I’m glad my husband’s BMW6series has darkened windows in the back. I take a deep breath, ring the doorbell, hurry to the backseat and gaze at your front door. Finally it opens. You take two steps look around and shrug. I can’t breathe. I see how resilient you walk, your youthful appearance and the intensity in your eyes. My face starts glowing and I feel shivers covering my body and wavelets running through my abdomen. My sensual pearl tingles. Involuntarily, I tilt my pelvis and spread my knees, but as soon as I realize it my body cramps. Softly I whisper “Never … sometime will never be”. Tears run down my heated face. You spot the Christmas present hanging from your doorknob, look around again and tear away the paper. When you open my wedding-ring box and take out the ‘mood-ring’ it is grey. You fall apart, aging 20 years in one second. You too can’t hold back your tears. Less than ten feet apart we mourn in solitude of what never has been.
Actually I didn’t want to join the reunion of the Seaside High school. I had nothing in common with those people I didn’t speak to or saw in the past 25 years. Besides, I had loads of work to do as solicitor. Two inheritance cases, a nasty divorce and a complex property transfer. Not to mention my voluntary work for the Presbyterian community at the immigrants care. However, my assistant called off the divorce-meeting, so I had a couple of hours to spare. Sighing I checked my make-up and drove to the diner. Everybody was already there, talking about the old days and boasting how well they did.
A soft touch, your hand on my shoulder.
“Eve, would you care to dance with me?”
“Rudolf? What are you doing here? Surely you didn’t attend the ‘Seesight’?
“As a matter of fact I did, I had classes in the old building while you…”
Unbelievable, you looked the same! More masculine, intense, but as youthful and sparkling as 25 years ago. The love of my youth, my ballroom dancing partner. I blushed spontaneously. So often I abused the electric toothbrush with you in mind! You asked what I wanted to drink and in a few moments we leaned on a table and talked about our work (you are a music director), our marriage (both in a rippling wedlock), well, just about everything. I felt the warmth of your presence, your attention invading my body. Delightful.
And then you said: ”To be honest Eve, the reason why I came was my silent wish to see you. As a boy I was too shy to tell, but, I was deeply in love with you. To dance a rumba with you was the highlight of the week, Rudolf-fine”.
I could hardly swallow and looked down. I whispered: “Rudolf-fine … I also was deeply in love with you.” I looked up, right into your eyes. I was lost, the earth dropped beneath my feet, everything twirled around me. You picked me up and carried me to a bench outside.
Gently you laid me down and held out a glass of water, letting me drink sip by sip. I was the shy, seventeen year old girl again and so in love.
“How are you feeling?”
“Well, fine, I just didn’t have lunch, too busy.”
“Please, take good care of yourself,” you said smiling.
“Let’s have lunch together next Friday, I’ll pick you up at your office say, 1 P.M.?”
“No, maybe, well, yes,” I mumbled.
You bent over me and we kissed, our lips barely touched but I was nothing but lips, my lips on yours.
“I’m sorry, I’ll have to go, there’s an orchestra waiting for me.”
You walked away, almost danced, made one-and-a–half turn, rushed back, put something in my hand and closed my fingers around it.
“A little something for you, it was gathering dust in my cupboard for the last twenty-five years or so,” and you danced away…
In my hand a mood-ring decorated with dolphins. Slowly it turned green.
The next week I was out of sorts. I was cooking and the food burned. Stupid mistakes at the office (I’m glad my assistant is very capable) and my husband wondered where I was with my head. On and on I lingered at the image of your resilient pace, your exciting body and your piercing eyes.
The Philippinian woman I spoke with to improve her English instantly knew:
“You love, I see It.”
”You are in love, I can see,” I repeated automatic.
“Not me, you!” she laughed.
I kept your ring on a chain under my clothes. Pink when I was desperate, yellow when I was restless, green of love when I dwelled in the past and purple of passion when I thought of next Friday.
One o’clock I stepped out my office into a cold drizzle. You swiftly walked around your car and opened the door. Barely I managed not to faint again. “Good afternoon my lady!” I sat down as elegantly as possible. You started the car and caressed my neck, cuddled my curls at the back of my head, pulled my face towards yours and kissed me.
My knees weakened purple passion came over me. It rolled from my toes to my head and nestled in my pelvis. I opened my lips…
We didn’t have lunch. We took a trip down memory lane, drove along the familiar spots of our youth. The old high school, our parental homes, the ballroom-dancehall and finally to the place of our lonesome adolescent consolation, the natural bench-like rocks at the coast where we, not knowing of each other, stared out over the restless sea. We walked hand in hand. It was December the 20th, cold and wet but still, leaning backwards on the bench, I opened my coat and unbuttoned my blouse. As you kissed me, your hands slipped under my bra and you carefully cupped my breasts, swiftly more eager. Your exploring tongue cherished my nipples; teased them with your teeth. My lust turned deep-purple. Your hands slipped under my blouse; dwelled over my naked skin. You kneaded my waist, my buttocks, my belly. Each squeeze sparkled over my skin, through my throbbing pearl into my burning cunt where electricity accumulated. You forced your leg between mine, the touch of your thigh against my high-tension cavern unleashed a vast bolt of lightning which struck deep in me and made me come… and again. I couldn’t stop shaking.
In a hoarse voice you said: “Let’s go to my place.”
I nodded speechless and within ten minutes we sat on your bed. Lovingly you started to undress me but I couldn’t let you, we are both married.
I snatched my clothes and fled down the stairs. Wavering, I walked home, the cold wind howled through my open coat, through my body. At home I crawled in bed, whimpering. For five days I stayed there, exhausted.
This morning I finally got up, wrapped your ring in Christmas paper and drove to your house.
You turn around and slowly stumble inside.
The rearview mirror shows my face with carefully applied make-up, run-down mascara and behind my eyes the white frozen desert within.