”I am a lover without a lover. I am lovely and lonely and I belong deeply to myself.”- Warsan Shire
As I walked into the kitchen, I saw her filling the saucepan with tap water.
“She’ll be late. Shall I make you a cup of coffee?”
The answer was quick. She turned off the tap.
“I … Um … don’t want … You know, I wish to sleep for some more time. So, …”
I agreed and went to the living room. I heard the bed room door close behind me. I wasn’t watching the telly. I had no idea what was going on. I wanted to see her and talk to her. They would leave in three hours. I’ve been waiting for this for the past two years.
I got up and walked towards her room. The door was standing ajar. May be she doesn’t know my doors don’t lock well. I could hear sobs.
Like e a school girl, she lay curled up on the bed, hugging herself. She quickly sat up on seeing me. She had cried her eyes out.
“No. Please don’t say…”
There were mlre words. The sobs swallowed it. Like my younger one, she wiped her face on her sleeve, and inspected the tear stains on it.I smiled. She turned to look at me and sulked. I offered my cup of coffee. To my surprise she took it. She took a sip.
“This is Bru. Chicory. Not coffee.”
Good Lord. She’s back.
“You don’t know anything. You know nothing about me.” She continued.
I sat beside her. She looked into my eyes.
“You’re the thing I hate the most and love the most.” I wanted to tell her. I knew the adverse effect of kind words on her. So I didn’t.
I brushed my nose against her’s. She smiled and twisted my shirt’s button. I wished to smother her with kisses. Her pendant moved rhythmically to her heartbeat. Would she mind? Does she want to too?
I pressed my lips on her’s. She pushed herself towards me. I held her hands. I loved her more then. The woman doesn’t even know how to kiss. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. What’s her hurry? Why couldn’t she relax at anything?
The clock chimed. Two more hours. I held her closer. She ran her fingers on mine.
“I want this moment to last forever.”
I kissed her nose. “Is that practical?”
“My God! Stop being practical.” She pinched me with her half-chewed nails and stood up.
“Don’t go.” I drew her towards me and she sat on my lap. She kissed my forehead. Then my eyes. She started to well up.
“No. I won’t cry now. I’m tired. You know, physically. Don’t come to the airport, okay. We’ll take a cab.”
We kissed some more. We wronged and it felt right.