Wine love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


A classic.

 

 

There was a story, I enjoyed hearing over and over again when I was younger, from my mom’s soft lips to my tiny ears. I recall being so tired of all the homework I had to deal with after school, that joy of being in my mother’s arms after having my hair brushed and my face cleaned! The story was about a woman who lost her beans because of the storm, and every night she goes to the well and asks it to give it back so she can feed her children.

This story reminds me of what I’m going through right now, the similarity might not be clear for one who has never been there but I’ll paint it clear and loud.

As this tremendous life keeps taking me by surprise, kneeling me facing everything I have no power over, I have once again chose to rise: stronger one might presume, but stone cold is what I became, if it is not my first, I confirm it to not being my last.

Enjoy the taste of my bleeding fingers on this paper, cut by your own action.

 

 

‘’ I still remember it as if it was yesterday, his touch on my skin wandering... it is frightening what seems at first mimicking, starts to be an intuition, a spontaneous way of being.’’ Said Caroline as she shared her story with her with us, her first intercours, the girl enjoyed every moment of it, and fell into the charm of that one unique act that connects two purely naked bodies. As my eyes didn’t leave hers, my mind was replaying the awful scene of my rape, of how my body was shared with the person I had faithfully loved, and honored with the word of ‘’friend’’, how this one used my body as if it was a disposable sex toy, beating me and forcing himself on me. It was nearly midnight, and I have never felt such oppression in my whole life: as if there was a lump stuck in my heart, I excused myself and ran out.

On my way back to my place, I stared at the shimmering moon poisoning my sight while my thoughts were somewhere between my subconsciousness and the tears that I have no power to bare. The stroll took all the turns but the right one, attempting to clear my mind, my eyes laid on a figure sitting on the side of the walkway holding a cigarette on his hands, doing what seemed to me gazing, gazing at the stars of that lovely sad night, a figure so beautiful, so breath taking: his hands, were beating with life, short nails, fingers cuffed with what looked like skulls and a Claddagh ring, he inhaled that poison with his head held high, mouthing that clop giving me a shivering skin, and an excited joy, giving me fever in the morning, fever all through the night. ‘’ a woman like you should not walk alone at night’’ he whispered suspiciously, to his voice, I didn’t know whether to run or to scream, I just froze right there. He continues : ‘’ do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift, sticking around like summat in your teeth? And you end up loosing it all just because you’re scared?’’ to that I smiled, agreeing, and asked for a smoke. Though it was a bizarre situation, I literally had nothing to lose, for all I cared, I didn’t. Sharply inhaling it, I sat next to a stranger and told him about every thought I had, in a matter of minutes he knew me better than anyone, and I knew him too. How can one be so close yet so far? How was I able to trust this devine figure? And how in the name of God did he tell me about every important event of his life?I smiled upon the thought of it, and as if he knew, he smiled back.

 

 The empty street, and the blinding shimmering moon became our warm guardian, and the smoke our companion, as we met every night in the same spot, exchanging our news, our days, and events. There was this time where I came first, as I brought a bottle of rosé, and two win glasses,  I sat on this front porche of a couple’s house that were out of town for the weekend, near the sidewalk where we used to meet . My eyes caught him looking for me and I waved like a little girl, even jumped of joy, ‘’wine’’ he said, ‘’Our favorite’’, I replied. A glass lead to another, through the tears of pain and joy, sharing what was giving my head sleepless night, and what pushed my heart to be screaming at the world, silently. The thing that I loved the most about him is the fact he never tried to make laugh when I’m sad, but he listened, he listened to understand, to contribute, but never to reply, the only answer given was: ‘’I’m here love, no mater how far, I’ll always be with you’’... something that I only understood later on.

 

Wine drunk, we decided to enter the house of the couple, how adventurous this man was! Under the mop we found the key, found our way to the bathroom, nature called!

As I was laying on the bedroom floor right across the hall, he whispers: ‘’ maybe a hot bathtub for my lady’’, extending his hand towards me, arched his eyebrows with a lascivious *lassivious* grin, and I, grabbed it with finesse. I undressed myself as he stood outside of the room, I slipped into the hot tub, covered with bubbles, surrounded with scented candles, he asks for permission to go back in, I allow.

 

The night was long, and our long conversations ended with us on the bed of strangers, up until the morning. ‘’this thing we have with strangers, might become a habit God forbids’’, we laughed for a bit and the silence broke in....

 

 ‘’ I love you...’’ he said. To that I can almost swear that my heart stopped for a second. Leaning on to give him, perhaps the most passionate kiss ever, I stopped to softly answer, ‘’ I love you too’’.

 

Since then, the only thing I have left of him is good memories, and a feeling of hope, love, and happiness.

 

 

I still go back to the same spot where we first met, and I still recall our first conversation, sometimes, I sit quietly on that porche with a bottle in my hand or a cigarette, reminiscing.

Sometimes I sit with hate and anger, sometimes I don’t even give myself the chance to think about it; his leaving without any warning was painful, it aches me every time he crosses my mind , but we can’t cheat death, or can we now love?

 

 

 

 

 

-Aging

 

 

 

 


Submitted: November 26, 2020

© Copyright 2021 besma aging. All rights reserved.

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