Stories Of Young Love (8 page)

She didn’t see me
as she walked to the reception and asked falteringly, nervously,
for my room. I tapped her shoulder from behind and her face lit up
with relief. I saw then, although I had known it before, that it
was her first time. She had never asked for a guy’s room before
this, and my heart cried “fool” for even thinking of breaking
off.

She looked
uncomfortable standing there and her eyes were pleading to get her
out of others’ sight quickly, to my room, but her lips could only
say, “Where do we sit?”.

She was wearing a
new, dazzling white shirt with a narrow but deep-cut neck and short
tight sleeves that showed her plump arms to advantage, and fawn
close-fitting trousers above dun leather moccasins. She looked
charming and fresh, and I was aware of pink inviting lips and small
uniform teeth. But my mind forced me to look at the spare flesh on
her shoulders that peeked through the shirt neck. It was a deep,
slightly rounded back, there really was no narrow waist to encircle
in my arms. I would probably hurt my back trying to twirl her
around.

“Let’s go,” I
said, “I checked out early”.

I read surprise in
her face, then a silent question in her eyes that quickly set into
anger. She probably wanted to ask, “Why?” but only said “Okay”.

We were like
strangers after that. We ate in silence at the same shack and the
man there remembered us and bustled about sharing the day’s news. I
told her I had to leave early to be back in time for the evening
shift at office. She nodded calmly. “Yes, of course.”

We were together
for about an hour and I kept dreading the question about our
future, although a little voice told me it wouldn’t arise. She had
understood me completely. Overcome by guilt, my heart almost made
me propose to her in atonement, but luckily my head held firm. I
had judged her well as a person, and her friendship was invaluable,
but we weren’t made to marry each other. I had to cut her free, and
myself too.

“Write to me. Let
me find my inbox full in the evening,” I said facetiously and a bit
too cheerfully as I got into an auto. She just waved and smiled
wanly. As the auto turned into a main road, I leaned back in the
seat and sighed. I was a free bird after two years. Love had felt
good but freedom was better.

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