a sequence of illusions

It started with his arms around me, holding me close. I could feel the warmth of his chest and the hard gaze of his light green eyes as they bore down on me. “I want to get you out of here. I would take you; if you would let me… we could go here” he said, reaching around my body and pointing to the globe that I was mindlessly spinning on the nightstand. He pointed to the Netherlands. I quickly flipped my body around to face him, feeling the sheets graze across my naked skin. “Really?” I questioned, as I looked up and smiled at a solid man whom I knew inside and out. He had been there forever, you see. Previously, we had our share of “non-committal” flings and hookups – with others and with each other – but this was the first time he felt as if he actually had a legitimate chance at being with the girl of his dreams… me. So it seemed he was taking full advantage of every moment he could. We laughed, talked and held each other until a dark, blackness filled the scene.

I was in a different room, a different place. Colder, yet more inviting somehow. The room was dark, as it had been before… but everything else had changed. The bed was no longer on the right side of the room. It was now on the left. I could see a door straight ahead, closed. There was no nightstand, no globe, and no green eyes drinking me in. More importantly there was no emptiness; the emptiness I had been unaware of inside myself was now filled up with warm happiness. A real happiness. The smile I was wearing was not a forced, manufactured smile – but an authentic one that I felt throughout my entire being. It was then that I realized what I was smiling about.

There he was. I looked down into my lap, and my sweet lover was resting his head, arms wrapped around my lower body. His eyes were closed. So peaceful.

Breathtaking.

The same thing happened then, that happens most times I am able to exist in the same moment with him. My mind only remembers bits and pieces. . . I remember the soft light from the window falling upon his exposed upper body, the lines of his arms and neck. I remember the way his arms felt wrapped around my small torso. The weight of his head in my lap. I remember not touching him, in fear that if he woke he would disappear and this would end too soon.

I remember the scent of his fuzzy hair.

But mostly, I remember being happy.

The door suddenly burst open on my sweet utopia. My worst nightmare walked in. The man I so dearly loved, but was not in love with. The man I had just been with, in another room, another place, another time. Those same light green eyes bore into me. I recognized the passion in them, although this was a different kind of passion than they carried before; a kind I had never witnessed from him. My heart felt dizzy, and my head was numb as I flashed a glimpse down at my lovers face. His chocolate eyes met mine, and I felt my insides melt as they had a million times before. He grounded me. Nothing else mattered. He was the one. The only one. As I found the strength to realign my eyes ahead of me… everything went fuzzy and all I could hear were short bursts of accusations: “She was just with me”, “She doesn’t love you”, “She’s lying to you!” “Taylor!?!”….

By this time my chocolate eyed lover was no longer in my lap. I could feel the distance between him and myself expanding as he silently listened.

I was breathing heavy, lost. My mind was racing, I couldn’t lose him. Not yet. This couldn’t be over. Not yet. I stood up. I had to do something.

So I lied.

I said evil things, and denied any and all accusations of being with anyone other than the one man I loved with every part of me imaginable. I lied. I let every raging, dishonest detail explode out of my mouth until I heard his heart break…. Then I fell silent. The green eyed man who had once made promises  to love me forever, and take me away – my white knight – turned his back on me as he walked out of the room, ending the last chapter in the book of us, with the muted click of a door closing.

My heart ached, but I instictually and gracefully walked back to the love of my life, and situated myself in a pleading position next to him. He obliged, and for the second time that night, wrapped his familiar arms around my body, and squeezed me closer to him. He gently laid his head on my chest as I smiled contently into the night. He was mine. It was all I could do, to hold his head, drink in the aroma of his hair, lock to memory the texture of his skin, and stare at the closed door in the soft moonlight.