Is There All There Is To Love

Nothing’s wrong he said. He loosened his tie and just sat there on the couch looking all sad.  His eyes looked sad, his chest heaved as he took a deep breath and his hands couldn't still themselves. They were looking for something to hold on to or may be someone.  I wondered what was wrong with him. Why was he so forlorn or distracted? I put up my best smile and went up to him and sat next to him. I held his twitching hands and stopped them from fiddling around. I wanted his fickle heart to rest, rest on my shoulders and just forget the world.

He looked up at me and kissed me. He kissed me hard. The familiar rush of his lips, his tongue and his hands on my body brought back memories. Memories of when we had just started going out together.  The inferno of passion as if finally finding its way back, he lifted me into his arms and I was practically sitting in his lap.  

I didn’t care about whatever it was that was bothering him, for I loved the man trying to fumble with my blouse buttons. His hurried advances assured me that all will be right and past months which we had spent not talking to each other let alone make love will be a part of the past, all forgotten.

Here he was trying his best to kiss me and make me forget what I was thinking and believe me for a while I did. Oh how I did!

My man had come back to me, he had finally come back home.  We made love twice. Once hurriedly and once with all the leisure that you can take making love.  He was trying too hard I feel, to make up for lost time may be.  The kisses were so deep, touching my soul that I wanted to cry out loud. Cry and complain and ask him, that where was he all this time.  We were practically strangers sharing the same bed every night. Talking in grunts and ignoring each other as if everything around was more important than each other.

But mulling over the past was something I didn’t want to do.  I just wanted to cherish this moment.  This moment when I lay on his chest with smile on my lips, tears threatening to glide down my cheek any time and a heart so light.

He breathing heavily again, ready to go again I wondered.  His moves in the bedroom were not alien to me.  After you have had a man so often for years and years you know how he moves between the sheets after all, but going again was something really did come as a surprise.

He moved me aside, got up and headed towards where his clothes lay strewn and with sad eyes told me he wanted to talk to me.  That never sounds good. After he was dressed and I still covering my modestly under the sheets, we sat down face to face to have the conversation which I will remember my entire life.

I am leaving you, he said.  He had met someone and had fallen for her.  She was the love of his life he said. Then whose love was I, I wanted to ask him.  Did I let the love my life pass by because I was too busy looking after you and being in love with you, I wanted to scream out.  But he kept on talking when words had no meaning.  I kept on listening to the man who had taken away my youth and left me with crow’s feet. I couldn’t take it anymore; I just wanted him to stop talking, anyway. I just couldn’t hear about that other woman when here I was undressed, glowing from the lovemaking and heartbroken at the same time. The table next to me had a glass of water and a pair of scissors I had used to mend one of his shirt buttons. I picked up the glass and had some water, he still continued and then I picked up the scissors.