Now that it's after the before

I would have been smitten. For sure I would have been smitten before. Already on date 2 or 3 there would have been the inner smiles, a lingering look over his eyes; my lips. We'd start sentences at the same time and then burst out laughing, I'd be looking at his fingers around the glass--long and strong, just as I like. We'd tingle with anticipation of that perfect moment when we'd softly touch. A goodbye at the door would have been something to look forward to: time would stop, warm lips meet. We would have stood there kissing a first long kiss--cheeks warm, hands cradling a shoulder-blade, a waist. 
"My neighbors are still up," I would say, catching the light in their living room window. "I think we should say goodnight."  "I think I should come back inside." He'd reply.
He'd guide us back, moving the door closed behind him. "You have to push it in more," I'd laugh through our kiss. He'd lean on the door with his body, pulling me closer, until it wrestled its way into place and sounded its heavy clunk.

I would have fallen in love. And so would he. I'd tell my brother about him and a month or so later, after we slept together for the first few times, I'd tell my father I met a nice guy. He's a business man. His family is on the East Coast. No, I don't know where they're from before that. There's nothing wrong with him, Dad...he's single now but he was married once before. Yes he's divorced. Well, no-- there are no single guys my age who don't have baggage.

We would have been going out for three, maybe six months when we'd start dealing with daily reality. My need for time to myself, his work schedule, our different pace and energy levels. I'd want to be spontaneous on a Thursday night; he'd need to plan for a babysitter. There would be agreements, compromises, understandings--we are both very good at that. Give a little bit here; a little bit there--chip away at what used to be our lives to make this work. We would have probably succeeded and everything would have been fine. Just fine. The life I never thought I'd have but now that it's here--it's just right, I'd say to anyone who asked and to myself.

All this would have been possible. It would have been enough. I might have even been happy.

But this was before. Before I knew how it feels when things are just right. Before I knew what it's like to discover another part of me in someone else and before I tasted the sweet surprise of the parts in him that aren't mine and how they made me so much more.

After dinner and drinks and a jazz band that was supposed to be playing but wasn't--after I had put on Alan Pasqua on the CD player, after he had put down his glass of water and I reluctantly put down my tea mug...seated next to me, his thigh touching mine, his eyes drilling holes in my temple, he's about to say something...lean over--I put my hands on my thighs--almost slap them--and say: "I'd better kick you out."

He freezes. "Yes." He says after a pause. "I'd better go." And he takes our cup and mug to the kitchen. I follow him, walking a few steps behind, careful to not cross the line I just drew. We hug goodbye. I'm tired. This is so much like before--a perfect before--but I know I am no longer able to--simply can't--be there again.

I turn off the lights, check the lock on the door, brush my teeth and melt into my pajamas. I surround myself with pillows and bury myself in the comforter. Right now it just feels good to be alone.

Comments

Nice piece of writing.... great tone...