I walked out of my parent’s house and saw her standing there, cute, smiling. She gave me a big hug, missing hug, loving hug. We walked to the end of the driveway, lighting up a smoke. We hadn’t seen each other in three years. We hadn’t gone on something like this in seven. Back then, she was the wild one. Pot, drinking, barely sober, but a lot of fun. I was straight laced. The square. That guy. She loved me though. A decade’s worth of feelings. She had two kids now. A history. A guy she hated. Complications.
My life has stabilized. The Zen, as I call it. The way of keeping it sane. It came across during the night. I was cocky, sexual, aggressive. I made my moves. I pushed. But, as if all my challenges are to come before it gets easy, she resisted. I always loved her eyes. They said so much. I kept my eyes on her all night. We talked a lot. Her about her guy. She asked about my divorce. We talked about love and sex and work and life.
We were in a bar that used to be a strip club, sitting on a couch, the only customers there. My arm around her, she leaning into me. This wasn’t The Dangler. This wasn’t Maria. This wasn’t Seasons. This was my first girlfriend. My first. Those feelings are there. As we were leaving, I pulled her in, using my go-to line, “Come here,”
“No, I can’t.”
“I would feel guilty.”
“You said you don’t even consider yourself together with him.”
“Its the kids. I’d look at them and feel guilty. They go through a lot.”
We had a smoke on the patio afterward. The tension was thick and electric. It was awkward. Her eyes said it all.
Pizza. A walk down to the tourist area. Clifton Hill. We went on the Niagara SkyWheel. She said one of her guys had said there was a stipulation. They had to finish before the ride was over. I laughed, “Its only a condition with me, though eight minutes is too short.”
She leaned into me, showing her neck as we watched the Falls and the city from three hundred feet up. I kissed her cheek and her hair and her neck. I could smell the scents from a decade ago. I would push through it, but I cared.
We drank some more. A bar on the hill. A bar near my parent’s place. I touched her hair, her back. Kino for the win. Before we got in the car, I moved in, straight on, she turned her head. “I just wanted a peck,”
“Sure,” she said.
Soon after I got home, she was on Facebook. We talked. I told her what she missed. The fun. The lack of misery. A moment to remember when things go to shit. She knew. I told her when things get uncomplicated, I’ll have her. She knew.
I laid alone in my old bed. Neutral. Quiet. It was a good night.