s your day been?” I ask.

He breaks into a big beautiful smile. “It’s been good. Really good. This was my first night working.”

“Where are you working at?”

He points at the restaurant down the street. “Just got off.”

“You like it?”

“Yes - it’s gonna be just fine.”

A pause.

“How about you?”

“Pretty good myself. Just got done dancing. And a day with dancing is a good day.”

He smiles. “Dancing. - what do you do with your life besides dancing?”

“Not much right now in the summer, but I’m a student up at Evergreen.”

“What do you study?”

I laugh. “Good question. - it’s Evergreen, so a lot of things all muddled together - my passion is mythology. Right now I’m about to go study physics.”

“Physics. A lot you can do with that.”

I smile and nod.

A pause.

“You been in Olympia long?”

“No, just got here a couple months ago.”

“Where before that?”

“Prison. - I was in prison for 49 years. Just got out a few months ago.”

“Wow. Must feel good to be here.”

“You can’t even imagine.”

---

The bus comes. I get on first and swing into my normal seat near the stairs. He gets on more slowly. Looks at me wondering if our conversation is over. I pat the seat next to me. He smiles his big delighted smile and sits down next to me. I forget what we talked about on the bus.He asked where I was getting off and said he’d get off at my stop and walk with me.

We got off. My house isn’t that far from the stop, but he had me interested.

“What were you in for, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Long story.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll walk with you if you tell me that long story.”

He smiles. I feel a kinship between us. A warmth. Maybe a mentorship somewhere up the line.

“I have to tell you.” he turns towards me. “I’m bi, and you are very beautiful.”

“Why thank you.” I say. “I needed to feel beautiful tonight.”

“I mean it. You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met.” There’s intensity in his eyes. Intent.

“I’m flattered, and very straight . . . you were telling me your story.”

We walk through the residential Westside, first along the main street, then delving along the grid of houses. It's about ten at night, and people are still common, strolling the other way or moving between porches and cars. I make a quick assessment. I shouldn't follow an ex con into the dark alone, even a frail old one, but here seems safe. I'm not getting any threat from him.

According to him he was convicted at age 18 for physical assault and two murders. He says he was responsible for the assault, but the murders were just him in the wrong place at the wrong time. While in prison he got several two year college degrees, in law, and social studies. He says he fought them the whole time. Pleading innocent until he finally got out because they hadn’t kept the evidence, and by law they had to - since DNA evidence might have changed his conviction.

“I used my time in there well.” he told me “But it’s nothing like being out.”

“If there were one thing you learned from all that what would it be?”

He smiles. “To do what you want to. You never know when it will all get taken away.”

“Carpe Diem.”

“What?”

“It’s french. It means Seize the day.”

“Hmm - more than that. Days are too long. Seize the Moment. Like right now. I think you’re really beautiful, and I think if you came home with me I could give you a lot of pleasure.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Do you have a partner?”

“Well, no - but I’m straight. I just don’t swing that way.”

“I was straight for a long time, but then I tried it. Come on.”

“No.”

“Can I at least have a friendship hug?”

I’ve been craving touch. I like hugs. Why not.

“Sure.”

He hugs me tight. Immediately pressing his groin against mine, arms around me, he begins kissing my neck. I get my hand up and force his head up and away.

“Hey - that’s enough.”

We walk. It’s a longer walk than I was expecting. I try and get more details out of his story. He’s insistent.

“I won’t hurt you. You’re safe with me.” By my calculations he’s sixty seven.

“I’m not threatened.”

“You can trust me. I It’ll feel really good.” his voice is pleading.

“I’m sure it would, but I’m not interested.”

“You don’t know that until you’ve given it a try.”

“I do know that. Women are attractive to me, men, not so much. The allure is with something different. Penises - what’s the point. I have one.”

“Come with me and I’ll show you the point.”

I walked into that one. “No.”

“Can I at least have a phone number so I can get in touch with you?”

“I don’t have a phone. Do you have a facebook?”

“No - it’s all still very new to me.”

I laugh. “I imagine it is.”

“I promise I won’t hurt you. I would never do anything without your consent.”

“Not what I’m concerned about.”

“You are so beautiful. I could make you feel as beautiful as you are . . . “

I finally round on him. “I’ve said no several times now. why do you keep asking?”

“Because I believe behind that no lies a yes!”

We both laugh. A deep tension releasing laugh.

“You don’t know your bi until you’ve tried.”

“I have tried. It’s not for me.”

That finally seems to gets through.

“One last hug?”

“No neck kisses.”

“I promise.”

We hug again. a long hug. He murmurs. “This could last forever.”

I pull back putting him at arm’s length. “But it won’t.”

“But it won’t.” he repeats.

We part ways.

---

“You’ll never guess what just happened to me.” I tell my housemates when I get back. They can’t. I go into my room, the presence of a sixty seven year old kiss lingering on my neck.

I sit down. Very glad that I am the man that I am. That I’ve played woman enough to know that behind every no there’s not a yes just waiting to flower. Though this was the first time I’d danced that dance in person.

I think on all the other reasons I had to refuse. I don’t do one night stands, my heart can’t bear them. He was sixty bloody seven, and that age gap wouldn’t work. Not at all. I found him beautiful, but not erotic. No - there could never have been a yes. Not if I were a woman. Not if I were anything but myself.

Then I turn, eyes seeking the painting of the lady upon my wall.

“really?!” - Take from me my will, and make me an instrument of thine - “and you give me this?”

Somewhere very far away, the lady laughs and laughs and laughs.