The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

by Mariana Zapata

“I don’t want someone new. I want you.”

I mean, I knew Aiden was attractive, obviously, but when he smiled, there was nothing to prepare you for that weapon of mass destruction.

“You’ve been with me for two years, but I figure I’m barely beginning to understand,” the big guy claimed, his expression solemn. “Understand what?” “I should probably be scared of you.”

“I’m taking your love of MILF porn to the grave with me, don’t worry.”

“Touch my wife again, and I’ll break every bone in your goddamn body.”

“I know you think I wouldn’t care,” he said in that whisper voice that bled solemnness, “but I would. I do. We’re in this together.” My mouth suddenly dry, I nodded. “Yes.” “Trust me, Van. Tell me. I won’t let you down.”

“Don’t ask me stupid questions, Vanessa.” “Well. I don’t want to just assume, thank you.” He huffed and said over his shoulder, “You know I would tell you if I didn’t want you there.” “I figure, but you never know.” Aiden’s attention was forward when he replied with something that had me wondering if he was dying. Or delusional. Or maybe this entire moment was just a dream. “You don’t ever have to worry about me not wanting you somewhere. Got it?”

“Yeah. Of course. We’re Team Graves.”

“You haven’t left me when I needed you. Why wouldn’t I do the same for you?”

“Home is where you are. I would go anywhere for you if you wanted me to be there.”

Maybe that was the thing about love I never understood before Aiden. Like football and art, like anything that anyone in the world has ever wanted, love was a dream. And just like a dream, there were no assurances behind it. It didn’t grow on its own. It didn’t blossom without food to feed it. It was the greatest in its subtleties. It was the strongest in its selflessness. And it could be forever with someone who wasn’t afraid to never give up on the possibilities it presents.