Losing It

by Atonia

It had gone well, the evening and the dinner. It had gone very well until he’d lost his way. With the meal out of the way, they were on his sofa listening to music and talking. John wasn’t much for small talk but he managed to carry on a conversation. He’d spent so much time alone since coming to Little Timor he’d found it surprising that anyone would be interested in what he thought or felt about anything.

Keisha thought he was shy, and that endeared him to her even more. She tried to get him to open up a little about himself and the trap door closed. She sensed his past was painful and tried steering the conversation to other things, but the monster was in the room. He got up, fiddled with the CD player, refilled glasses, opened and then shut the sliding door to his patio.

“John I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up memories you’d rather not relive.”

“It’s okay, it’s just that I think I’m past all that and well…”

“Please forget I even asked, come back and sit down.”

John turned from the door and looked at her feeling like a complete fool. “I guess I’m a little rusty at this, Keisha, I haven’t dated anyone since the divorce and before that, hell I was married for twelve years you know, I forget how…”

“You’re doing just fine, come and sit with me.”

He walked back and sat beside her, “I have two sons, they went with their mother, I haven’t seen them since she left and took them to New York.” He spoke quietly to his hands in his lap.

“I didn’t know, don’t you have visitation rights, John?”

“Yeah, I thought it best to make a clean break at the time; they’re young enough to forget about me. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I sold the house and everything in it, trashed what I couldn’t sell and bought a ticket to Australia. I don’t regret leaving, there were too many memories there, I grew up in that town went to school at Mystery High School. There was no way I could live there seeing the pity in everybody’s eyes I met.”

Keisha slipped her arm through his and took his hand, “I understand; it must have been an awful time for you. There’s no pity here, John, I don’t feel sorry for you. I know you’ve suffered, it’s now part of who you are. I’ve suffered too in a different way, but I don’t carry it around with me anymore. It made me stronger.”

“You’ll have to be strong to put up with me,” he’d turned to look at her and found her eyes into his and he’d kissed her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he’d sputtered.

“Do it again,” she’d said softly with her hand on his cheek.

He did, and found his body coming alive in a way it hadn’t in a long time.  Several passionate kisses later and he had her in his bed, where he’d lost it.

He’d come like a fourteen year old school boy before she’d even got started. She’d told him it didn’t matter, there would be other times, but for him the night was over. He was disgusted with himself and fell over on the bed embarrassed.

“John, it’s been a long time for you don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Don’t be so understanding, Keisha you should jump up and down on the bed and call me names, get angry.”

Keisha laughed, “I think you’re doing a job of that all by yourself.”

John smiled a little, “I might have been fifteen the last time I did that. I still can’t believe it.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me,” she said running her fingers lightly down his chest to his navel. “We’ve got all night.”

“I’ll try,” he said turning on his side and taking her face in his hand and kissing her.

The next morning Keisha woke first and quietly as she could got out of bed and slipped on her clothes. She looked down at him, his hair tangled around his face, and wanted to kiss him good morning, but he looked so peaceful sleeping she smiled and let herself out of the house and into her car. She would go home, shower, call Mrs. Warrick to check on Mori and open her shop.

John woke with a start and untangled himself from the sheet; he looked over at the pillow beside him, “Keisha?” he called out.

He got up and walked into the lounge and looked out of the window, she was gone. He ran his hand through his hair; well he’d made a fuck up of that.