December 31, 2011.
Her presence had been a constant all evening. Through dinner, while I conversed animately with those around me, I could feel her eyes on me and I would turn toward her to receive the benediction of her smile. Later, as I talked to my editor, Katherine Mason, the hostess of the elegant, uptown New Year's party, I sensed her drawing close to me before she came into my line of sight.
“Excuse me, Katherine,” I said and she nodded, smiling benignly and a little flushed with wine, as Adèle took my arm and led me away from the other guests.
“Take me home now, please,” said Adèle. I could see that she'd had her share of wine also; her pale, almost colourlessly clear eyes glistened with playfulness.
“What? Now?” I asked her, incredulous. “But it's still early! Don't you want to be here for midnight? Aren't you feeling well?” Standing quite a bit shorter than I, she pulled on my forearm and I bent toward her like a sapling before the wind. First, her lips moved over my neck and then she whispered in my ear.
“I want to make love to you.”
How could I possibly refuse?
Adèle appeared in my life in late 2009 as suddenly as a whirlwind and, as I was buffeted about by the gale-force of her affection, she snapped up my heart and held it close to hers. I could not have been happier. Now, two years later, I could feel the tumult again. I knew that by five o'clock on New Year's Day, I would be driving her to the airport where she would depart for India and a new, two year management assignment. I was doing my best not to think about it. We had decided, together, that the party was the best way to keep ourselves distracted and entertained.
We slipped from the party unnoticed and ran, hand in hand, down the frozen lawn of the upscale Rosedale home to my small, silver Audi parked at the curb. A light snow was falling, a 'dusting' of crystalline perfection moving in the air and glistening like stars, driven by the breeze, from their orbits. The street was very quiet although several houses were lit up like Christmas trees and the many cars parked along the street showed that other parties were going on. We got in and I carefully three-pointed to exit from between two enormous SUV's. We drove, not speaking. A Robert Cray CD played softly. The weight of Adèle's presence beside me was comforting and tantalising. She smoked and her hand rested lightly on my thigh.
Before Adèle blew over my existence, I had essentially stopped looking for a companion in my life. A series of disastrous relationship experiences over the previous years had left me jaded, aloof and disinterested. It is not the case that I didn't want to have someone close to me but, rather, I placed it much lower on my list of priorities: I had a good job and was successful at it, I was well on the way to paying off my condo and I had a few close friends who were like family to me; really, I lacked for nothing and my life was content and comfortable in a good way. Adèle changed all that. She showed me that all it takes is to find the right person and, suddenly, everything falls into place in ways that weren't previously conceived of. I found myself staring in wonder sometimes at her, aware that I loved her but too overcome by emotion to say anything.
The door was scarcely closed and bolted behind us, our shoes kicked off at the entranceway, when her hands were on me and she led me to the bedroom. She was giggling: alternately aggressive, pushing me playfully onto my back; her hands, her body and her mouth encouraging my excitement and, passive; drawing me over her, showing me what she wanted and her pleasure at the effects my touch had on her. I could have stayed there forever.
“What time is it?” she said to me, startling me from my sated, dream-like state. I glanced at the softly glowing, luminescent numbers of the clock.
“My eyes aren't focusing,” I answered. “I think you did something to them.” She breathed, softly laughing, in my ear, her body warmly melded to mine. “I think it's 11:45 – almost the New Year... 2012.”
“Wanna watch?”
“I think that's what made my eyes go funny in the first place,” I answered and she pinched me in response.
“I mean, 'the fireworks', dummy,” she added after her assault.
“Hmm,” I answered, unsatisfied with the idea of climbing out of bed. There was a cold wind outside and, occasionally, the panes rattled in frigid agitation. Still, not knowing how the future would treat us, I said 'Sure' and got up, extricating myself from the tangle of limbs and thinking of ringing in the New Year with 'my girl'. I tossed her one of my sweatshirts from the closet which she pulled over her thin frame before her legs poked out from the mussed covers. I sought and then found my 'sweats' in a crumpled ball on the floor and pulled them on.
In the kitchen, I poured us some drinks and heard, from the living room, the sound of the curtains being drawn back from the expanse of windows over the balcony. In the park across the street, some plumes of light already raised but nothing, I was certain, compared to the cacophony that would erupt after midnight. I noticed the clock as I exited the kitchen: 11:59.
I handed Adèle her drink. She had turned on the radio and the sound was turned low. I thought that I discerned an old song by R.E.M. but I wasn't sure. She was dancing slowly by herself on the broad, open, wood floor, her hips swaying lusciously in time with the music. She accepted the drink and took a sip.
“Hey! It's midnight!” I said. A bright, blue trail of light erupted from the darkness of the park. It arced upwards and, then, in an wink, disappeared without either flame or noise. “Huh. Must have been a dud,” I said and turned to beckon to Adèle.
Her glass crashed to the floor, spraying shards and sticky spatter.
She was gone.
this is my response to Scribbles Challenge #48.
thanks for visiting.
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