The Kiss

The Kiss

If I open that door, he will be standing on the other side.

Shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Wearing a remorseful look. The smile that I had come to know and love will be nowhere in sight. He will still stand tall, bewitchingly handsome. His hair will have been left to grow out – changes I see. His beard will be grown too.

He will say hi. Hi, in a way that will make me want to wrap my arms around him. A sad hi, a drawled out hi. A lazy hi. A desperate hi, an emotional hi.

My hi will be barely audible. He will ask how I have been since, you know… I will answer that I have been okay. We will keep standing at the doorway for a few seconds. I will still not be sure which me to unleash; the rude me, the kind me, the stern me, or the mellow me. I think about it – the mellow me would be an absolute no-no.

He will ask if he can come in for a few minutes. I will settle on cordial me. I will open the door wider, step aside to allow him to walk into my house, and I will close the door behind me.

I will point to the living room, offer him a seat. He will predictably opt to sit on the couch that had become his favorite. Clearly, it still will be. I will want to maintain some distance between us, so I will sit on the couch in the farthest corner of the room.

“Your hair looks lovely”

“Please…” I will roll my eyes thinking ‘Of course my hair looks lovely’

He will thank me for finally giving him a chance to see me – I had ignored his phone calls and text messages for a while.

I will ask him why he is here. “Cut to the chase”, I’ll say. Stern and cordial me working hand in hand here.

“I just felt like I needed to see you. To talk things over”

“What is there to talk about?”

“I’m sorry.” These words will pour out of him like the contents of a shaken champagne bottle whose cork has been popped.

And it will all come back to me. The pain that had degenerated to a bearably mild throb in the past couple of weeks, will hit me now with sharp stabs just like it did the first time I found out about her.

He will notice my discomfort, see my determination not to go down memory lane. He will go there anyway, explaining how big a mistake he made. How stupid he was – “a big fool” he’ll call himself (can’t argue with that). He will balance tears in his eyes. Look away. Speak to the wall.

“I cannot live without you. I cannot tell you that she’s out of my life because she was never in it. It was a one-night drunken thing that I cannot even name because it meant nothing.”

I will be too busy in a winning fight against tears to say anything.

He will stand up, cross the room and sit next to me on this treacherous couch that had promised elusivity. He will take both my hands in his. “Please forgive me”, he will say, “find it in your kind heart to forgive me, baby.”

“If forgiveness is what you want”, I’ll say, “then I forgive you.” But we cannot get back together – stern and cordial me will inform him. He will remind me how good we were together. How he looks forward to having a family with me, growing old with me. How eager he is to start working on our future by getting that business we talked about so many times, off the ground. He will tell me how he cannot get into this business with anyone else because it will not feel right – I was the one who pushed him to entrepreneurship. “This is our thing. We are meant to do this together. Side by side, just like we’d planned.”

He has not been sleeping much lately, he’ll say. He has been thinking about us a lot. Not been eating much either. He will lift up his shirt, show me his abs (Nigga please!) “See how much weight I have lost, baby?”

He will call me by my middle name. This will remind me of how he said it while making love to me. My mind will go to the gutter and he will escort it there by caressing the back of my hand.

“I don’t know.” Stern and cordial me will recede to the back seat. Mellow me’s head will peep through the door, not sure whether it’s safe to come out or not.

He will make himself comfortable beside me. Facing me. Touching my face. His fingertip will rest on my lower lip. Desire will fill his eyes. “Please baby” …and mellow will stride into the room.

He will touch my lips with his own. He will breathe mint into my mouth. Mint and warmth. His cologne will fill my senses. My head will feel light so I’ll close my eyes. Our lips will keep touching as he plays with my hands. I will look up into his face, he will look down at mine, run his hand through my hair, run his tongue over my lips, grunt “Please forgive me – I need you.” Then he will wait.

I’ll listen to my pounding heart and my woozy head. He’ll inhale me, giving me goosebumps. His lips will tease mine again. Nudging my mouth open.

I won’t know when it happens. Maybe it will be at the moment my lungs demand more air to furnish a heart that will be beating at a thousand beats per second. Maybe it will happen when my mouth will demand more saliva to moisten my lips. Maybe when his hands touch my elbows, my upper arm. When they move up to my neck to hold both sides of my face. Maybe it will happen when his hands start to feel like fire on my skin. Maybe when he’ll look at my soul, making it difficult for me to look away. Or maybe when I’ll finally realize that my eyes are moist.

All I know is that I will push back into his lips and he will receive me. I’ll inch even closer. Arch my head backwards. My lips will part and so will his. My mouth will fill up with saliva as his lips grind against mine. His tongue will find mine and caress it. In and out, touch and taste, suck and release. I will hold his head hostage by putting my hand to his nape, willing him not to stop. Not to leave. Not to mess this up. I will want more.

And I will forget about Kristy.

Am I ready to forget about Kristy?


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