Romans & histoires Tell Me What You Want

“Because I don’t know what I want. I want you to ask me what I want, and I want to tell you what I want, but I DONT KNOW WHAT I want.” “With what?” “Everything! I don’t know what I want to wear tomorrow, I don’t know where I want to sleep, or where I want YOU to sleep, I don’t know if I want to go talk to Fin again to try and get more information, I don’t know if I want different furniture in here...” Whoa! Okay, well, that’s a lot to take in, but I have to stop her and get her to focus a little. “Al, sweetheart, look at me”

“What do you want, James?” “You of all people know what I want but will you give me.” “Never!”

“Where your heart desires.” “What?”

“What do you want?” He leans back slightly, a contemplative look crossing his face. “I want a life with you. Whatever that looks like. If it means kids, then I’m all in. If it means no marriage, that’s fine too. I just… I want to build something real with you. Something that lasts.”

After a long moment, I said, "What do you want me to do? Sit around and stare at walls?" "No." His voice was gentle. "I want you to figure out what you actually want. Not what needs doing. Not what's expected. What you want. For yourself. For your life. For—" He gestured vaguely. "Whatever comes next." I stared at him. No one had ever asked me that. Not really. My father asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, but that was different—that was about achievement, ambition, legacy. Scott asked what I wanted for dinner, for vacations, for our anniversary. But what I actually wanted, deep down, for myself?

“What?” “I want what’s mine.”

“Tell me what you want. Tell me how you want it.” “I want you to—” I couldn't finish the sentence. “Say it.” His hand stroked me, slow and deliberate. “Say what you want me to do.”

Here with Vincent and my children. I have finally gotten What I Want! ‐-----------