This Will Be The Last Time.

Black-out curtains were drawn, the dilapidated motel room was submerged in an inky-darkness that incubated the two of us in the here and now. The day felt staged off, for the moment, and the darkness comforted me. To the far side of the room, an antagonizing fluorescent bulb located just above the vanity-sink was broadcasting an unpleasant shade of artificial light. On occasion the bulb would flicker, producing a dull ache in the back of my head but I was in too good of spirits to mind.
I watched JR’s reflection in the mirror as he got dressed for work. It was a quarter to nine on a Tuesday morning and we’d spent the past two hours in bed making love. He doesn’t know it yet, but this will be the last time.
I sat on my knees in the center of the queen-size bed, legs tucked beneath me, ass rested on the heels of my arched bare-feet. A mess of disheveled sheets was strewn all about my body as I stared hard at the image of the two of us in the mirror. We looked good together. We had always looked so good together. Through the glass, my reflection registered just behind JR’s as he stood to get dressed. My long blonde hair hung loose, tangled from the sex. My chest and neck were a bright reddish color that stood in stark contrast against the otherwise fair, sun-kissed complexion of my skin— a lingering flush from my last orgasm. I was wearing a worn-out, oversized tan sweatshirt that had once belonged to Carolyn, and nothing else. The sweatshirt, slightly torn around the collar, fell off my right shoulder exposing the thin-pointed outline of a new tattoo. The tattoo was recent enough that I was not yet accustomed to seeing it embedded in my skin and its appearance on my body, when revealed, persisted to startled me: the ace of swords; roses wrapped around the sharp blade of a knife. Roses for Carolyn.
My chest tightened at the thought of her. I took a deep breath as I waited for the all too familiar feeling to pass. After a few minutes, my focus floated away from memories of Carol and back to the present, to JR. He walked the length of the room to retrieve his suit. The sharp pang of recollection washed over me as I observed him. Earlier that morning, at the break of dawn, when JR had first arrived to my room at the Red Lion Motel I opened the door to the sound of his soft, almost inaudible knock. He descended into the room and onto me, our eyes married together for the moment. There was, of course, the elation I always experienced in his presence, like the feeling when a drug first takes hold. The softness of his lips as we kissed, the taste of coffee on his tongue. Then, abruptly, JR pulled back, walking away from me while he removed his blazer.
“I love your perfume, you know how much I love it, Samantha. But I can’t have my clothes smelling like you.”
He shrugged sheepishly at me from across the room as he undressed by the bathroom, ensuring through the distance that he’d avoid any lingering evidence of my scent as he carefully placed each item of clothing on individual hangers that he suspended from a metal bar just to the right of the motel sink.
JR wasn’t wrong to assume I’d be so understanding. I wanted nothing more than for him to be happy. Over the years my affection for JR had grown from something like youthful obsession to a deeply-profound, steadfast and earnest love. Yet, to pretend it could continue was foolish and, in light of all that had transpired the past couple weeks, I could no longer justify our affair.
It was with this undeniable fact in mind that I studied JR. I watched with such intensity, near methodical observational precision, so that I would remember every moment that transpired between the two of us like a photograph I would keep forever precious in my memory.
JR was, still, very handsome to me. Though, admittedly, his present allure was markedly different than that which had first attracted me to him. JR excluded a polished, easy-confidence now. It gave me great pleasure to see him at this moment, all grown-up. JR was, by now, well established in his career; secure and financially stable. He could afford nice things and his appearance reflected it. JR’s success affirmed something in me that had always protested against the cries from my friends, that he was bad news; a waste of my time.
I was deep in thought about the past as I watched JR get dressed. His image in the mirror blurred together all my memories like a lenticular photograph. I could see him here and now, but I could see, too, a glimmer of his youthful arrogance.
JR put on his navy blue slacks and a white cotton v-neck undershirt. His grey button down shirt was crisp, freshly pressed. As he pulled it over his shoulders, he smoothed the lines. Once he’d finished buttoning the shirt, he tucked it into his pants and re-clasped the buckle. I crawled to the edge of the bed and asked him to turn to me, taking the material of his blue-striped tie in my hands to thread the knot. Our eyes remained locked together, the intensity of the moment was palpable, but I never stopped smiling. When I was finished, I patted his shoulders. As he loosened the knot for comfort, he leaned down to kiss me affectionately on my forehead. Turning back to the mirror, he peered at his reflection as he adjusted the frames of his thin wire-rimmed glasses.
