When viewing the room I rented it out on the fun fact that I had direct access to the bathroom, opinion of which changed immediately. I now have very intimate knowledge of my housemates bowel movements and habits for example what kind of sounds they make when sitting on the shitter. It is easily the most disgusting thing I have ever had to go through... and am still going through.
So sitting there, just gazing into space and a story came into my mind. I was meant to be job hunting but anyone who writes knows the delicious intoxicating feeling when a story comes to you and you just have to revel in it for a bit before putting pen to paper. Yes Pen to Paper, I am a traditional girl I do things the old fashioned and time consuming way.
It's about the one thing I love writing about, love....
The First Time
I remember the first time I saw her...I mean really saw her. Until then she was always there... always. In the background smiling her sarcastic small smile; the stink of superiority clinging to her and following her everywhere; her eyes lighting up when given the chance for subtle humiliation; her monotonous tone and the 'plateau, darling' which she always spoke of. But regardless of all her annoying quirks she still managed to blend in effortlessly, unnoticed. So when I did notice her, sitting across from me with a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other smiling her crooked little smile, a mischievous glint flickering in her eyes, looking directly at me, into me... I had to take the hit.
And now I lie next to her. Her hair covering her face. The duvet wrapped tightly across her chest moving slowly with her breathing. I listen carefully. She has uneven ragged breaths which steadies momentarily but then resumes its uneven harmony. She frowns and mutters something and drags a hand across her face. I twine a few strands of her hair around my fingers and she moves towards me. I try and remember everything. The whirlwind obsession that followed. The need to see her, the curiosity she brought out in me, the constant questions - no answers. The nagging voice in my head which I ignored as I kissed her for the first time. The voice, louder as I placed my hands over her body and watched with pleasure as she moved under them.
I look around the room - full of her things. The small mementos she collects, the clothes strewn around the furniture and the floor. Several books all open resting in various 'reading spots.' A chaotic mess she describes as her world. She wakes up and smiles and it's a different kind of smile. There is nothing nasty behind that smile it's just for me. She's still tired so I stroke her face and she whispers that she loves me and I smile and I kiss her and I tell her that I am madly and completely in love with her.
I drive home. It's dark and it is raining. The wipers squeak, clearing the windscreen of fat blobs of water as they crash down. The sound is soothing today. Headlights race past and my head is full of her. Her words, her touch, her morning kisses, the empty wine bottles, the endless cups of coffee. Her lips against my skin, the pressure of her fingers as they trace the side of my body gently leaving a trail of goosebumps. But the voice is getting louder in my head and the colours are blurring. Her face is frozen in my head... unmoving.
I walk into the house. It's dark. I notice her coat and put mine besides it carefully. She doesn't like mess. I read the note that has been left on the coffee table next to the small pile of coasters. 'I waited up.' I place my keys besides it and look up at the dark stairs leading up to nowhere, up to my life. I climb them slowly.
She's already in bed, fast asleep. I undress quietly and slip into the bed, our backs touch. I listen to her breathing. It's regular and even. She doesn't mutter. My eyes grow heavy and I feel her turn towards me. She puts her arm around me and nestles into my back. I turn to face her and take her into my arms. She smiles and her eyes are still closed and I remember the first time I saw her. I remember the first time I kissed her. The first time I fell in love with her. I study her face and notice the small lines of change. The face I've known for all these years. Does she know, I wonder. I stroke her face and she opens her eyes briefly. She whispers those three words and voice inside my head sounds like steel drums. I kiss her forehead. 'I love you too,' I say, I lie. The voice in my head is silenced. The silence of heavy judgement. I grow tired, her face filling my mind as I fall asleep.
