It was the closest he would ever get to saying he loved me because those words would bind me, and he was setting me free—free to live out my life, my dreams, my aspirations. He wanted me to find my place in the sun instead of living in the shadow of his life. But in that moment, I didn’t want to be set free. I wanted him to ask me to stay. I wanted him to demand it, command it, to leave me with no choice. But he just held me with his eyes, and I learned the power of being all tied up, without ropes or chains.
“I want a clean break.” My voice cracked when I said it, but I meant it. “I don’t want to spend my days living for phone calls and texts. I don’t want to make do with your voice when what I really want is your arms around me. I don’t want eyes that can’t meet and feet that can’t touch. I think that would kill me.”
“I know. You’re my all or nothing girl. You’re grand and special, and so beautiful that my heart aches every time I look at you. I don’t want you to settle for anything less. But I don’t want to know when you’re out with some other guy—someone you meet in a quaint little coffee shop, someone you have brunch with on Sunday mornings, someone who can hold you and love you and fall asleep beside you. I think that would kill me.” A ragged breath escaped his lips as he claimed my mouth. He kissed me hard and hungry, like he wanted me to carry the taste of him forever.
“Jack,” I said it for no reason, except that it felt right. His name felt like it belonged in my mouth, like it had always belonged.
“I want you naked in the moonlight.” He tugged my dress, so it fell in a puddle around my feet. The rest of our clothes came off in a flurry, fingertips like matches, setting skin on fire.
We made love on a blanket by the stream, slow and gentle, rough and hard, riding the currents of our emotions like waves crashing on the shore. There were flashes of bright sensation—the look in Jack’s eyes when he slid inside me, his hands molding my curves, the midnight sky above us, trees swaying around us, the first moan escaping my lips, muscles and tendons dancing to a lover’s tango, the silver glow of constellations on our skin, the rush of the waterfall, Jack’s harsh, uneven breath, our bodies caught between the intoxication of climax and wanting to extend a moment we never wanted to end. My head rocked back as all the stars in the sky condensed to a single point. Jack stifled my cry with his lips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he hurtled over the edge of pleasure.
We weren’t ready to let go so we remained locked in the aftermath of passion. When our hearts calmed and our breaths settled, he smoothed the hair off my forehead and kissed my face. I traced the groove in the hollow of his back. His skin tasted sweet against my fingertips, like the last bits of sugar at the bottom of a cup of coffee. I wanted to savor it. I wanted to drain every last drop and make it a part of me forever.
“What are you doing?” I asked, as he got up and covered me with another blanket from the car. He was kneeling on the ground, fussing around, when all I wanted was for him to come back to me.
“Covering your feet.” He cupped my heel and ran his finger down my sole until my toes wiggled. “You have traitorous feet. Tomorrow, they’ll carry you away from me, but tonight they’re mine.” He kissed the tops of my feet softly. “Do they know the way back, Rodel? Do they know that if they ever walk these fields again, they belong to me? Because Iwillclaim them. Make no mistake about that.”
“And I claim you.” I pulled him to me and looped my arms around his neck. “If you’re ever in England. And not just your feet. I claim all of you. This, and this, and this, and this.” I took inventory of his firm, bronzed body. It would have been funny if we weren’t both aching inside.
“I think you missed a spot.” He rolled over onto his back and took me with him. “This right here.” He placed my hand over his heart.
“Yes. This right here.” I lay my head on my favorite spot and closed my eyes.
A chorus of frogs croaked around us, the waterfall cascaded over moss-slicked rocks, but all I heard that last night in Africa, as stars hung suspended above us, was the drumbeat of his heart.Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack.
THE SKY WASlow and somber the next morning, as we drove to the airport, the squeak of wipers un-blurring the world every now and then. A fine drizzle fell around us as we turned in to the drop-off area.
There are moments that remain frozen in time—every sound, every color, every breath, crystallized into vivid shards of memory. Sitting in the idling car with Jack, outside the departures terminal, was one of them. Suitcases clattered over concrete slabs. The smell of diesel hung heavy in the air. Backpackers got off shuttle buses with colorful decals stuck to their luggage.
I conquered Mount Kilimanjaro
Kili—19,340 feet
A sea of faces moved through the doors, under the bright yellow letters of the departures building.
Jack and I watched silently. It was easier to focus on something outside of us. All the combinations, of all the letters, could not form a single word for what we wanted to say. We were circles and spirals and heart beats, rolled up into a glorious mess. We were a bundle of memories parked briefly in the drop-off zone.
“Don’t come inside.” I took my bag from Jack when we stepped out. “Please.” My eyes pleaded with him. “I never learned to cry gracefully, like they do in the movies—with perfect, luminous tears rolling down my cheeks. I look like a withered crabapple when I cry.”
“Rodel.” He crushed me to him, my name falling from his lips in a hoarse whisper. Another car slid into the spot behind us, its hazard lights flashing rhythmically like the ticking of a clock.
Jack’s arms tightened around me. “It’s like a piece of me is being ripped away again. First Lily, now you. And yet . . .” His voice softened as he gazed me. “I wouldn’t change a single thing. I would do it over and over again.”
We said goodbye in the language of ghosts, with unspoken words and haunted longings, oblivious to everything and everyone around us.
“Kiss me hard, then let me go,” I said, when the touch of his hand became suddenly unbearable in its tenderness.
I felt the movement of his breath before our lips touched. My heart throbbed at the sweet, savage sensation of his mouth. It was like running without air—breathless and beautiful. I clung to him for a soul-bursting moment, before wrenching myself away and stumbling toward the building. I paused for a beat as the sliding doors opened.
Turn around, Rodel, a part of me screamed.
Don’t look back,the other part countered.
I turned. Because I couldn’t help it. Because Jack honked.
He was sitting in the car, his palm splayed against the window in a frozen goodbye. Our eyes met through the droplets of water that clung to the glass like little pearls of silver. I retraced my steps, wheeling my bag behind me until I was standing beside his car. Then I lifted my hand and placed my fingers against his. The glass was wet and cold between us, but something warm and powerful hummed in my veins. When I removed my hand, my palm print was etched on the damp window, just like Lily’s had been. As our gazes locked, I could feel the connection throbbing between Jack and me through that window. And it was enough. To know, and to have known.
I smiled.
