You stepped quickly into my apartment but stood there in the kitchen refusing to move into the room. You looked down at the floor. Your whole body was trembling. I thought you were on the verge of tears. You would not let me hold you or led you in. We stood there facing each other and I was at a loss on what to do.
Gently, I asked “do you want to go home?”
You did not answer but the question seemed to force you to a decision. Even with your head bowed, I could see you struggling with your thoughts and emotions. Then silently, you walked into the room and sat on the edge of my bed.
I sat besides you making sure that our shoulders did not touch. Looking back, it was kind of amusing, wasn’t it? Just minutes ago, we were in deep embraces but now we just sat there apart, afraid to touch. Hesitant conversations gradually stole its way in. Inconsequential and meaningless conversations to fill the void and erased the edges. As we feel more comfortable, I put my hand over and enveloped your shoulder.
You stiffened, and then relaxed. You leaned over and rested your head on my body. I softly brushed it with my hand and ran my fingers through your hair. I held your head to my chest to hear the thumping of my heart that must have sounded like an echoing boom from an endless cave. There was a spreading wetness on my chest. You were crying again. But your hand tightened round my back as if afraid I will draw away. The other hand reached out for one of mine and clasped it. We held each other like this for a long while, sometimes giving each other a little squeeze to show our affection. That was how I will always want to remember us.
It was a serene and comfortable but temporal state. It could not last. For passion does not flow like languid water. It crackles, erupts and burns, fiercely.
We reached out for each other. Our tentative kisses became more intense, more urgent. The dam had been breached. There were no further restraints. The emotions we had kept in check burst forth. Nothing matters any more except giving all and possessing all in return. Your strength was surprising. Your hunger was amazing. I found your desire for me so beautiful. And that fierce tenderness I felt, how can that not be love? It was too beautiful to be called lust.
I looked up at Beth and saw tears in her eyes. In a trembling voice, she said “I was so ashamed of the intensity of my emotions, so ashamed I never knew what my heart is capable of holding. And how little control I had over it. All that my heart can feel, I felt it all at once. Fearful and joyous, troubled and euphoric, hopeful and sad. Yes, sad because I knew I was lost. Overcame by a desire I had no control of nor did I even want to try.”
“I was brought up a proper Catholic,” she continued. “What we did I knew was wrong. What we did was sinful. And I was so afraid. If what I felt was not love, then it must be lust. But I was beyond the point of caring. Tomorrow I will confess and leave you, but tonight…”
“And then when I was ready to give you all, you asked the most stupid and hurtful question. I had also not heard a more beautiful or noble question since. “Are you a virgin?” I froze. You did not wait for me to continue for it was not a question to you but a stating of fact. “You must save it for the one you will marry.” With those words, you destroyed me that night. As your words sliced my heart, it also severe any doubts and hope I may have. You were such a beautiful person. I loved you.”
I reach out to hold Beth but only touch air. Tears roll down her cheek and drip onto the floor collecting in a small puddle. I do not understand the reality of the ghost world or how it relates to ours.
“I am not a weak person. I do not cry easy” Beth said. “But you make me vulnerable. I hate it and I don’t. I was a happy person, you changed that. It took me a long time to be happy again.”
“I’m sorry” I said.
Yes, I remembered your easy laughter. In a crowded bus ride to Pasay, I was amazed how easily you made friends with strangers and talked to them like old friends. When I asked you what were spoken, you always reply “oh, nothing.” But then, you will volunteer interesting details about this person and that. I could never be like that and admired you for it. I am sorry I hurt you. But it was you who left me the next morning.
Gently, I asked “do you want to go home?”
You did not answer but the question seemed to force you to a decision. Even with your head bowed, I could see you struggling with your thoughts and emotions. Then silently, you walked into the room and sat on the edge of my bed.
I sat besides you making sure that our shoulders did not touch. Looking back, it was kind of amusing, wasn’t it? Just minutes ago, we were in deep embraces but now we just sat there apart, afraid to touch. Hesitant conversations gradually stole its way in. Inconsequential and meaningless conversations to fill the void and erased the edges. As we feel more comfortable, I put my hand over and enveloped your shoulder.
You stiffened, and then relaxed. You leaned over and rested your head on my body. I softly brushed it with my hand and ran my fingers through your hair. I held your head to my chest to hear the thumping of my heart that must have sounded like an echoing boom from an endless cave. There was a spreading wetness on my chest. You were crying again. But your hand tightened round my back as if afraid I will draw away. The other hand reached out for one of mine and clasped it. We held each other like this for a long while, sometimes giving each other a little squeeze to show our affection. That was how I will always want to remember us.
It was a serene and comfortable but temporal state. It could not last. For passion does not flow like languid water. It crackles, erupts and burns, fiercely.
We reached out for each other. Our tentative kisses became more intense, more urgent. The dam had been breached. There were no further restraints. The emotions we had kept in check burst forth. Nothing matters any more except giving all and possessing all in return. Your strength was surprising. Your hunger was amazing. I found your desire for me so beautiful. And that fierce tenderness I felt, how can that not be love? It was too beautiful to be called lust.
I looked up at Beth and saw tears in her eyes. In a trembling voice, she said “I was so ashamed of the intensity of my emotions, so ashamed I never knew what my heart is capable of holding. And how little control I had over it. All that my heart can feel, I felt it all at once. Fearful and joyous, troubled and euphoric, hopeful and sad. Yes, sad because I knew I was lost. Overcame by a desire I had no control of nor did I even want to try.”
“I was brought up a proper Catholic,” she continued. “What we did I knew was wrong. What we did was sinful. And I was so afraid. If what I felt was not love, then it must be lust. But I was beyond the point of caring. Tomorrow I will confess and leave you, but tonight…”
“And then when I was ready to give you all, you asked the most stupid and hurtful question. I had also not heard a more beautiful or noble question since. “Are you a virgin?” I froze. You did not wait for me to continue for it was not a question to you but a stating of fact. “You must save it for the one you will marry.” With those words, you destroyed me that night. As your words sliced my heart, it also severe any doubts and hope I may have. You were such a beautiful person. I loved you.”
I reach out to hold Beth but only touch air. Tears roll down her cheek and drip onto the floor collecting in a small puddle. I do not understand the reality of the ghost world or how it relates to ours.
“I am not a weak person. I do not cry easy” Beth said. “But you make me vulnerable. I hate it and I don’t. I was a happy person, you changed that. It took me a long time to be happy again.”
“I’m sorry” I said.
Yes, I remembered your easy laughter. In a crowded bus ride to Pasay, I was amazed how easily you made friends with strangers and talked to them like old friends. When I asked you what were spoken, you always reply “oh, nothing.” But then, you will volunteer interesting details about this person and that. I could never be like that and admired you for it. I am sorry I hurt you. But it was you who left me the next morning.
To be continued…
No comments:
Post a Comment