Innocence

The Wedding

When I heard her breathing deepen and even, I waited a bit longer before turning to her. My face was still burning, my back teeth still chattering slightly even though I was boiling hot. Ronit's room was dark but the moon was shining through the open window; I could make out the faint details of her face. Her mouth was open, and I could hear the smooth, gentle rumble of her lungs as she inhaled quietly through her nose. My eyes sought out the pale outline of her lips, the lips I'd run from.

I cursed myself.

When she'd leant in I knew what she had meant to do. I knew what she had wanted because I wanted the same thing. Everything we'd done had been leading up to it. Every time her lips touched my hair and every time mine touched her neck, every time we held hands, each embrace, each caress and each stroke. The urge was so strong it made me feel sick.

I had wanted to her kiss me, I said the words in my head until a clenching in my stomach made me stop. When she'd brushed my lips with her fingers, my stomach lurched as though trying to escape my body. I should have pulled her to me then. I should have held her waist and leant in myself, pressed my mouth against hers to feel her lips. A shiver juddered down my spine and I trembled, making Ronit murmur in her sleep.

Why had I run away from her? I asked myself.

I suppose I was afraid. Afraid of doing it wrong, afraid of taking the leap into something new in case she changed her mind. Everything was fine, I didn't want that to change. But at the same time, I did. I wanted it to go further, I wanted more of her, but that in itself was terrifying.

The sound of her breathing kept bringing me back to her face. I wanted to touch her cheek, but I didn't want to wake her. I swallowed away the dry taste of disappointment and shuffled closer, so that I could feel her warm, consistent breath on my chin. I pressed the cold tip of my nose against hers lightly, just for a second, before turning onto my side and nestling back under her arm.

I couldn't concentrate at all the next morning; my eyes and chest were heavy with tiredness and frustration. Ronit and I didn't speak much as we got ready and walked to the synagogue. A hot stab of sadness remained in my chest the entire morning, and I think Ronit was aware of it. I wanted to apologise again but I knew she'd scold me if I did that.

I woke up after her. She had been laying on her back staring at the ceiling, I don't know how long for. Her big, brown eyes looked sad and shiny and it made me feel awful; I rested my head on her chest just to avoid looking at them.

'I'm sorry.' I muttered, allowing my thumb to circle the smooth skin of her stomach.

'You don't have anything to be sorry for.'

'I do.'

'No, you don't.'

'I'm just scared.'

Her words had been blunt and low up to that point, she exhaled and spoke softly. 'I don't want to make you scared.'

'No, no, it's not you- it's not your fault.' I shifted and put my whole hand on her. Talking that little amount didn't make it any better, so soon we both got up and dressed.

I didn't see my mother at the synagogue, which I had been expecting; she spent a lot of her time in bed these days. Shayna sat next to us, she kept whispering things to Ronit and giggling which made the tips of my ears burn. I saw Miss Stern a few rows behind us, I turned to look at her at one point and she smiled at me; I didn't feel anything. Though I did feel a stir when Ronit's fingers lightly stroked the back of my hand.

Towards the end of the service, the Rav mentioned something about a wedding that would be taking place after the service. I think he said it was between Michael Rosenfeld and Ilana Fishel, I didn't imagine many people would attend the wedding; they weren't the most popular people in the community. Michael ran the fishmongers and always smelled of putrid fish guts and Ilana was stony faced and never smiled.