We sit in a darkened hotel room in New York City, curtains drawn, Siobhan and I, and I’m in my undershirt and blue boxers.
We are waiting for the arrival of Ruth and FG from the UK.
Read moreI haven’t seen them since way back when, and I’m excited to see them again after all this time. When I hear their voices in the corridor I wonder whether to put on trousers because I have a slight erection from the anticipation.
It’s too late. The door swings opens and Ruth comes in first followed closely by John who at first I think is FG’s husband but, up close, I realize that he is Ruth’s husband.
As Ruth walks towards me, I come round the side of the bed, squeezing between the bed and the TV sideboard. I must lean forwards to greet her, I realize, to keep my boxers away from our hug, so that she won’t detect my arousal.
We have a delicious hug, my arms wrapped around the curve of her shoulders, and she kisses me on the cheek. Her dark curly hair is still black despite our ages. It brings back cozy memories of the past, though we never had a thing. It was the writing that was our bond. And suddenly, it doesn’t seem to matter that I’m in my boxers.
Then John, a big burly man, comes up to me and we have a big handshake and a brief hug. It’s good to see him too though we’ve never met before.
Behind John is FG. The cold light of the hotel corridor is behind her and I have fully circled the bed. I am now closer to the door when she and I hug.
FG and I have an even tighter embrace, for she was my first girlfriend, and the memories there are even stronger. Her soft curls are darker than the ginger I remember of her hair then. She smells of Pears soap and fields of sunflowers.
FG and I kiss on the cheeks but in our tight embrace, we fall onto the bed and her crow like black eyes look at me, as if she can see into my memories, or worse, she sees the picture I don’t want seen, developing in the orange light of her photographer’s tray. Her soft curls feel like a down pillow on my cheeks.
We roll across the bed and accidentally, roll off the other side, the side closest to the window. I push out a leg to break the fall as we hold onto each other, and with my right left leg planted on the prickly carpet I stop us from falling to the floor.
Instead, with our bodies hugging in a friendly way, the way of old friends but with a hint of what could have been – only a hint mind – everything seems alright.
Photo by Danny Birchall via Flickr.