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Vibrations --
7-31-04
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a short fiction
_see him dismount his Harley and before
he shakes his curly strawberry blond hair from his brainpan helmet and
removes those dark sunglasses, I know his eyes will be blue and they will
twinkle at me.� His face smiles naturally, without even meaning to,
and the sides of his eyes crinkle.� His goatee is darker than his
hair and flecked with red and brown.� His teeth sparkle.
��� And when he sees me moving closer, he wonders if
he knows me from somewhere; while I pretend I'm admiring his bike.�
He tucks his helmet under one arm, pats the seat and asks me if I want
a ride.
��� I try to pretend that I don't already know what's
meant to be, and I act shy as I nod and move closer.� He hands me
a helmet, replaces his own, and climbs back on to the bike.� I slide
in behind him, feeling the coolness of his leather vest; breathing in the
scent of him, salt, sweat, and something spicy like a rich, mulled wine.
��� I wrap my arms slowly around his well-fed middle
and feel the coolness of that leather on my chin as the motorcycle roars
back to life and vibrates through me.
��� We rumble slowly out of the parking lot and merge
gracefully into traffic.� "You o.k.?" he shouts back to me, patting
my arm with his leather-gloved hand.� I move my arms around him a
little tighter and pat his stomach to indicate yes.
��� He takes me on to the highway, and the wind fills
my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.� I scream, but my voice is carried
away on the wind before I ever hear it.� I am overloaded with sensation,
as I cling to him, feeling the moment vibrate through us, feeling the heat
of his body in my arms, smelling leather and him and wanting to bathe in
it.
��� Too soon, we're rumbling back into that parking
lot.� The sudden lack of sensation leaves me feeling numb and dazed,
as I slide out from behind him and back to the ground.� He slides
off, too, but sits back on it, sideways.� "My name's Eric," he says,
as he removes his helmet for the second time.
��� I� laugh.� "I know that," I say, as if
he should realize it, forgetting that he might not remember yet.
��� "How can you know that?" he asks, trying to remember
where we've met before.
��� "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I tell
him, avoiding his gaze, wanting to fall against him and absorb him.
��� "Come on," he prods playfully, taking my hand and
pulling me closer to him.� "I know you from somewhere, don't I?"�
And he searches my face and his mind, reaching deep, trying to recall the
connection -- wondering how it could feel this strong.
��� "I've dreamed about you," I tell him truthfully,
meeting his eyes, this time.� His brow furrows slightly with his confusion,
but his instincts tell him to trust me and he kisses me tentatively.�
I gasp slightly as our lips meet, drinking the precious water I've thirsted
ages for.� His eyes open wide with a start and tears and he stares
at me in amazement, our kiss flooding his brain with the memories.
��� "It's been a hundred years," he whispers, as he
begins to kiss my hands.� The wounds of our lives pool between us
and dissipate.� Sobs of relief well up inside me as I watch his beautiful
mouth press against each of my fingers.� The waiting of this lifetime
is over.� Now the living can begin.
��� As we ride away, warming to the strange familiarity
of each other's bodies, I know our first child will be a girl. |
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