Air-Kissed

Steve Borreros Romano

You chased after me. I shove open the door with a deafening crash, slamming it against the opposite wall. You rise and call out to me, incoherent words, and meaningless phrases. The late afternoon light is bronze and sears my cheeks without notice. The suitcase in hand is empty, barren, and void like a desert; what do I have to take with me when you’ve plundered and stolen everything else? The lonely dirt road is strangely unfamiliar, but the train station is in sight. I stride towards it.

You caught my hand. As you wretch my body to face towards you, your gasps surge down my face and your dark eyes distort, wild with fear. You ask me stupidly if I was really going. When I recoil, you pluck me back again as if I am a flower that bends away from your oppressive wind. Staring at me to the point of being a glare, you tell me not to leave. My dress slides easily over my body like the ocean’s waters; what happened to the love that was born that day I first touched the sea’s tears? A distant ringing weaves in between us like a fluttering butterfly, warning me that the train was leaving. I start to tear away...

You drew my lips to yours. As I try to break free again, you yank me in, and your cold lips press against mine. Your hand screens and masks my cheek. For a moment, I forget my anger, and everything seems right again. But I remember her, the one who destroyed everything that was right between us. I can feel the cold ring on your finger that presses against my cheek like a cold glass window; why did you care if you had her? A hard slap across the face shatters our contact. Hot angry tears scald my eyes and face. I turn away, knowing that if my graze crosses yours, I will lose sight of all reason to leave, to become your chained prisoner again. My eyes didn’t catch yours.

The hard road pounds against my feet. My sandals unravel then fall away, allowing loose stones to claw and to slice at my skin. The torrid heat parches my already impoverished throat. Rasps heave my body and, for an instant, the sun shudders. Then your voice screams the phrase that threatens to draw me back and make my tears storm for you. To weep for the paradise lost to us. Those two words still ring in my ears as my feet whisk me away. Don’t go!

Screech! The ear-piercing sound as the train shrieks to a stop slaps me out of my shrouding thoughts. I look up. I’m alone on this platform with only the dry wind as my companion. I see myself standing, abandoned on the forsaken platform like the sole survivor standing in the scorching desolation of an all-consuming firestorm.

Then I remember. When I left, you didn’t chase after me or catch my hand or kiss me or beg me to stay. You didn’t care enough to come after me. You chose her and forgot me.

You didn’t follow.

The sliding door glides open before me with a low hiss. Staring over my shoulder one last time, there is only empty space waiting for me on the tiled platform. Then I wrap my hand around the handle to hoist myself up onto the lined steps.

Suddenly, something wispy curls around my wrist, stopping me. There, you were the most perfect mirage that my delusional mind could create. This apparition has the special scent that you had. Your echoing words of don’t go, like the last dying notes of a love song...

I am shocked to find that even shaking my head was difficult. Your eyes convey the deepest regret that would’ve never appeared on your real face and warmth spreads from me for this flawless illusion that takes your smooth features. Before I can stop myself, I close my eyes and lean forward. My lips touch yours so tenderly.

To the world, I was just kissing the air. Maybe I was just kissing my heart goodbye. But that last fleeting kiss, like a grazing butterfly, tasted like the salty tears of a faraway ocean where love was once born.

If only you cared enough to follow.

If only you cared that much.

Hakbang

Photo by Nele Stephen Pacurib