75th Street Exit.
Take a left, then a right past the McDonald's, 2 blocks down, another right, 3 blocks and a right. Second floor, door on the right.
Crazy how many right turns there are for something that was anything but.
But tonight, that wasn't my exit. Not anymore. So I drive a few more miles to new friends, new hangouts, new conversations. But he lingers there, in the back of my mind.
Through the door, his room is in the back. A Boy's Life, 311, hours of conversation, the first time we made love. Outside on the balcony, smoking a cigarette, his arms wrapped around me.
I never felt so safe.
"Can we freeze this moment, Michelle? This perfect moment?"
I guess I did.
I wish we had at least fought when it was over. The ending was too quiet, too calm. It was the complete opposite of our beginning. But I guess that's how it's supposed to be: opposite. A clear line now drawn between what was and what is no more.
I fell sleep in his arms and woke up hours later to him staring at me.
"You're so beautiful. You know that right?"
He brushes my hair away from my face and kisses my eyes . . . .
"Not just here"
He runs his hands over my cheeks.
"Or here"
He lays his hand on my chest, the pulse in his fingertips matching the beating of my heart.
"But here. Inside. You are so beautiful. Inside. And you love me. Someone as beautiful as you loves me"
I hold onto those memories now to remember that I was loved. Maybe that's not true, maybe he didn't. But in my memories, even for brief moments, I was loved exactly the way I needed to be.
The 75th Street Exit. Just another point on a destination. But for me, a heart full of memories of a time when I let myself free fall into one of the most beautiful times of my life.
