Back to the city. Year starting again.
I feel content.
Drove by my house I shared with my husband and I just smiled…
‘It’s really worrying that you wearing lipstick’ he said while I was explaining to him that I had called the psychiatrists and I would help him go to therapy if he needed.
‘Can we have sex one more time? Just one more time?’ he pleaded and picked me up and put me on the kitchen counter. I pulled him closer and stared deeply into his eyes. Those green eyes I made love to, the eyes that held my heart and a thousand memories. My future was in those eyes. They now looked blank. He hadn’t slept in days since I left, he hadn’t eaten. He was jumpy and agitated and anxious.
We stared into each others eyes and started kissing slowly and then more passionately. Our eyes were closed, he was kissing my neck sending shivers down my spine. I wanted to get lost in him, get lost in us and what we were, but it was gone. It was lost. It was no longer there.
I pulled away.
‘One last time’ and he leaned down kissing my stomach and lowering into me.
‘Come on, I have to go’ I said pulling him up and sliding past him as I jumped off the kitchen counter.
‘Come on, please eat this’ I’d warmed a croissant and put cheese and jam on it for him, his favourite.
I had to leave, I couldn’t stay.
We hugged good bye, I got into my car and I redid my lipstick while he was looking at me from the bay windows in the spare room where I had spent my last night sleeping in our house.