She pulled her underwear to the side and their she sat, gods favourite flower.
She fell asleep first. I joined at eleven. I woke up at three. I always sleep deep for a few hours then that’s it. The mind is too involved. I can tell she was awake. I could feel it. She got up and back in to bed three times.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yep.”
She had taken her pants off. Her ass pushed against me. I was hard but too scared of rejection. I touched her waist and she pushed in to me. I put my hand under her shirt and rubbed her left nipple. Her left nipple was always on my side. I was still waiting for pain. I was still feeling the energy in the room. To have sex now would be a slap in the face to all the times we made love when we were in love. I rubbed her body. She opened up her legs. Outside her underwear I touched her. I pinched her nipple and rubbed her clit until she started to moan, until she started to move her hips. Then I pulled my pants down and as I did she took hers off. I felt her, she was wet, a housefire in a monsoon. I put it in from behind and I knew exactly where to touch to make her cum, as if it was a process, but now with the added hatred there was fire again. I made her cum twice, with her on top of me, both facing the ceiling. It didn’t get dark in the Netherlands, it just stayed grey. The windows had no curtains and her skin looked blue. Her body looked like heaven. Felt like heaven. I laid her on her stomach and I should have stopped. I shouldn’t have finished. I came on her and the make up sex was over and we had not made up. I got toilet paper and wiped her. As she stood up I wiped myself. She got back into bed and without touching we went back to sleep.
Few hours later, not being able to help myself, searching for happiness somewhere, I asked “How was the sex?”
“What?”
“The sex.”
“What sex?”
“The sex we had this morning.”
“Oh, you can thank Yognas for that.”
Yognas was the name of the director of the movie we saw the day before. It made her horny, the movie. Not me. I was just there. Just a tool. Just a large cock attached to a fool. I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, how is that the same guy?
At five am she sat by the window and smoked a joint. I took a photo of her. The dark silhouette she was with a face of sadness. The windows in the background. The Netherlands still grey.
“For the last three weeks, every morning I have woken up feeling heavily depressed,” I said.
“I guess it is a good time to leave,” She replied.
I didn’t say anything.
I sat there as another sad painting as the sun was more yellow. Listening to sad music. Being sad. I had tried to fight for too long. Fight knowing I am alone. Fight knowing I am broken but maybe I can prove I am not. Then it all came flooding in. I took a gamble. I knew something but that something still hasn’t found me. I sold my house fifteen months ago to pursue writing. I started a website. I wrote two books. No one cares. No one reads. They cant all be wrong and me right? And if so, how lonely that is. I have failed at everything but trying and I think I would rather have not found out, still thinking I can. I have no money. Every girl I have ever loved cannot help but despise me. I see all their faces. They all have brown eyes. I sit on a desk chair in the apartment and put my head in my hands. Behind me she sits on a red couch, looking at her phone. I miss so many girls who no longer exist. I miss me. I miss my dog. I miss thinking it didn’t matter that I had nothing. I search for something. Nothing comes but tears. Finally. Tears. After all these weeks of staying strong. Holding my ground. I give in. I give up. I am ashamed and keep quiet, keep my leaking face away from her. The Nile floods and the banks break away. I cant help but makes noise. She asks me to sit beside her. I say no. Then, as I cry, as I accept truth, she grabs the desk chair on wheels and moves it towards her. I was a crying baby in a pram. I laughed. How humiliating. How silly this all is.
“I don’t want to hurt you but I can only be truthful,” she says.
“I am not sad because I hurt you, I hurt you because I am sad,” I replied.
“It is okay,” she said. “You just need to learn from this. Know that you don’t live in a vacuum and your actions effect others.”
I wanted to say, what about yours? But I didn’t.
She rubbed my back. I took a deep breath and slapped both my knees. Sometimes you just need to get on with it. The cry made me feel better, made me feel something other than thick heavy guilt. Their were so many opportunities in having nothing. I had nothing when I met her. I fell in love with her because I was free. This terrible disgusting painful freedom.
“I am going to head out for the morning,” I said.
“Okay.”
I kissed her lips gently with her cheeks in my hands. She opened her mouth and we kissed like two virgins on their wedding night. I have used that line before but it works much better here. We lay on the couch again.
“I don’t want to have sex with you,” she says.
“I don’t want to either,” I reply.
There was hope in the air, terrible disgusting painful hope. An airhole in my coffin. I got on my
knees and spoke to her vagina.
“Thanks for everything,” I whispered closely so my lips touched her. “It was a pleasure getting to know you. Getting to work out what you like. All the joy we shared. All the good times. How wet you got for me…”
I pretended it was speaking back to me.
“What? No. I cant… Because she wont let me… I could ask but I don’t want to... Because I am scared.”
I looked up at her holding back a smile and said, “Your vagina asked for a final kiss.”
She pulled her underwear to the side and their she sat, gods favourite flower. With my eyes closed all I can taste was her, all I could hear was her pleasure, to me, sex made sense, maybe the only thing that does. I wanted to keep my eyes closed forever, I didn’t want to see the truth. She came in my mouth.
“Thanks,” she said as I wiped my beard.
“You're welcome.”
Then I left, knowing I gave it everything as I walk with nothing. I lost my ego. My pride. The illusions of the future and the lies of the past. Is this freedom? People have done much worse for it. I have no choice to surrender, God has me again.
