By M.
Date: 19 April 2001
Loose Ends
I walked you out in the early morning. It was, for once, a sunny day in London,
and the city was just beginning to come alive. Up till that last moment, we
had talked about nothing much, though when you were sitting on my bed in the
room watching me pack, I could tell that we both wanted to say something but
did not have the courage.
I remember how we both sat out the dancing in the Mexican club the night before.
You sat with me faithfully all night, not saying very much, but sitting very
close with your arm (slightly possessively) around the back of my chair. Because
the music was so loud, we had to lean close to talk. I took advantage of this,
enjoying the thrill of running my fingertips against your slightly unshaven
cheek. It was not rough as I had expected. The hairs were fine and soft.
I could feel my lips brush against your damp curly hair as I whispered in
your ear. You asked me why I was not dancing. I said I would dance the next
time, and you said you would hold me to that.
When we stood facing each other at the gates, there was no longer any point in
denying it, but as I recall we did not say anything. Ever the perfect example
of English gentlemanliness, you extended your hand in what was supposed to be
a platonic handshake. I smile when I think of this, because it is something
that is so quintessentially you. I eluded this and took you into my arms as
I had wanted to. I told you that I would miss you. You said you would miss me
too, and that I was always welcome to visit. From knowing you and your
reservedness I could tell that was a big step for you. I didn't want to prolong
it, so I said "I am going now".
As I started to walk away you pulled me back for one last hug, and it seemed
as though all the longing in the world was compressed into that one embrace.
You said you'd call me.
I walked away then into the sunshine, back to finish packing, back to
wait for the car to come and take me away from London.
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