Milk Flower
I woke up having to piss. She was lying in bed, but I am sure Hana wasn't sleeping. She was cuddled up tightly. I didn't remember her coming in to bed the night before. The party went late and my self imposed sobriety was weakened by the reefer being passed around. I headed for her bed room, I slept soundly. The clamorous grad students couldn't wake me.
I walked down the hall, the shaggy carpet soft on my bare, unsteady feet. The bathroom was occupied when I went for the latched door. I decided I would sit on the couch and wait. I was shocked to find a bare-chested man yelling into a cell phone at this hour here in Hana's house. The room was filled with cigarette smoke. Light through the blinds made it dance with madness. I watched it through bleary eyes. The young man looked at me with discontent. He didn't like me, but that was okay. It all made perfect sense in a purely protective way. I was an outsider. He got up from the couch, walked into the kitchen and drank my orange juice from the carton. I guess I would be spending the rest of my day in bed.
The door to the bathroom opened and Aesook, Hana's roommate exited. She wasn't wearing much, but this was not unusual for young women who lived in pairs and still went to the University. She didn't blush, she just gave a slight wave and smile and said "it's all yours," as she walked into the kitchen. The young man looked at her with the same grimace he had given me but did not break from his heated conversation. I sat back for a moment on the couch, watching the sunlight fight the lingering smoke. I rubbed my face, the shaggy hairs feeling more rough then normal against my tattered hands. I made for the bathroom.
I decided to shower as I had slept in clothes that reeked of pot and cigarettes. Because this was not my house I would now smell of sweet artificial berries and my skin would be very very soft. My hair would smell like tree bark. In the presence of my co-workers I would have been quite silly. But this was a Saturday morning. It would all fade away by Monday when I woke for the office.
Hana spied on me as I darted from the bathroom to her bedroom. I had a towel around me, that was mostly too small for my protruding waist line. I clenched it together as best I could with one hand. I also had my clothes bundled up and pressed tightly against my thigh. I dropped the towel and the clothes on her floor with the rest of the books, underwear and shirt tops, pencils and book bags that were typical of this apartment, this room, this life. I crawled over her quickly and got under the covers. Her back was turned from me and she was breathing regularly, if slightly heavily. I kissed her neck, the skin was soft, cool and inviting. She did not move. I found she was wearing very little and so I moved from her neck to her shoulder. I felt around the curve with my hand and my lips parted with a wide birth to taste as much of this delicate woman as possible. She moved slightly, favorably but not wanting to acknowledge that she was awake, that she was aware of my body, of my movements. From her shoulder I made my way down her back and to her side, the tender and soft flesh of her body now fuller. I kissed at her side and moved my hand around to her stomach, tracing her slight belly button with my finger. Hana was much smaller then I was, much skinnier and a probably far too young. I made up for all my bad traits with patience and fumbling experience. Her breathing became deeper, slower and heavier. She turned to face me, her body and eyes gesturing for a kiss on the lips. I crawled up the small valley and embraced her in my arms and gave her the deep, longing kiss she wanted too early in the morning.
I continued to press my lips to the inches of her skin. I waited and waited for something to happen, something destructive or loud or violent to interrupt us, to stop us. Voices from the other room penetrated the thin wooden door, but they were not startling, not distracting. They seemed to be somewhere else, in some other plane of existence, not just beyond the comforting room of Hana's bed and body, but another universe that seemed to collide with ours. She moved her hips up and removed her silky underwear. She tossed them on the floor over a pile of books by Chaucer, Whitman, Carver and Lorde. I made love with her, slowly and gently at first, her eyes still sleepy, mine still hazy. I grew disoriented as our bodies connected with each other and she bit my lip slightly to remind me where I was. I looked down on her face and she smiled at me. I remained tender, if not solely from want but from the exhaustion of being old and unable to maintain any sense of self resolution. For now she would not mind, she would allow me the courtesy of my best mistakes and she would come gently and lovingly. I would fall, wounded and a bit pride worn, but I would be happy for her graces. I held her against me and kissed at her body that panted lightly.
