Posted by: shelliejelly | May 16, 2008

Getting serious

O. came down on the train that weekend. All I could think about was seeing him again, and I couldn’t wait for him to exit the train station and enter my car. As I pulled over and put my flashers on, I saw him coming in a leather jacket, a knapsack slung easily over his shoulder. I was still nervous, but seeing him smile made me calm and giddy.

Driving back to my apartment, we talked about everything. Work and music and books, whatever came to mind. Our conversations were always so easy, trading remarks back and forth, back and forth, like a slow, comfortable game of ping pong. We spent countless hours talking to one another and could easily slip into deep, meaningful discussions just as readily as silly, mundane wisecracks.

During this time, the very start of our love, we’d get to my place and kiss like we hadn’t seen one another for years. His lips on mine were always soft, his tongue gently pushing, waiting for me to give in. Our hands would explore the other’s body, feeling for the tender spots, the touches that released a sigh or set free a giggle. Sometimes we’d stand in my kitchen for more than a few minutes, connected, eyes closed, heart open to the warmth of possibility, naked desire.

Occasionally we’d meet his friends at a bar, and other times we’d go out alone. During these first months, our time was spent looking at the world through the eyes of the other. I learned about alcoholic fathers and sexual molestation, he learned about losing love and always feeling misplaced. We were teaching one another, slowly showing our cards, hoping that together we might make a winning hand.


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