He knew he couldn’t let it pass. She was doing things she wasn’t supposed to do, things he wouldn’t let her do, but she did and did too much. So when it was time to leave, he woke her where she had fallen asleep on a sofa and took her back on a slow quiet walk to the six story building where she lived.
They rode the elevator up, she leaning against the buttoned panel, him against green steel of the back wall. When they exited, he followed her over to the stairwell, where he stepped down one as he always did so she could fit neatly under his chin and they could close their eyes and arms around each other.
He was confident of the brief consequences – they would break it off for a day or two, awkward silences when they grouped together at the benches in the park, but then one day they would find themselves sitting next to each other again where once again they would lean into each other as they always had.
They held onto each other , one step up one step down, and fit in a way that he could feel the curl of her ear and the soft coarseness of her hair against his cheek while moving his hand around her back, playing a familiar song.
But then he said this was over, that they were done, and did it with the expectation it would be a temporary punishment, and a few days from now they would be standing in the same spot, kissing, groping, finding out as much about themselves as they did about each other.
She didn’t react at first – but then leaned in a little more softly, with a slow quiet exhale into his chest. Then, with a small pat with her palm to his back, she slid away. The last image he remembered was her hair, covering her face, the fall of it in a soft wave behind her, as she walked down the fluorescent lit hall and turned the corner to her apartment.
Some forty years later he woke up with a start, his stomach dropping, suddenly remembering that last gentle pat to his back.
Wait, he thought, the knot tightening…I didn’t end it. She did.
Leo Cussen
Not titled (girl walking away) , 2009
pastel on black rag paper
9 comments
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September 15, 2012 at 7:57 am
steve
Nicely done. Looking forward to more. S
September 15, 2012 at 4:34 pm
lazarusdodge
I really appreciate the support, Steve – this one was tough to put together for many reasons…
- J.
September 15, 2012 at 12:32 pm
David Kanigan
Loved it…each line to the finish.
September 15, 2012 at 4:36 pm
lazarusdodge
I’m a sucker for encouragement, David – and that last line was a killer…if you know what I mean…
- J.
September 15, 2012 at 4:44 pm
David Kanigan
Yes, in fact after I hit publish on the comment – I regretted ending it with that’s “quite a punch line at the finish.”
September 15, 2012 at 9:14 pm
lazarusdodge
I hope my comment didn’t come off as arrogant. Curiously, that last line was the first line that appeared. Everything else was built on top of it. And even though the rest of the story was rearranged and edited, that last line never changed.
It was a shock when it appeared…revelation takes years to develop yet snaps you awake in a fraction of a moment…
September 15, 2012 at 9:18 pm
David Kanigan
No arrogance. All flowed like it was meant to be.
September 18, 2012 at 9:46 am
splendidone
I never tire of your writings and I always walk away with a greater sense of curiousity than I had previously
perhaps that is the greatest compliment one can give a writer that you feed my soul and yet always leave me hungry for more.
September 18, 2012 at 10:08 am
lazarusdodge
Curiosity is a driving force…then we have to decide what to do with what we find.
Thank you for the curiosity that led you here and your wonderful supportive words.
Keep on writing!
- J.