Bittersweet (1)

He didn’t realize how long it had been since he last stepped foot in her apartment until he actually stepped foot in her apartment. He had never even allowed himself to believe he would even see her again. He had tried so hard to shut that possibility out of his mind that it was both comfortable and scary as he sat on her ouch. Every time he looked at her, her eyes held a twinkle a secret smile that said she had always know this day would arrive.

“My dreams have come true.” She said to him last night. Today she stood next to him as he sat, her hands on her hips her secret and self pleased smile on her face as she spoke. “Do you need the fan, should I put the fan on you?” He looked up at her his face held no emotion but his voice showed surprise.

“Ugh, no.” he shook his head. He had lied, in a matter of minutes he would start sweating and she knew it as she shook her head lightly and plugged in an electric fan and sat it next to him. It had surprised him that she had asked and he didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t asked or done that before. Even her father would offer the fan to him. As he sat there the cool air on his face it scared him that things could be so familiar and yet so different.

“Okay, do you want something to drink? We have juice.” She asked standing in front of him again. He shook his head. “Are you sure?” she almost begged.

“I’m okay.” He lied. He wasn’t sure why he was so reluctant to accept anything form her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her or trust her. No, in fact he loved her, but he was stuck between emotions. Just last night her voice made him shake with anger. He had never been so upset and venerable at the same time. He felt himself an excellent speaker and user of words but last night his whole body shook as he stuttered and stammered his voice barely above a whisper. He closed his eyes and sighed as he began to realize this woman was in him deeper than he himself knew.

“Okay.” She shrugged defeated. ‘Well I gotta start cooking.” She turned and walked away to the kitchen. His eyes never left her as he watched her walk into the kitchen. He gave a light chuckle and shook his head as his eyes fell on her butt. He had teased her earlier as they walked up the steps to her apartment.

“Ugh, and still no ass.” He laughed as he pinched her.

“Would you...” she said getting embarrassed. “And its gotten bigger.” She retorted

“Really? Cant tell.” He laughed as they stood by the door of her apartment.

“These jeans make my ass look small.” She said as she darted inside the apartment not giving him another chance to look. He smiled to himself as he walked in after her. But now she stood in the kitchen cooking as he watched feeling lonely. He wasn’t here now so he could watch her cook. He slipped his boots off and walked into the kitchen with just his socks. She immediately looked down at his feet as he stepped into the kitchen.

“I remembered.” He mumbled

“Thank-you.” She smiled approvingly. He looked around the kitchen and then immediately regretted it as his eyes caught the pictures of the ever present gazes of elephant and monkey faced shaped people that hung on the kitchen walls. The pictures always gave him a sick feeling deep in his stomach the same way metal rock music did. He forced the images from his mind as she wrapped his arms around her waist as she washed dishes. He was careful not to get too close to her neck which was sensitive to touch as he lined her cheek and shoulder with kisses, and watched her smile.

“I missed you.” He admitted.

“You already know I missed you, I told you all this last night. I already put everything out there.” He lightly breathed her in, he loved her smell, always the same. He didn’t know what it was but even when mixed with food or sweat she always smelled the same. It was indescribable to him but he always wanted her close to him. “Okay I gotta cook this rice.” He let go of her and watched her move about the kitchen. Something stirred in him as he looked over her. Her face looked comfortable and familiar to him, as if he could get used to it. It felt to him that this face would be the one that would be comfortable and familiar to him for the rest of his life. Or was that his imagination again? It was known for playing tricks on him. It must be. Didn’t people usually only feel like this after they have had sex with each other? So then why did he feel like this? He was getting scared again. She came and leaned next to him on the counter. “So did you write a book yet?” she teased leaning into him

“Something like that.” He said growing silent as she looked down at he ground. She laughed.

“Well, what have you written, tell me about it.”

“You know I cant talk to you about writing unless I’m holding you.” He said reaching for her hips and gently guiding her in front of him. She let herself be moved and he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder getting lost in her scent.