In my head, I knew what am doing was wrong. As I lay in bed, open-eyed in the dawn, feeling the length of his naked body next to me, it was warm despite the chill of the room. I enjoyed slept naked next to him, and now wondered how there was any other way.
Of course, I needed another body beside me; a body like his, hard with physical exercise, taut and lean, not an ounce of flab on him, and fiercely strong.
Yet he was so gentle with me. His hands with the tender pianist’s fingers had drawn whorls on my smooth dark skin the night before, his eyes shining in the soft light of the dim bulb.
With his hands on my skin, my body becomes like nothing I’d ever known before; a treasured thing made for being wrapped up with his and adored.
“You’re so beautiful. I wish this moment could go on forever.” He’d said in the low voice I loved. There wasn’t anything about him I didn’t love, really.
He was perfect.
And not me.
Our time was stolen: a few hours here and there, holding hands under the table at dinner, clinging together in the vast of my bed like shipwreck survivors on a raft. For those hours, he was mine, but I was only borrowing him.
The awfulness of separation rose up again inside me. It was a physical ache in the pit of my stomach.
He’ll wake soon. He’ll be gone by ten to catch his flight.
If I had been the one who had to leave the room first, I knew I simply couldn’t have done it. But he would. Duty drove him.
It was dark in the room and only the gleam of the alarm clock hands showed that it was morning. I nudged my way out of the bed and opened a silver of heavy curtain to let some grey dawn light in. It was raining outside; the sort of sleety cold rain that sank cruelly into the bones.
There were early morning noises coming from the street below. Door banging, horns sounding, traffic rambling. Ordinary life going on all around us, like worker ants slaving away in the colony, nobody aware of anybody else’s life. Nobody aware of mine.
He moved in the bed and I buried back into it, desperate to glean the last precious hour of our time together. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend it was night again and we still had some time.
But he was waking up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, rubbing his hands over his jaw with its darkening stubble.
Soon, he’s leaving.
I was crying when he moved hand against mine, his body heavy and warm.
“Don’t be sad.” He said, lowering his head and kissing the saltiness of my ears.
“I am not.” I said, crying more, “I mean, I don’t mean to. I‘ll miss you, I can’t bear it.”
“You have to, we both have to.”
I’d never known that love could be so joyous and so agonizing at the same time. Every caress took us closer to his leaving. Each time he touched me, I couldn’t block out the thought: Is this the last time he’ll ever do that? Will I ever see him again?
I could barely stop the tears. But I did, because I had to.
In the end, I lay silently in the bed watching him get ready. Just before he left, he sat beside me, pulled me close and kissed me as if I was oxygen he was breathing in.
My hands clung to his, one curved tightly around his neck, the other cradling his skull. We kissed with our eyes closed so we’ll never forget.
“I have to go. I love you.”
I couldn’t speak in case I cried again.
“Goodbye.”
Of course, I needed another body beside me; a body like his, hard with physical exercise, taut and lean, not an ounce of flab on him, and fiercely strong.
Yet he was so gentle with me. His hands with the tender pianist’s fingers had drawn whorls on my smooth dark skin the night before, his eyes shining in the soft light of the dim bulb.
With his hands on my skin, my body becomes like nothing I’d ever known before; a treasured thing made for being wrapped up with his and adored.
“You’re so beautiful. I wish this moment could go on forever.” He’d said in the low voice I loved. There wasn’t anything about him I didn’t love, really.
He was perfect.
And not me.
Our time was stolen: a few hours here and there, holding hands under the table at dinner, clinging together in the vast of my bed like shipwreck survivors on a raft. For those hours, he was mine, but I was only borrowing him.
The awfulness of separation rose up again inside me. It was a physical ache in the pit of my stomach.
He’ll wake soon. He’ll be gone by ten to catch his flight.
If I had been the one who had to leave the room first, I knew I simply couldn’t have done it. But he would. Duty drove him.
It was dark in the room and only the gleam of the alarm clock hands showed that it was morning. I nudged my way out of the bed and opened a silver of heavy curtain to let some grey dawn light in. It was raining outside; the sort of sleety cold rain that sank cruelly into the bones.
There were early morning noises coming from the street below. Door banging, horns sounding, traffic rambling. Ordinary life going on all around us, like worker ants slaving away in the colony, nobody aware of anybody else’s life. Nobody aware of mine.
He moved in the bed and I buried back into it, desperate to glean the last precious hour of our time together. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend it was night again and we still had some time.
But he was waking up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, rubbing his hands over his jaw with its darkening stubble.
Soon, he’s leaving.
I was crying when he moved hand against mine, his body heavy and warm.
“Don’t be sad.” He said, lowering his head and kissing the saltiness of my ears.
“I am not.” I said, crying more, “I mean, I don’t mean to. I‘ll miss you, I can’t bear it.”
“You have to, we both have to.”
I’d never known that love could be so joyous and so agonizing at the same time. Every caress took us closer to his leaving. Each time he touched me, I couldn’t block out the thought: Is this the last time he’ll ever do that? Will I ever see him again?
I could barely stop the tears. But I did, because I had to.
In the end, I lay silently in the bed watching him get ready. Just before he left, he sat beside me, pulled me close and kissed me as if I was oxygen he was breathing in.
My hands clung to his, one curved tightly around his neck, the other cradling his skull. We kissed with our eyes closed so we’ll never forget.
“I have to go. I love you.”
I couldn’t speak in case I cried again.
“Goodbye.”
He didn’t look back.
As I lay back in bed, the bed still warm with the imprint of his body, and wondered if I would ever see him again.
Till then, it gave me the tears everytimes I saw him leave the room, my room.....
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