Anger, immediate. I'd like to have a little talk with her, explain in quick low seething breaths why she is not allowed to stand that close to him. Anger,
unjustifiable, mean. It's not her fault, she is only responding. His actions are what's driving me nuts across a room, silently,
pretending to talk to other people but really keeping a constant beam of crazy nervous
radar trained on the both of them, in the kitchen, laughing. I can hear her laughter from here. His is quieter, like he's laughing about something he will not tell me later.
Maybe he doesn't see the way his eyes are when he is with her, his hands, his legs. They all angle toward her, his posture mirrors and encompasses hers. It was only a conversation, he will say in the car on the way home from the party. You were there the whole time. It wasn't like we were sneaking off to talk to each other. I wasn't flirting with her / just talking / I wasn't / no reason to worry.
Unjustifiable, I know he's right, all his words. He can be right, I'll grant that, but he doesn't understand.
We've talked about little things. He helps me watch strangers. I know he understands subtlety. I wish he understood that it is the tiny things that get to me, his eyeflicker, eyecrinkle, tiny smiles she does not notice but I do. It is the tiny things that are eating the lining of my stomach, destroying the fabric of every logic circuit in my brain.