A Collection of Imagines

Timothée

Tout commes vous 

My head rattles against the side of the train car. My eyes focused on the contents outside of the window. I landed in Venice and I was advised to take a train. I watch as the city skyscrapers turn into vast meadows and stony hills. I missed this so much. I missed the hot sun against my skin. Though, my skin had paled due to the New York climate. I used to be so amazed by the way my skin would glow and tan under the Italian sunshine. I never thought I would miss speaking Italian so much. I remember what it would make my voice sound. If I was happy, I sound like a 5 year old again. If I was mad, it would make me sound like a mob leader. If I was sad, it would make me sound like a model. That's just how it works. I missed how everything was so dainty and minimal. Like the train car I'm in now. I love how there's only four seats facing each other with the door separating me with the rest of the passengers. The little shelves above the seats look like they can only hold a few briefcases and maybe one suitcase. Well, that's what I brought. I didn't bring him however. I didn't bring the man that tried to pull me away from the boy I once loved. I didn't think it would be a great idea to tell him that I was going to see the boy, much less bring him along with me. The PA system sounds, 

"Prossima fermata, Crema. Avvicinamento alla stazione ferroviaria crema."

I look out the window once more to see the sign that read Crema train station up ahead in Italian. I felt my stomach flip inside of me. I haven't seen the boy in a year. I wonder how much he has changed. I hope not very much. I quite liked his look when we were 17. In fact, I liked a lot of things when we were 17. I liked the way we spent our time together. Whether it was in his secret Monet spot or outside of the espresso cafe in the pizaetta, we loved each others company. I hope that's the same now. I hope that his skin still feels the same. His hair. His lips. No. I can't think about that. I still have the man in New York. The train rolls into the station. It slows as I see the boarding mat go by. A few people fly by, but they come slower as the train gradually stops. Suddenly, the boy comes into my view. The train becomes even slower as I watch him stand on the boarding mat. His hair is still a curly mess of locks on the top of his head. I blink my eyes to get rid of the image of him in a graphic tee shirt and swim trunks as I see him now in a dress shirt with not all of the buttons done up and straight legged jeans. He has changed. We both have. We took different paths, but they eventually led us to each other again. The train stops as he stops right in front of my window. I look down his body to find that he was holding a bouquet of sunflowers. My favorite flowers. He remembered. He looks down the train into each window until he looks into mine. I takes me a second to debate whether or not he could see me until he smiles and holds up the bouquet to give a small wave. I feel my smile grow from ear to ear. I missed that smile. I stand and grab my suitcase from the shelf as well as my briefcase. I open the door of my car and walk down the hallway towards the exit where one of the conductors is ushering the passengers out. I walk down the steps of the train and plant my feet on the boarding mat. I look to my left to find him in the same spot. He turns his head to look at me and I swear time stops. I missed the boy that has now turned into a well-dressed man. I mean it's only been a year. How much could he have changed? I place one foot in front of the other and walk towards him. Each step feels like it's taking a hundred years. When I finally reach him, his smile vanishes. He searches my face to try to find some sort of explanation as to why mine is emotionless. I place my bags on the boarding mat. My hand goes to the bouquet as I take it from him. I look back into his brown eyes and I remember all of those nights that I had stayed up to watch them open from his slumber once the sun came up. I loved him then. "Merci. Ils sont tres bonne." I look down that the flowers in my grasp and I feel his hand wrap around my cheek. 

"Tout comme vous." 

I sigh against his hand, leaning into it. I hear the train rev up again. The horn blares, consuming all hearing. I hated it. I hated not being able to hear him breathe in front of me. I move in closer to him just as the train starts to move away from the station. I lick my lips as I watch him stare down at them. I remembered how much I admired him when he did that. He always knew what would get me to curl my toes. Even in the beginning when we barely knew each other. I loved him then. And I love him now. I stand on my toes and bring my hands around his neck. I freeze for a second. Staring into his clouded eyes, just like I used to. I hope that he still feels the same and when he dips his head to me to lock his lips with mine, I knew that everything was going to back the way it was before. The train started to pick up speed, creating a breeze that whips through both of our hair. He places his hand on the small of my back and I moan into him. I lean further into him, wanting more. I know I have a whole week to get more, but I want all of it now. I break away from him and my forehead touches his, still on my toes. "Mon bonne homme." 

"Ma belle femme."