SWIM Book 1 (Complete three-hundred pages)

DAY 26.3

Thursday, December 14, 2017

T

he temperature in the room dialed up to that of a hot tamale. A fog blew over my mind during this full-body experience, but as I lay on the floor, with Craig, under him, I thought it would benefit us both if he ripped off his shirt. So I helped him. My nails cut and raked and I know I made him bleed as he made a sound with his mouth but I aggressively kept on kissing him. Locking my legs around his upper waist, feeling him grow and then--

Kapow! The lights went out.

We stopped and my eyes ripped open to see moonlight hanging like a tablecloth over the wooden table beside us. He pulled his lips from me and stood on all fours, his white shirt torn with my fingers still gripped to what was left of it. There was blood dripping down his back where my nails had dug into his skin. My fingers could feel it warm and oozing. I could taste it through them somehow. But I turned my head, trying to reel in some oxygen in the air that Craig wasn't already sucking, and there on the window, rippling over the glass like an army of ants. . . came the rain. The rain made a magical sound in the dark silence. Craig and I looked up out that window as the moon began to blur while the rain increased upon that window. The library was even more relaxing under the sound of the soothing rain than it was in the silence and I turned my head back to face up at Craig's face in the moonlight, and saw over his head on the ceiling where the vanilla candle shed a soft yellowish light by where it still flickered. It smelled deliciously on the reading table by where Craig left the bible. The chandelier glistened like diamonds in the dark. The bulb must have burst during our kissing, possibly the moment I tore Craig's shirt in a heated hunger, and then Craig dropped his face down slowly and kissed me again, in the sweet way that admiration and gratefulness does when nostalgia for a shared childhood transforms into an adult conversation of the skin.

I suddenly began to cry. And it was because I suddenly loved this boy more than I knew I had underneath the noise of a high lifestyle of spending and shopping and consuming and socializing and texting and all the nonsense of an empty planet. In the peace of island solitude, on the brink of death by hunger or other devastations to come, I had found something hiding underneath the folds of my chest over a decade old.

I looked at Craig, who was on me, and in my smile, contagious it was so, that mine spread into his, and together we peeled off the rest of the layers to make our skins free, and I felt at his bulge, touched in long, lost control of my eyelids as I directed him like a pilot in the sky. My eyelids drooped as he melted into me like a basket into a clearest riverbed. He was all in, as was I, and we opened our eyes to the realization. . . if this was heaven, when did we die?

Death would come at the end.