Girl

Graphic content. Reader discretion advised. 

I met her for the first time at a party, that I no longer remember who had thrown.

I saw her from across the floor through a crowd of people, wearing the kind of red that makes it my favorite color. Bold, vibrant. Inviting. My trailing eye finally found caught hers. I smiled. And she smiled back.

We met again, a few weeks later, this time at a house party. She wore blue, the midnight blue, and I remember being a little bit more sober. She recognized me from the other day and came over to say Hi. Anupriya, she said, pushing back long dark hair. I laughed and asked if I should call her Anu or Priya. She replied coyly that I can call her Girl. We started to talk, and it felt.. different. It was easy to flirt with her. Between many vodka shots, and countless Dunhill Reds drags, we spoke of Pink Floyd and dogs and death. Not too much of a talker, I let her speak, her words resonating with my silent thoughts.

The third time we met was in an empty parking lot. That same day, while that house party was still not quite done. I slipped into my car, and then watched as she walked across the almost-empty parking lot, her heels making loud clicking sounds. Somewhere in the distance a single light flickered, one faulty, one odd man out of the perfect rest. I felt like that light, but here I was, with a girl walking towards me, like she was reaching out to fix me. She slid easily into the car, shutting the door behind her, and for a moment, she just looked at me. Half curious, half eager. Then that moment passed, and we were kissing. She tasted like vodka, which we had had one too many, indeed. My urgent hands found the zipper on that blue dress. The bra came off and next her wet panties, and then there I was, claiming her sweet taste, with my tongue. I could feel the mist settling on the window, the heat in that moment, making my insides ache like they had never ached before. She moaned and I could feel the world slip away. Into sweet obviation.

'Shh', she held up a finger to her lips, a while later. 'Come up in a while, and they will never notice we were gone.' I nodded and did as I was told. I followed her back into the party, and watched her the rest of the night, keeping my distance, aching for the time when she would be mine again. Her boyfriend would occasionally drape his arm around her shoulders, but she looked through him like he wasn't there. I noticed, maybe he didn't. She would look across the room sometimes, holding my gaze and staring at me with fire in her eyes, but I knew none could hear the secrets out loud.

We continued to meet, over the next few months. She was like an empty glass, pretty and delicate on the outside, aching to be filled on the inside. Always bringing that same fire along with her, always wanting more. And all I had to give her was me, every single inch of me. We spent hours together, naked, under the sheets, letting the world drone on outside my window. Tracing patterns over bare skin, sometimes with fingers and sometimes with tongues. Sometimes happy patterns, ending in giggles and laughter. Sometimes heart breaking ones, ending in silence and a tear or two. It was like we had our own time capsule, frozen in the moment, when seconds stretched to minutes and minutes to hours.

She never stayed. I never asked her why. When all the dreaming and lying was done, she would pick up her dress, fix her hair, wipe off the smeared lipstick, put on her heels, and leave. Without looking back, without saying bye. I did not ask her to stay, because I knew she would be back. I guess I never expected her to leave me.

The last time I saw her, she seemed distant. She sat holding a sheet to her naked body. I looked at her, and she looked out at the city. Revealing nothing, as always. I drew back a stray curl from her cheek, and asked her to stay. Leave the rest of her world, and stay back. With me. She looked at me, catching my finger in her hand, with that same look from that first time in the car. Curious, eager. Maybe just a sliver of sad. Before I could ask, she was kissing me. That day, she left as I slept in my bed. And when I woke up, I knew she was gone. For good.

It has been more than a year since I saw her last. I do not know where she is, or how she is. I did not try to look for her. I do not know if she thinks about me, about how life would have unfurled had she stayed. I walk around with an ache that has dulled this past year. Sometimes, I manage to convince myself it is not even there. Sometimes, it is almost like I have managed to erase all those patterns I made on her skin from my memory.

My mother called today. She demanded to know why I haven't replied to any of her numerous emails. She sounded a little too worried this time. I sat at my desk, and opened up an inbox full of mails. She asks in her last email if I had a breakup, if I was sad? She asks me to look at a single photograph attached. A doctor. I looked outside my window for a long time, and then I replied.

I will come home next week. I've quit my job and I want to settle down now. I like the doctor. Yes mom, I will marry him.

~Annie.
P.S: I am not too fond of homophobes, so if you are one, please leave while I ask nicely.
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