Monday, 2 April 2012

We Start Making Love That Night

I keep knocking, a bit sleepy and the cold black air is stinging as I wrap whatever I have on my body, not opening the luggage. Jack didn’t open until for quite a while and when he did we both didn’t say anything, departing right before Jamie’s wedding, myself saying that Hince would go for me.

Kate announced she’s pregnant yesterday and I just took a plan not even bothering to continue anything, Jamie knew. After a while he called asking me not to go for Jack, saying that he loved me but not as a wife, so I just hung up again, used to not touching the eyeliner, like Katie didn’t.

“What?” Jack looks stressed and he’s in a plain sweater. After a while he gives me some jacket and we go inside under all the dim lights and shadows of both marriage and children lingering.

“I don’t love you.” And my body is shaking and I am in the corridor.

“I know. Neither.” And we both smile for a bit, maybe both not knowing what we believe but most likely we just don’t know which out of all the tastes we feel for everyone mean, we’ve lost all the name tags. He makes us tea, a humming talk show in the background as he says Karen just left and had been watching it.

He runs his hands through my hair, his hand now on my cheek, stroking it as I slowly start crying and he doesn’t move closer and I really don’t want him to. I look at Jack and in the end he makes us dinner, I keep quiet about the meat but he doesn’t give me any in the end.

We end up eating and I fall asleep on the couch watching something I cannot recall, thinking that he were to kiss me and that we board a train like in a Journey To The Past and maybe there was a war going to rise and I’m old again, it felt like it, watching Jack without anyone concrete just shadows, but in this case divorce rather than a distant life.

And I just kept watching instead of us talking wherever.

Love is lost for a word.

And we feel to old to try when I wake up, Jack’s not here, instead he walks in smoking the cigarettes he found, mine, in the kitchen and lightening them, looking down on the floor.

He looks at me.

We both break inside.

“I’m always the lover, aren’t I?” Jack just nods then shakes his head, walking closer towards me and starts kissing my neck, raising my head above our heads like the night and it falls as he reaches my lips.

Jack isn’t married, but maybe will be.

Next morning we go out, we end up having sex in the night after crawling into the bed, three am, ironic for White or maybe all the clocks show that with all the photos of his women scattered and how I just had him inside, too loud, trying to mute the man I’ve trusted and I tell Jack in the morning how he said we would get married, my hair in the plate that he washes it later.

Jack showers with me, holding me all the time, his shoulders becoming my house of residence but we still don’t say anything to each other.

We make it to sleep another time and I recall our arms touching each other and in the morning we do take a train, somewhere just to avoid calls and the life we go back to once we’re done.

I keep staring at him in the train and he stares back, we don’t say anything until we reach the little shop, strolling in, fingers touching, cutting all long loose threads we don’t even see anymore to be willing to choose our own future and our own love.

We start making love that night.


The title was chosen for the circle composition really and Journey To The Past is an amazing novella actually.

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you, the idea came to me when I got the request and the train came to me using the overground train.


43 cigars we smoke on the way back

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