Short Story

We lie in the dark, side by side in his bed - in his room; a place that I had yearned to be for years upon years. The soft cotton sheet and heavy blankets atop the bed shelter our bare bodies from the harshness of a cold Canberra night. We lay still, not knowing how to or who would make the first move.

In the stillness and silence of that moment, memories of our years together played in my mind’s eye like an old film.

Sitting in the passenger’s seat of his Datsun watching him as he drives, his hair out, curls tumbling around his face. His lips pink.

Him, running across the bridge on New Year’s Eve throwing his shoes into Lake Burley Griffin.

My surprise when he tells me he hadn’t seen any of the movie we just walked out of because he’d been watching me instead.

The greenness of the grass in the park on the day we first kissed.

The countless times that I have looked into his eyes; their perfect almond shape.

Watching him across a crowded table as he charms everyone and realising that the boy I have known since preschool, has grown into a man.

All of these moments and hundreds besides had brought us to this one. Lying in the dark. I had imagined being here with him since I had been old enough to understand intimacy but now that it had begun the weight of it kept me still.

No longer able to withhold, he gave into temptation, he reached for me. With the lightest touch, his fingertips soft and trembling he traced a pattern across my skin as his hand inched toward my breast. I surrendered to him, hooking my arm around his torso, I spread my hand across his broad back and drew myself to him. I quivered as the entire length of his naked body came into contact with my own. To finally hold him and to have him hold me brought tears to my eyes.

I explored his smooth, soft skin with my hands, my legs, and my mouth. I savoured every touch, every inch of him. I had to hold him hard to stop my hands from shaking but as he kissed me, my nerves drifted away. He tasted and felt just as I remembered, delicate and sugary, like fairy floss.

His kisses moved gently around my face and neck, increasing in length and pressure until I could hold back no longer. I pushed my body harder into him and he kissed me hard on the lips. We rolled over each other to the edge of the bed, teetering, not caring if we toppled off.

I delighted in the scent of his hair, his breath and his skin. In the smell of the man that I had known and loved longer than any other.

When our lips parted and our grip eased we drew breath as if coming up from underwater. He rested lightly on top of me, his elbow beside my head, his head resting on his hand and I took a moment to look at him. Moonlight coming in through a crack in the curtain caught his face and I could see that he too had tears in his eyes. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. Fingers of love. He delicately closed his eyes and as he exhaled there came words upon his breath. ‘You feel so…’ His voice trailed off as I slipped my legs out from under him and curled them around his waist. He studied my face before finally asking, ‘You’re sure?’ I took his face in my hand and drew my thumb across his cheekbone. If I had been asked to map his freckles, I might just have been able. ‘Yes,’ I said, as the tears I had been holding back fell from my eyes. He lent down and tenderly kissed them dry. He ran his hand down the length of my body, head to hip and it was not until he pressed himself against me and ever so softly inside of me that I realised I had been holding my breath.

Before this moment I had never known what it meant ‘to make love.’

I looked up at him, not wanting to miss a single second of him, of us. He opened his mouth and groaningly said, ‘I’m…you’re…home.’ I could not find elegant enough words to tell him that I felt the same and even if I had I doubt I could have spoken them. He had captured my breath.

And then he withdrew. Moved to the opposite edge of the bed, turned his back on me and curled into a ball.

I lay there, shocked and deeply confused, unsure how to behave and what to do next until a slow and sorrowful sob rose within him. I moved to him. Curled myself around him and held him as tightly as I could as his mournful cry only increased. ‘I’m not letting go,’ I said, ‘I’m not letting go, even if you want me to.’ With the sound of my voice his breathing slowed and became more even, his chest stopped heaving and his tears subsided. ‘Don’t let go. Oh God, don’t let go.’

I woke to winter sun pouring in the window. Something that I always loved about Canberra is the light. I got up out of bed and dressed. I had slept so soundly, so deeply there beside him. I hadn’t heard him leave. My heart ached but I had been here before. I knew how to move on, to forget.