Trying to Throw my Arms Around the World

Face cream

Face cream

I checked my face in the bathroom mirror and was not pleased with what I saw. Too many sleepless nights complemented by excessive alcohol intake rubbed off on my complexion. Two weeks with Joan were hardly enough to flush out years of mistreating my poor liver. My life needed an injection of something wholesome, something kind, something resembling love − as Lucy had tentatively put it. How could Lou fall for this jagged old face? I rummaged through a basket stuffed with day and night cream samples Millie kept supplying me with in the hope I might use them some day. I found one of which the packaging promised ‘instant restoration’ and applied it generously until the skin of my face felt made of wax. Visually, I noticed no difference. “You can’t change yourself over night, Lee,” Joan had tirelessly yelled every time I had sighed a bit too loud for her liking. “It takes a daily commitment. Every day of the rest of your life.” She was right about some things. I hoped she wouldn’t rip Lucy’s heart to shreds just to get back at me. “Not everything is about you, darling,” I whispered to my reflection. “But a lot of fucked up shit is. Do something about that.” I smeared some anti-puffiness lotion under my eyes and prayed for the best, tried to nod convincingly at myself and went on my way to meet Lou.

I was in the process of taking my sixth deep breath before ringing Lou’s bell when her front door opened.

“Are you coming in or what?” She wore the grey pin-striped vest with, what looked from my angle, nothing underneath. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, flirting with the possibility of either a mocking sneer or a smirk of endearment. She turned around and I followed her inside. Smoke swirled around the cracks in the curtains and assaulted my respiratory system. What would it take to have her quit? How many days of commitment?

“About the other night,” I started. “I’m sorry−”

“Don’t be,” she said and curled a hand around my neck. Her fingers inched into my hair, eliciting a muffled gasp from my mouth. “Maybe we were both partly right and partly wrong.”

“That’s a promising thought.” Her eyes darted across my face, their jerky movement implying mischief and impatience − or perhaps the face cream had finally kicked in and some miraculous restoration was taking place across my skin. Then, without further ado, she kissed me and I knew she felt it too. The shudder in my bones, the unmistakable longing in my soul, the instant realisation that she was important − it wasn’t unrequited, it wasn’t a one-way street. I was certain she felt it too.

“If Alex wasn’t so extremely gay I’d be worried about how he bangs on about you all the time.” Lou was rolling a cigarette while her head rested on my stomach. Tiny flecks of tobacco drizzled down and freckled my skin.

“Oh, so you did it for Alex. Because you have to work with him every day. I get it.” The gentle bouts of laughter rippling through my belly shook Lou’s head and more tobacco gathered next to her splayed-out hair on the skin of my stomach. I would need to start negotiations on banning this habit from the bedroom soon.

“Obviously.”

“Thank God for Alex then.” I removed the half-ready cigarette from Lou’s hand and put it on the night stand. I ignored the nicotine stains on her fingers and slid down to kiss her. It wasn’t a night for processing − other, more urgent needs came first.

To be continued…