the start of a short story
She, through her bright slightly off-white teeth & soft pink glossy lips, tells me not to leave. Her eyes glisten and her tone is affectionate, making the request seem as genuine it was intended. I’m half a bottle of wine in, hyper aware of how cold the outside is in comparison to her bed with its cloud like baby blue duvet & I was already not particularly looking forward to the black late night bus ride home with the regular drunks and creeps. I tell myself these are my reasons for caving in instantly and deciding to stay but in reality, I don’t need any convincing whatsoever to stay the night by her side and she knows this.
Unprompted because speaking it wasn’t necessary, she begins to roll another joint as I trail my fingers through her green and blue box braids, lightly running the tips of my pastel purple painted acrylics across her scalp. Momentarily pausing her perfectly pearled roll, she leans forward, reaching across the bed to skip through the autoplay countdown to the next episode on netflix, putting a halt to my idle hand movements. I take that and the near completion of the joint as my cue to refill our wine glasses and water cups before settling into the bed for the night. I knew that once I was sufficiently high with another glass of wine in my system, I would be incredibly thirsty and irresistibly sleepy.
We reposition ourselves on the bed so that we are in the prime cuddle position, her slightly propped up against the headboard with my head on her chest and our legs intertwined. She turns off the IKEA table lamp as she retrieves the lighter covered in mini grass green dinosaurs while I adjust the volume and brightness on the laptop. This is often our nighttime routine, done so often that we manage it all without having to untangle our soft brown bodies. She kisses me on my forehead before sparking up; my sigh of content is covered by the lighter click. From cuddles to sleepovers to forehead kisses, she knows how to keep me happy. She always tells me she just wants me to be happy. She is quietly thankful that I am so easy to please.
Somewhere halfway through our smoke break, netflix is changed to music and around three fourths through, the rest of the wine is consumed. It’s a night like any other, with nothing largely different or exceptionally special about it, but I’ve been making a habit of being intentional in the comfort of my routine and tonight I can’t stop smiling and repeatedly telling her how much I love her and how beautiful she is because with intention comes appreciation. She avidly and attentively listens to me praise her, like she does every time I talk. Eventually and subconsciously, we nod off asleep, each coaxed into this state by the sound and chest movements of the others’ breathing.
I dream of summertime. It’s a day when the weather is downright flawless. It’s warm and sunny with the slightest breeze. There’s clouds in the sky, the big fluffy kind that look fake, but they don’t dare cover up the incredibly bright yellow sun. I’m at the beach and it’s empty; my happy place just the way I like it. With the caramel colored sand under my wiggling toes and the sound of the foam tipped waves crashing all around me, I take the deepest breath and extend my arms upwards towards the sky. I scream at the top of my lungs in an act of catharsis and then proceed to walk to the beachfront property with big windows and lots of mirrors that I imagined up for myself. She isn’t there with me but I think of her among all the other things that cross my subliminal mind in this dreamworld trance.
Suddenly but not abruptly, I’m awake. I don’t remember when or how I went from unconscious to slightly alert but I did and I am and it feels like it’s too early for this transition. I roll onto my back and exhale a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding before lazily reaching my half asleep arm across the bed to find emptiness where a warm, deep breathing body should be. I inhale deeply and glance into the bathroom, only to smell nothing that indicates breakfast is being made or see anything that indicates a morning routine, consistent of teeth brushing and face washing, is underway. With the little energy I’ve managed to mentally muster up, I pathetically kick myself out from under the covers and open up the window curtains to let in the wash of the gray blue sky and the reflection of the pale looking clouds.
I tread lightly into the living room, still wearing yesterday's tight crop top and Calvin Klein thong that I passed out in, to find her on the couch drinking green tea from her favorite Florida orange mug and wrapped in the light blue robe I gave her for last year's Christmas.