At that moment I could see JR through the lens of Universal Time. He was all the things he’d been before and all the things he’s yet to become.
“You okay, Sam? You seem, well, quiet.”
JR spoke to the mirror as he glanced, in reflection, back towards me. I grinned at him and nodded.
“What are you smiling about, Samantha?”
I just shrugged, cocking my head to the side. Now that it was over, I wasn’t sure what there was left to say. But I felt at peace; good now that I knew it was finally over. The chains were broken and I felt free.
“You have been in an astonishingly good mood these past couple days,” JR said next.
“I’ve really enjoyed myself, this trip. This has been a really good trip.”
“I’m glad.” he said to me, but he didn’t ask why.
JR turned so he was looking directly at me, his body rested against the secretary-desk that abutted the mirror. He picked up his camera holding it between the palms of his thick, dexterous hands. JR pressed the button to release the film and began to turn the rewind knob on his Voigtlander R3a. He turned the wheel around and around and around until the film was finished, safely returned to its canister. Then he popped open the back of the camera and removed the roll of Ilford 400. He held it up for a moment, in the space between his thumb and pointer finger, before handing it over to me.
“I think these will be good. You in the satin robe, on the edge of the bed, with your tits out. I’ll never forget that, even without a photograph to reference.” He said to me.
I blushed slightly, remembering. “Me too. I can’t wait to see them developed. I’ll show you. When they’re ready.”
I glanced down at my watch to see it was past 9 am now. I’d chosen the Red Lion because it was so close to his office at the State Department. This made it easier for JR to meet me both before and after work, without raising any suspicions. Even still, it will take him a solid 20 minutes to ride from the motel room to his office, park, and pass through security.
“You’ll be late.” I said to him, pointing towards the time. JR didn’t seem overly concerned, though he began to gather his things. As he put his motorcycle jacket on and zipped it tight, I asked him a question I’d been wanting to ask for years:
“Tell me what you think, of the photographs the others took.”
“In all honesty, I reviewed their work and concluded it was trash.”
“Would you like to know a secret?” I replied.
“I want to know all your secrets.”
“I figured it was only a matter of time before you saw the entire project. That’s the whole reason I did it, really. With the others, at least. I mean if I’m being honest. It became this experiment, I guess. I wanted to assign meaning to our intimacy. I wanted to document us, or it — who I was to you, anyway. How you see me. And I wanted to test it.” I said.
“So what conclusions did your experiment harvest?”
“It always just brought me back to you. With you, it was always different. All I ever wanted was to see if someone would, if anyone else could capture me the way you did. The way you do. It was like a metaphor or something.”
A metaphor for our love, I thought. But I didn’t say that part out loud.
We were both silent for a couple beats.
I took a deep breath before saying: “I wanted to see if anyone else could make me feel the way you do.”
“Did you?” he asked. “Find anyone else.”
“No.”
“So, I’m your favorite?” JR asked, his voice uncharacteristically sincere.
“You were always my favorite.”
He leaned down to kiss my cheek one last time before leaving. Then JR placed his right index finger against his lips before pressing that finger to the rosebud shape of my mouth.
“Do you love me?” I asked as I bit down on my lip, looking up at him through heavy lashes. The tone of my voice was playful, light on purpose. The way he liked it. To keep it light.
“I do.”
“Say it. Please.”
“I love you Samantha. I’ll never not love you.” JR said to me, and it’s just like I always imagined it would sound, at the end.
JR stood in the open door frame of the room with his body backlit by the late morning sun. In his right hand, he gripped the black carbon fiber of his motorcycle helmet. I looked down at the ground and watched as the shadows of our two forms danced together on the carpet, closing the gap in space between our bodies.
Standing there with the daylight coming through and washing out his tall silhouette, he said to me:
“Finish your book, Samantha. And don’t spoil it for me. I want to read how our story ends in print.”
With that, JR turned from me and the door slammed shut behind him. I moved over to the window parting the drapes so I could watch as he walked away, his shadow still visible for a few moments after he turned the corner onto Arlington Boulevard. And then, just like that, JR disappeared from my view altogether.
