Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Kimmydon Week 12 Entry: Waiting


Picture 1Picture 2

Kimmydon's Choice: Both


The people pass me, heading... somewhere. I don't care. They don't notice me. I am just a girl on a bench, moping. I look at the reflective surface of the building, tracing the dark streaks tears had made on my face. I need to stop this. It isn't going to get better this way. This was temporary. What is my problem?

My mind drifts back to the night before, the morning he said goodbye.

"I'm going to give you something to hold for the next two weeks," he declared. He kissed me, unfastening my pants. I put my hands around him, pushing up his T-shirt and feeling the smooth skin of his back, the planes of his shoulder blades.

My pants pooled at my ankles and I lost my balance, falling on the bed. We both laughed. It was so like me to stumble, even into bed. He slipped off my socks and stroked my feet, still smiling.

I continued to chuckle until he put a kiss to the arch of my left foot. Then he started kissing his way up. I closed my eyes and clutched the sheets beside me. His stubble made tracing the movements easy. It tickled and stung and burned, but in all the best ways. When he reached my thigh, he turned his head, rubbing his smoother cheekbone along it. I felt his lashes as his eyes closed and heard a soft moan from him, barely audible.

"God, I'm going to miss you," he whispered.

I sat up quickly, pulling him up by his shoulders. I crossed my legs on his hips and hugged him tight. I could smell his toothpaste, his last cigarette. "I'm going to miss you, too. Very very much. Come back to me."

"I will." He put a light kiss on my temple, then another under my ear, and a last on the corner of my mouth. He slipped my shirt off now, leaving me naked across from him. He kissed his way slowly to my breast, his face intent, his eyes narrowed. I could tell he was trying to memorize every part of this moment. So was I. I would cling to it in the days to come.

Our lovemaking was slow and sometimes awkward. I got a cramp in my foot; he squished my arm under him. We always adjusted quickly and never let it cool our ardour. We were used to each other's quirks, weaknesses, strengths.

We played. He blew raspberries on my belly making me laugh and I tickled his feet with my toes.

Finally, exhausted, he spooned up behind me and breathed my hair in. I covered the hand on the bottom half of my breast and closed my eyes, relishing the warmth, the care, the love that was spread between us.

The sun was just peeking through the window when he woke me with a kiss. He wore only his jeans, the worn ones with a hole in the pocket. I kept warning him that I was going to use them for rags. He hid them until the time came.

"I have to go. They'll be here to pick me up any minute. But I had to say goodbye." He leaned over me and puts his lips to mine. I sat up on my elbows, wanting to pull him back into bed, but knowing he waited so long, just so I couldn't.

"Two weeks," he murmured pulling away. "I'll get that rig up and be back before you know it."


I hate when work calls him away. I hate sitting here, being a downer. I have been all day. The girls at work don't even ask anymore; they know the routine. A pair of kids walk by, probably high school. They chuckle together and I catch snips of their banter, making me snort. I look up and see my smile in the building. I remember being a kid, when we both worked hard because we had nothing, and he never left town. Now the work is simpler, the money easier, but he is far away.

I turn my back on myself facing the bench. I step onto the small ledge and lean out, hanging onto the rail. I look down at the ground. I pretend this is the edge of the cliff and he's going to catch me when I fall.

My phone rings and I slip off my perch, nearly falling. I scramble for my phone. A new text message: Just got in. Miss U already.

I type my reply: 13 days. you.

Sleep, dream of me. I'll be thinking of u.

I head home, trying not to think of the empty bed that waits for me. On our kitchen table is a post-it I don't remember noticing this morning. "Bathroom," it reads. Weird. I go into the bathroom and notice another post-it on the top door of the vanity. It holds his shaving supplies, so I never go in there. "Open me."

There is a velvet box. What the hell? He got me jewelery and isn't here to give it to me? Why not wait till he gets back? I pull it down and open it. Another piece of paper is wedged in the place of the ring. I pull it out smirking a little.

I know you hate having stuff sprung on you. So think about it. I'll do this right when I get home. Two weeks to think about the rest of our lives. I know how I want to spend them. Do you? I love you so much.

I pull out my phone and send a longer message: You are silly. I know exactly how I want to spend the rest of my life. Now get back here and share it with me!

It's a few minutes before I get his reply. It's not a message but a photo. It's the ring, on his pinkie. The message is: I'll take it off for work, promise. :-)

"Goofball," I murmur aloud. It's a very pretty ring. Not too ornate, just my style. I type again: I'd hope not, what would the guys say?

What they're saying now, to get home to my girl.

I didn't know how to answer that. He didn't let me: 12 days 22 hours.

I smile, curling up in our bed and snapping a quick picture of me hugging his pillow.

As soon as I can.

I know.

A/N I've been spending the past 10 days away from the love of my life (who I have already married ;) so this sprung to mind.