A room with a view
a love story
We booked a room with a view.
It looked beautiful on the front cover of the Scene & Heard Salutatory Issue and we wanted to make it special. After all we were going to meet after twenty four years for a whole twenty four hours. For the first time.
Well… technically no, second actually.
So let’s talk about the first time, first.
We were colleagues. Both, with our first jobs. He, the in-house casanova, who everybody swooned over. Me, the shy people-pleaser, who everybody walked over. The chances of us getting together were as slim as size 0. But as they say, opposites attract. And so did he and I.
It happened in another city. Over an annual conference that we were nominated to attend. I think, that had a lot to do with us actually having a conversation. He had no choice. And I had nothing to lose. True to his nature, he took his chance on me. True to mine, I let him.
A casual drink before dinner led to much more. Chemistry was established over office banter and biology was proven as I crossed my legs and he leaned closer. The rest as you can imagine went down in the books of history as the most magical night ever. Picture perfect. He made the best vision of love in the raw. Eyes closed, one leg wrapped over mine, his hair carelessly fell on his forehead, as he gently purred in his sleep. I softly ran my fingers through his hair, swept them back. Kissed him on his forehead and smiled to myself. The most eligible bachelor was lying in my arms. It couldn’t have gotten better than this.
I felt beautiful.
“Do you remember what happened?” I timidly asked the next morning. “Not quite,” he casually replied. I think I heard the sound of a heart break then. Just pretended it wasn’t mine. Overnight beauty turned to beast, as eternity made peace with a hushed one night. Lust, it stayed back, naked, caught in the light. Whilst love walked away, unaware, out of sight.
Everything after that, was easy-breezy. As if nothing had happened. The rest of the conference and the flight back home. I just took a feeling that was real and made it look like no big deal. Life went on.
That was it. The first meeting.
Cut to scene two.
Twenty years later. By then, technology had brought all of us closer. We were living in one big virtual world. It was a usual Wednesday morning when Facebook pinged with a friend request. It was his. My heart skipped a beat. Was it him? The same him? Really? Can it be? Should I accept? “Of course not,” I said to myself aloud, putting my spectacles wisely over my head. “Have you forgotten the last time? He must be just out for another good time. It is best to let it rest, lest they stir up skeletons from the shadows.”
But who listens to the head when the heart beats out so loud.
I knew then, that all the love we could’ve shared, but didn’t, I had held it in. It still survived.
I accepted. Two decades later, we were friends again.
A lot changes with the windmills of time. And so had we. I was no longer the shy people pleaser. I had outgrown my shell. Had a voice of my own. He was no more a casanova. Life had matured him. He took the time to listen.
Once again, we made the perfect combination.
And so we talked. Long distance. (I had moved countries for better prospects and so had he.) Early mornings, late afternoons, middle of the nights. We spent hours on the phone sharing many words. We talked about everything from back then, to date. I told him how I felt about him after that night, he earnestly apologized for his nonchalance. “Forget about it,” I sighed and let go that day even though I had forgiven him long ago.
Before we knew it, we were in a relationship. Our words became more and more honest by the day. Genuine, they spoke from the heart, did not lie. There were times when we talked non-stop and times when we sat in comfortable silence. Until we realized, our words belonged together. And so did we. Across continents, our words crossed boundaries, got fearlessly bold. They made love, those uninhibited intimate words. There was an urgency in our words then — we wanted… needed to meet.
And so we decided we should. In the same city we first met.
History was being repeated in perfect serendipity. Only this time there was no conference, it was just him and me.
Three days off from a busy work schedule was all we got. Travel would cost us days but we wanted to meet nowhere else. A day to get there. A day to return. One day in between. That’s all we had. We didn’t care. We’d make the most of it.
We booked a room with a view.
I flew down and reached first. He was arriving an hour later. That had to have been the longest hour of my life.
Have you ever waited on the other side of the door?
For years… full of tears, for familiar footsteps, the sound of heartbeats, recognizable across closed doors. His scent of cool waters, seeping through the door, for that distinct knock from ions before.Have you ever waited on the other side of the door?
After years… full of tears, for her to open the door. Same old anklets tinkling, as her hurried feet rush to the door. The smell of Trésor, her warmth flooding the floor. Waiting arms from long ago, that smile behind the door.
At first we were edgy, like a couplet out of rhyme. Unprepared and unrehearsed, we inched closer, unable to resist the electricity in the air. Until a warm embrace found us, reminiscing of a time gone by.
His fingers strummed my ribs, I purred a staccato of umm’s, like pearls on a necklace, one precious moment at a time. Soon it smelled all too familiar, I wore the same perfume, he the same eau de homme. Drawn by scent, familiar prey from there on, it all came back. The chase, the hunt and the final confront. Layer by layer, the urgent shedding, the act of devouring, the wild deflowering, the ultimate souring, a heady recalling — of the first time, after a long time ago.
I ran my fingers through his hair as he slept in my arms that night. He opened his eyes, half asleep, pulled me closer and kissed me on my forehead, just like I once did.
A new dawn never looked as promising as this.
We booked a room with a view. Little knowing that we would never get to see it. It would remain forever etched in our memory just like everything else about that one day. For we were too busy painting love behind closed doors. A beautiful sketch of moments in our hearts sealed with a brush of fate.
Some views look good on both sides of the door.
Inspired by this prompt from the Goat and that image by Thomas Schaller.
© 2018, T. Kagalwalla. All Rights Reserved.
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