Fiction: New chapters

As I get past airport security and look around for a place to eat something, I feel a pair of eyes boring into my head. I turn to see him staring at me like he’s seen a ghost in the darkness. I freeze for a minute, and then gather my wits about me.

I nod an acknowledgement, smile and walk on in my pursuit of food. On the outside I appear calm and composed but who knows of the storms that brew within? It’s been three years since we spoke. Three years since I broke down and cried like a child at the unexpected end of this relationship. And then I gathered myself, rose from my ashes like the proverbial Phoenix and swore I’d never let a man hurt me again.

Yet, those storms seem to have merely taken a sabbatical, only to return with unexpected force in this characterless airport lounge. I swear at myself for being so vulnerable to him even after all these years.

I find a chair and sink into it, no longer even wanting any food or drink. All I want is to disappear from this place and never have to see him again. But I know that won’t happen.

Almost as if on cue, he finds me and approaches. He sits down next to me and calls out my name. I look up, expressionless, deadpan. He starts apologising. I hold a hand up asking him to stop. He pauses and then asks, “How are you?”

The rage bubbles. How dare he? How dare he ask me this after leaving me to pick up my pieces? I steel myself to face him. With the same deadpan expression, I nod and say, “Very well. Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to finish.”

He looks taken aback but I’m sure I don’t want to engage in further conversation. I’m done. That chapter is over. And it will remain but a chapter in the book of my life.

I hear the boarding call and pick up my bag to take that flight I’d missed all those years ago. And a new chapter begins.

Fiction: A long-lost love

You step forward and turn me around in your arms. You look into my eyes and gently lean forward for a kiss. I melt. Into your arms. I return your kiss, gentle at first, more passionate and insistent later. My toes curl in anticipation of what pleasures you’ll give. A soft sigh escapes me, as I wish this moment would never end.

Finally, you break the kiss, look into my eyes and say, “I love you di!” I can hardly breathe. Wasn’t this what I’ve waited for all these years?

You lean back in for another kiss and this time, it’s more demanding, more insistent. I return your kisses with a passion I did not know I was capable of. I acknowledge, after years, the depth my own desire for you.

You push me against the wall and gently caress my hips. I offer myself up to you almost instinctively, like I know how my body fits into yours. You take me in your arms and ask, “Can we go to the bed please?” Before I can respond, you’ve swept me away to the bed we shared so many years ago. The bed I could never bring myself to share with anyone else in the years you were away

You reclaim what’s rightfully yours. The bed. My body. Every inch of my skin that yearns for your touch. And how? With an aggression I haven’t felt in all those years we were together.

You make love to me like it’s the last time you’ll ever touch me, like the proverbial drowning man clutching at straws. Your fingers, oh those beautiful fingers…trace the curves of my hips that you so love.

After all these years, I feel alive again. I feel beautiful again. You hold my hips and bring me close, pause a second, as if to give me a final chance to say no, and then take me. Now, I feel whole again. After all these years.

Fiction: A lovely summer day…

It's a lovely summer day, and here we are, cooped up in a damned meeting room. This is going nowhere. The conversations are frustrating as ever. I glare at you and you look away in embarrassment. You realise that asking me to join this meeting was a mistake. They have no idea what they want and we can't help them. You know I didn't want this client. You insisted.

Two hours later, we walk out in frustration at our time wasted and with no conclusion in sight. You turn around, asking if I want to grab a drink. It's 8 PM after all. And it's still bright, the European summer being at its sunny best. I nod, still unwilling to forgive you for the waste of my time.

You get me a drink, order some food and reach out to touch my fingers. I'm surprised, and quite confused at this sudden change in behaviour. I look up, only to see your eyes boring into mine. I raise my eyebrows slightly in silent enquiry. You smile. And something flips in me.

What is it that makes my heart flutter when you flash that gorgeous smile? And why suddenly? We've known each other for years, decades even. Why did I never notice?

Your breath on my neck interrupts my reverie as you whisper, "You were right. I'm sorry about today."

I turn to see you closer than you've ever been. You slightly lift my chin and kiss me. Now I know. It only takes a minute for one of the worst days of my life to become one of the best.

Mini fiction: The ephemeral and the ethereal

You hug me from behind, look into my eyes in the mirror and whisper, “You’re gorgeous”. Seconds later, I surrender to your will with love. I offer myself up to you, allowing you to explore at will, relinquishing control over myself. Never have I felt so loved, so desired.

You gently caress the flesh, willing it to respond. You gather me into your arms, bringing the sheets around us. I wish time would freeze.

Hours later, as we lay in each other’s arms, energies spent, you gently kiss my forehead and say, “how I wish this could last a lifetime.”

But my darling, the terrible and the most awful truth is that some things aren’t meant to last. Maybe that’s why they’re so beautiful. Because they’re ethereal and ephemeral.

Fiction: New beginnings…

There comes a time in everyone’s life, when they can’t have what their heart truly desires. At such a time, any sane individual would walk away and give up. I did that too. All those years ago, when I realised that Adam would never truly be mine, I decided to walk away and give myself a chance to live my life without him. He didn’t want me to leave, but what could I do? Between my expectations and his commitments, our love quietly slipped out, unnoticed and without protest. If anyone had asked me then, I would have promised them, and myself in the process, that I was sure of what I was doing. I’d have convinced then, without really convincing myself that going away from him was the best thing to do in the circumstances.

That was 8 years ago. In these years, we’d both drifted apart, focused on career, become successful, made money. I had followed his career and his life closely, to the point of obsessively stalking his Facebook profile, refusing to accept suggestions from well-meaning friends that I should perhaps try to talk to him again. I couldn’t possibly do that. I couldn’t possibly reach out to him again. The fear of rejection was too strong. No. Scratch that. Rejection, I could take. What if he ignored me? That is something I couldn’t take. I knew from my passive stalking that he occasionally dated. I also knew he wasn’t married yet. Yet, something stopped me from reaching out.

And then, out of nowhere, I ran into him at the local supermarket yesterday. Pushing the cart along for my monthly groceries, I was busy trying to find my favourite brand of pasta when I literally ran the cart into him. Looking up to apologise, I froze. I couldn’t move. Or speak. The emotions of the past 8 years came rushing back, filling my eyes. Here was the man I’d have given anything for. Here he was in person, in front of me, his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

All I remember of the next 30 mins was billing my purchases and getting to my car, still sane enough to drive. As I got home, the realisation hit me. I had walked away, for the second time, from the man I loved most in life. I had walked away with no words to say, with no explanations. Not even basic pleasantries exchanged. As I dumped the shopping bags and turned to shut the door, I saw him again. At my doorstep. With an unspoken invitation to step into his arms and his life once again. Perhaps, this was how it was meant to be. Perhaps this second lifetime would finally last.