flying

‘Come fly with me’, she said.

I took her hand. It dissolved into colours – purple, red, violet, maroon, indigo, auburn, orange, amber. The amber of candlelight in my room and caramel, the caramel of hair that did not belong to me. Her hand was still in mine, dark brown eyes speckled with deep chocolate specks that shone. It shone brighter than the candles.

Smooth skin, short breaths, long strokes, she did not utter a word. Neither did I. She was not real after all, it was just a magic trick in my head that I did not want to let go of.

I held on tight, never letting go of her hand. And we flew. Over the polluted skies of the metropolitan city, over the heads banging at an outdoor rock concert, over the speeding lights on the highway, billboards advertising make-up and new movies, over all of the mundane things that made up my life without her.

Hands still clasped, we were back to the beach. This time there was no moon leading the way, it was just her silent feet on the wet sand.

‘Remember?’

Of course I remembered, how could I forget?

There was suddenly the sound of drums, beating consistenly, like a heart. Bu-bup. Reminding me that there was a clock somewhere, I did not have her for very long. The beat got faster.

I turned her around so she faced me. We did not speak. She came in closer, wound her arms around my neck so that one was in my hair, the other was splayed against my back. She smiled that smile of hers, it shone in the dark. And she kissed me. I felt myself melt under her touch, like I always do, and always will, even in my dreams. Now, only in my dreams. The beating of the heart-clock returned.

I was still deep in her kiss, the smell of the sea mixed with the distinct smell of her skin, her conditioner and the lotion she used on her body. The beating got louder, and my arms went around her waist, pulling her in. She was in a dress suddenly, she had been in jeans earlier. The dress flapped against her caramel legs as she stood on tiptoe, smiling into my mouth.

Midnight blue, I then knew why it was called that – such a dark blue, it was almost black, but for purple racing clouds in the sky. She always did love purple. So I did not know whose dream it was, mine or hers. Mine, since she had probably moved into other realms, making new colours elsewhere, with people she never dreamed of meeting.

I did not want to let her go. The sparkling eyes met mine in such joy that they were sad. No words. Our foreheads rested against each other’s.

‘Don’t go,’ I said.

Her mouth pursed, her head lowered, the way it always did when she tried not to cry. I ran my hand across her collarbones, she took my hand and placed it over her heart, then kissed my forehead.

‘Don’t forget me,’ she said, slowly loosening her grip.

‘How can I?’....’Come back soon?’

She had started moving away from me, the coldness gradually set in. First her arms were not moulded to me, running through my hair, fingers gently putting pressure on my scalp the way they did when she tried to relax me. Then her skin became separate from mine, our hips were not touching, her breathing did not match mine. I did not feel every emotion that ran through her. And she moved away.

‘Come back? Of course. Where else will I be except with you?’

‘Always?’ I asked.

‘For as long as you want.’

My eyes flew open.

The air-conditioner was running, it was cold, my bladder was full. I wanted to go back to sleep. No, I wanted to go back in time. I looked at the clock – 2.50 am. My mind raced. Seventy three days or so. 1,762 hours. I nearly started weeping. I could smell her on my pillows, from seventy five or eighty days ago, when she would come over, love me, listen to me, hold me.

I wanted to fly with her all the time. But of course, I couldn’t.