First Sunday

He smelled the same, a mixture of his natural scent and Axe body spray. My mind was flooded with memories of lying next to him in bed, feeling safe and secure. I wanted to reach out and wrap my arms around his waste. Instead I took a step away from him into the corner of the kitchen. My mind returning to the task at hand – figuring out how I ruined a batch of Nestle Toll House Cookies. Too much butter we both concluded. We chatted casually about the disgusting day old Chinese meal he had recently purchased and was eating in my kitchen. Suddenly, his blue eyes clouded over with sadness and remorse. It was just like in a book, his emotions were clearly written on his face.

“I didn’t know I had…”
“I know, you didn’t, I know you are careful about those things. It’s okay.” I quickly responded trying to end the conversation for fear my emotions would get the better of me.
“It’s not okay…” The rest of the conversation is faded in my memory, but it was a beginning. The beginning of the conversation that we need to have.

Later I found myself curled up next to him on the futon, his thigh propping up my pillow. My body was so tired; eyes could barely stay open as the Cylons destroyed the 12 colonies. He arm came around my back and rest on my arm. Touch. The touch I had been craving for months. Nothing inappropriate. We parted ways as the night grew later, both of us tired, both of us busy; but there was the promise of spending time together the following week. He opened his arms for a goodbye hug, standing on tip toes I reached around his shoulders. Strong arms wrapped around my waist as he lifted me from the ground. I hid my face on his shoulder, afraid buried emotions would start to seep through. As I closed the door of my apartment behind him, I was already looking forward to the next Sunday.