It took eight alarm clocks to wake him. The first three he pushes off the bedside table, the next two he throws against the wall, and the last one he hits the snooze button three times before abiding. He sits up and rubs his face with his hands. The sound of his rough palms rubbing against his stubble reminds me of the peppermill and I reach for it on the other side of the kitchen counter. He stands up adjusting his thin white boxers and stumbles around the room. He grabs his jeans on the ground and pulls them up. The loose brown leather belt jingles and I hear a few people making their way to the screen door. He rubs his eyes a bit before one set of chipped nail polish bitten nails scratches an eyebrow, while the other reaches for a nearby white Hanes t-shirt. He slips into it and walks over to the dresser grabbing a cigarette. He lights a match and his cigarette, and throws the used match into an ashtray.
I plate the eggs and strips of crispy bacon first. Then I place the toast on top and set the plates down on the dining table. I’m wondering if I should wipe it down first. The once clean and reflective orange surface has streaks of dried liquids and spots of various sizes stained in a blood orange color. I decide to clean it after breakfast.
I turn to grab the forks and knives when he walks over and rests his hands on my hip. He pulls me in and and kisses me on the cheek before placing his cigarette in the ashtray on the kitchen counter. “Mornin’ babe.” He opens the wooden cupboard, grabs his usual black coffee mug and pours himself a cup of coffee. He holds it to his nose, breathes it in, and takes a sip. It’s hot but just the way he likes it. Black, no sugar, no cream. Untainted and powerful.
“Well, look at you, waking up all by yourself. It only took eight alarm clocks today.”
“Well, I figured since we have guests coming over I should make the extra effort.” By now he’s already finished half of the cup.
“Speaking of which…”
I walk through the bedroom doorway, down the hall and to the front door. As expected, our guests are right on time.
“Sorry for the wait, he just woke up.”
“Oh no, it’s fine! It’s a nice day. We thought we’d just enjoy the weather a bit, wait out here until you had some time to invite us in but hey, no rush.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not today. He’ll catch you cheating, you know? But I will take a rain check,” he says with a wink while turning back to catch his girlfriend glaring right back at him.
“Ouch. Don’t be like that darling, we were only kidding.”
“Yeah, and I’m the next Kate Moss,” she scoffs and we exchange a look of understanding.
Jasper and Karen have been married for two years now. Jasper’s British, six foot tall, thin and lanky but muscular. He has short black hair and piercing blue eyes. Today, he’s wearing bit of eyeliner and smoking a clove. The fragrance brings back old memories which fade as quickly as the smoke does. Karen is around five feet eight, with long brown hair that fall in waves, and kind hazelnut eyes. She’s not fat, just a little chubby. When she smiles you almost believe there’s no trouble left in the world.
“Hey, these bags are getting heavy. Are we really just going to bloody stand here all day?” Jasper asks while adjusting the brown grocery bags resting on his hip and struggling to keep the clove balanced between his skinny fingers.
“Sorry, just go to the back and put everything there.” Jasper and Karen reposition the bags against their bodies and make their way to the backyard.
I close the screen door and walk back to the kitchen. He’s already finished his breakfast and is sitting on the bed. One hand wrapped around the coffee mug, the other balancing his almost finished usual camel cigarette. I walk over to him and as I do, he takes another drag, inhaling deeply and releasing slowly. I catch a glimpse of the elephant tattoo on his right wrist and still wonder where he got it. I’ve asked him countless times and he’s always told me “Someday, maybe.” That someday hasn’t come around yet.
I’m standing right in front of him, and he sets the coffee mug down on the ground. His right hand takes the cigarette out of his mouth, and he pulls me closer to him. I look into his bright blue eyes and run my fingers through his dirty blond hair. He looks at me and smiles. I smile back.
He pulls me down and I sit on his lap, the distance between us diminishes. Our faces are closer now and I gently lay my hands on either side. We spend a moment in comfortable silence before engaging in a deep kiss. He wraps his arms around my waist and I wrap mine around his neck. As we kiss, I lose my strength and he gains it. He supports me and I let myself fall deeper into him.
Then, something wet touches our lips that wasn’t there before. It’s thick and heavy and it’s dyed areas of our skin and shirts a deep red.
“Shit,” he says while touching the area under his nose. He leans back and a strand of his hair gets caught in it. It soaks up the liquid and as it does it changes color, growing a dark, maddening red.
I reach for the tissue box and grab a few, padding gently along the area. Suddenly he grabs my wrist, forcefully stopping me. Sometimes I forget how strong he is because of his deceiving lean figure. I look shocked and he loosens his grip. He slips his hand into my hand, caressing it and kissing it. His lips are warm and soft, and his breath floats along my skin with appreciation.
“Babe, I think I forgot to set up the grill.”
“It’s okay, Jasper can figure it out.”
I kiss him and taste what I wish was me flowing through his body.
© estalement 2007
