It’s four o’clock and the evening’s splendor is at the mercy of the showers of rain. I’m on my fourth cup of coffee. You sit beside me on the couch, rub your hands together and ask “should I bring the whole kettle right here?”
“You have drank half of it already and I know you’ll ask for a refill when you’re done with this.”
“I am not your waiter.”
“I’ll get it myself, do not worry about it.” You let out a laugh. How easy it is for you to unleash these easy laughs you store within you. I shrug my shoulders but wink at you. You look away, and lean back into the couch…and I know it’s coming, because when you open up, it’s preceded by a void of silence.
“You love me like a memory.”
I put the cup of coffee back on the table and stretch out to lay my head on your lap. It is still raining outside and when your fingers brush my cheek, I inhale the residue of cigarette smoke. I take to coffee and you take to cigarettes…sometimes, whisky.
“Have you tried Chivas?”
“The Scotch-Whisky? Yes, why?”
“I saw it on a billboard today while making my way to town. I love the shape of the bottle, it is rather feminine, a bit curvy and stocky at some point, but definitely curvy.”
“You saw a bottle of whisky on a billboard and you loved the shape of it because it’s curvy?”
I look at you and smile and you laugh…this time, it’s a blissful laugh, the kind that says “What am I going to do with this girl?” So, we sit and you take in short breaths, as though inhaling and exhaling would stop your heart from asking me questions that you know I will never answer.
I know not if this is love, if the image of your smile in my head makes me smile, if the sound of your voice at any time of the day makes me anxious. I know one thing though, that I live for these moments of silence between us, where you create a void to express your feelings and how I glide over those voids by changing the subject and you let me.
“You love this, don’t try to deny it. You should move in with me.” I shake my head and sit up to drink my coffee. You get off the couch and walk to the kitchen leaving me to the sound of the rain…once peaceful, now…
And when you come back, you lean on the kitchen door, run your fingers through your hair and ask “why are you afraid of me?”
This time…I recline.