Hearts and Bodies- cmbyn

Part Three

Upon arriving at my hotel room in Cannes, the exhaustion of travelling for several hours slowly crept up on me and all I could think about was falling back onto the bed and going to sleep, disregarding why I'd come here altogether. Just for a moment, I forgot about Oliver and the white palms of his hands and the soft caress of his feet on my feet and his tongue in my mouth. And then, as I unpacked my bag, I pulled out a shirt that had not always been mine.

It used to be mine, but you've had it far, far longer than I have, he'd say if he knew, echoing the words I'd spoken to him a few years before.

I pulled Billowy to my face, burying my nose and my mouth in it, drowning myself in it, as if it would still smell of him. It still smelt like the idea of him. After all these years, I'd forgotten exactly how it smelt to be right up against his skin, but I knew that if I ever caught even the faintest hint of it in the air, I'd know it immediately and feel the exact same high.

I'm here now, I'm here for you. Had Oliver felt the same when he'd made that fleeting visit? Had he thought: 'I'm here just for you and for no one else'? Is that why he hadn't brought his wife? His sons? It was a business trip, I reminded myself. They won't be here either.

I decided to be bold. I yanked my own t-shirt over my head and slipped Billowy over my arms, thinking of how the sweat on my body would mix with the sweat that Oliver had left behind twenty years ago and we would become the same person again. I didn't call- I wanted to surprise him. Part of me hoped that, if he just saw me there, wearing his clothes, he'd forget that twenty years had passed and he would just seize me in his arms and kiss me like we were back in Italy. So, I left my hotel room and followed street signs until I found the bookstore that he would be reading at.

An old woman with glasses halfway down the bridge of her nose greeted me, her bosoms plonked on the top of the counter.

"Bonsoir!" She chirped.

"Bonsoir Madam." I replied, "Is there supposed to be an author reading here tonight?"

"Ahh oui!" She confirmed, "He is very handsome. Very charming."

I laughed; he definitely was.

"Pour quelle heure?"

"Around eight." She told me.

I checked my watch- it was only six thirty now.

"Merci." I turned for the door, but was stopped before I could leave.

"You'll come back for it won't you?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Next door was a small coffee house where I hid out for a while, rehearsing in my head what I would say to him when I finally saw him. I'm here for you. I decided not to let you slip through my fingers. I thought of the way I would lean against the wall as I listened to him read, nonchalant in my posture but laying all my cards on the table with my eyes. At seven thirty, I noticed people start to trickle into the book store, so I decided to go and figure out where I would stand. I wanted Oliver to look me in the eyes as he read. I wanted him to stumble over his words as he tried to figure out what I was doing there. I wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers.