Rose (En)

V. "it was so natural"

I didn't talk to Rose anymore. I avoided her gaze pretending to be busy in the kitchen, or in the livingroom next to the phonograph to change the disc when it was over. I simulated a smile while I was talking with her friends, prentending to have fun. I was running around through the appartment busy doing everything, but actually I was roaming, I was roaming in the kitchen, I was roaming in the livingroom. I didn't have fun, of course I laughed, when I saw them laughing, by imitation, but I wasn't listenning, I was thinking about Rose. I was doing all my possible to not look touched by what I had just learned, while she was spending good time with her friends, or with Charles.

It was almost midnight. The atmosphere was at its height. Charles a little further was enjoying being with two other men. He looked a bit drunk.
I joined Rose in the kitchen, it was time to talk with her.

« Rose... » I said gently entering in the room.

She was turning her back at me, her hands were in the sink, she was scrubbing a plate. She didn't replied, she let me continue.

« Why didn't you tell me that you were married ? »
« Why is it so important to you ? What does it change anyway ? » she said sharply without turning over. She was keeping rubbing this same plate nervously.

These sentences, this tone, made me regret immediatly to have talked. According to me, the answer seemed obvious, but shameful. I was unable to articulate even a word or rather a lie. Rose stopped her activity, and faced me at last.

« Linda... » she whispered coming closer.

Then she stopped right in front of me, plunged her pupils into mines. I was no longer breathing. She asked sincerely and curiously in the same time :

« What are your feelings for me ? »

My pulse raced, the answer was crying in all my mind. What could I say ? What could I do ? I was in an impasse. I let my gaze fall on her lips. Her pink, delicious lips. I raised back my eyes to her blue iris, which hadn't torn away from me. And then, my answer, I've just showed her, because without thinking, I have kissed her.

This kiss seemed long, slow, and too short in the same time. Her lips were dancing with mines. And just as the time when we had danced, the two of us, in her livingroom : we were clumsy, but it was pleasant, warm, sweet.
Then slowly, she came away. I oppened my eyes and looked at her, ready to apilogize for my inapropriate behavior, but she didn't let me the time for it. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me discreetly in the room where I spent my nights, the door was just nearby the kitchen.

With a confident gesture, she undid one by one each button of my shirt, discovering my bare chest. She let her hand slowly slide on my cheek, on my breasts, on my belly. I felt myself shivering by the touch of her skin. I kissed her tenderly on the temple, on the eyelid, the corner of the mouth, and under the chin. It was so natural.

We weren't worried about the consequences, we were alone. All the rest, all the others, we didn't think about them anymore, they didn't exist anymore. In this unique room, there were only us.

And our shadows were moving in the half-light, reawakenning the spring. The breeze was blowing in my neck, whispering my name. We were alone in this forbidden garden.

Rose was so delicate, just like a mysterious and unknown flower that we could discover, free, at the top of a mountain. A flower so rare that we were forbidden to pick her. We were only allowed to kneel down at her height to enjoy her perfume. She was a rose, a rose without any spine, a rose so soft. She was blooming in front of me as she was giving herself to the midday sun, and with my fingertips, I brushed her petals, wet by the dew.

We were cuddling up together, though the bed was very little, the place was not missing. My ear leaned on her breast, I was listening to her heart, while she was softly caressing my hair. Tears started to drip on my face humidifying her naked skin. She questioned me surprised about it, with a comforting tone.

« I'm leaving tomorrow. » I answered.

She said nothing. She seemed to have forgotten, and in a peaceful silence, she just passed her fingers on my cheek to dry it.
Then, from the livingroom, we heard crying voices announcing all together the new year. And so, smiling, I adressed Rose who was still quiet.

« Happy new year. »
« I love you. »

We didn't have any idea of what these words meant, nor their importance. But for once, we didn't care, we were happy. I smiled a bit more and closed my eyes.

« I love you. »

Picture: Lee Miller kissing a woman, 1930, by Man Ray