No rain
I once was involved with an unsuitable man. Here’s a note from me to him to the ether.
It might not be the rain. It’s more a combination of city streets,
and late at night, and that particular smell after the rain has come
down. There are some places that still jolt my heart a little, even
though you and I are a story long ago. Some streets I cannot walk
without thinking of you. You marked your territory in your mind, and I
can write over it but you (and I) are still there.
One rainy night I came to meet you, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I
got on the bus (though I knew I shouldn’t), and walked into the bar,
(though I knew I shouldn’t). I was pretending we were just friends
(though I knew I shouldn’t). Yes, that same old story.
Why go to meet you, when we’d agreed that this proximity taunting of
each other needed to stop? Why go to meet you, stand next you and make
polite conversation with your friend when I wished no-one else in the
room?
Two drinks in and you unexpectedly make our excuses. Outside, it is
pouring down as only October can. I worry about your friend making his
way home, and you say we should lose him. We’re off down a side street
and I feel stupidly giddy. I have you to myself, we’re getting drenched
and I don’t want to go home. There’s a minor scuffle over whether your
jacket is going over my shoulders, leaving you in shirt sleeves. I can’t
remember whether I accept - did I?
The rain gets heavier and you pull me into a doorway. Snug. Ever so
friendly in here, isn’t it? Of course we kiss. I spent most of my time
with you trying not to kiss you. My feet are getting wet from the little
rivulets of water, with my unsuitable canvas shoes. I want you. I
wanted you so badly. And always these temporary kisses: sheltering from
the rain, on our way home, in the dark corner of a bar. Our kisses were
always stolen somehow.
The rain ceases to matter. I would have kissed you in any
meteorological condition. How to explain without reverting to worlds not
turning, and our lips meeting… There was only you when we kissed.
There was no just friends, there was no shouldn’t be there, there was no
rain. Just me and you.
You should know that.
And then you walked me to the bus stop. And I sat on the bus alone; thinking of no rain, and my heart in the pit of my stomach.
Take Me Dancing…
Set to the soundtrack of the “Blue Pearl” song; a solitary kiss from a
girl from just south of the Tyne. “I’m a Maccum, not a Geordie” she
informed me, just outside the pool hall of the holiday park I was
staying on.
She wrote to me once, beautiful girl. A handwritten letter, a tape of
songs with too much meaning inferred. I don’t remember her name. We
were 14.
One Moment of Self-Control
In the light early hours of the morning I walked her home.
It was the end of just another night out and we wandered slowly through
the empty streets, looking occasionally (as people will do) through the
windows of the houses we passed. Most were still and empty, though some
were actually stirring despite the hour.
I can’t remember when or how I noticed her hand holding mine. I
wasn’t aware of any sensation or touch until I looked down and saw it,
as of the sudden, sharp feeling of pain when you observe a cut.
I held her hand tightly, the pleasure and comfort far outweighing the
guilt (of course, I’d already kissed her boyfriend, a man obviously far
too beautiful for his own good, hours before), not too far from her
home.
It was only as we turned the corner onto her decidedly grey street
that the rain came, suddenly and more or less out of nowhere (such an
odd description but it feels apt). We reached her front door and, in one
movement, she turned and kissed me, almost biting my lip in the
suddenness of it all, shivering with anticipation and the cold running
down our backs.
She muttered something about getting out of the downpour and into bed
and we both laughed at the blunt way she said it as she took me by both
hands and pulled me toward the door.
I wish I knew what stopped me, why at that point I decided this was
something I shouldn’t do. Perhaps I’d have ignored the thought, were it
all to happen again. But I did stop and with a long, long kiss goodnight
I turned away and started the long walk home.
