I sit her in the seat across from me before standing and making the final arrangement to make her night special. I make my request, pass a twenty to the bartender, then make my way back to Saylor, who is still watching me from across the room.
“Mondo Bongo” plays through the speakers and I hold my hand out for hers. She takes it with a smile and I pull her into the rain. Saylor dances with her eyes closed, while I hold her hips and move with her. The rain drenches us both, but we dance on. I hold her in my arms, kiss her with my lips, and tell her everything I haven’t said in this one moment. She feels it. And I feel her. I feel her love piecing my heart back together. I feel her body that moves in sexy sways in my arms. And I feel her soul. A soul that God didn’t need to shine any mercy on. Because this one, this one was made perfect.
—
I get us a room next door. This time when we shower together, she bathes me and I don’t leave when she’s finished. I return the favor. Before, she used the time to memorize everything about me. Now it’s me memorizing everything about her.
I memorize the shape of her collarbone and how the hollow of her throat is deep and holds water when she leans her head back and takes a breath. How the weight of the water makes her hair perfectly straight, forcing it to brush the top of her ass. How the swoop of her back curves inward and when she moves just right, two dimples form on the lower part of it. How her thighs thicken, then narrow at her knees, then thicken at her calves. The small arch in her feet and the descending order of size in her toes. Her full, pink lips that have been kissed too much. Her small, narrow nose that is dotted with freckles. The wrinkle in her forehead and the laugh lines at the corners of her mouth.
Everything about her is now permanently etched in my brain, but I plan to focus on these parts every day, just to be sure I don’t forget. We’re in bed and I want to make love to her. So I do. And she wants it. It’s intimate. It’s long. And it’s amazing. I kiss all the parts I memorized. I lick every piece of flesh exposed to me, and let her fall to pieces in my arms every time she comes. Over and over again. Then I bury myself inside of her, memorizing the way her walls contract around my cock as I fill her.
I know everything about her body. I know the goodness of her heart. I know the destiny of her soul. And I know she loves me. Because she’s told me over and over tonight. I guess that’s the only thing I needed to hear, and I can only hope that her love is something I can memorize too.
—
The sun rose long ago and we’re still in bed. And I’m still holding her. And today my will to stay is not as strong as it was yesterday. I can’t keep thoughts of the future out of my head. How many times will I get to hold her before she is gone? How am I here when all I really want to do is run?
I have an answer, but only to that last question. I can’t run because she needs me. And I promised her I would never leave her again. But I’ve already broken that promise once, and I’m a coward.
“Don’t run from me, Dirk.” Maybe it’s because I started to pull away. Maybe it’s because of her ability to read my mind or maybe it’s because she knows me well enough to know what my plan of action is. Whatever the reason for her words, they are what I need to hear.
When she tries to pull away, I hold her closer. And I let Shady’s words cut through my brain. It shouldn’t take this kind of news for me to want to hold on to her. She could have died in a car wreck, or from an aneurism or a fucking kidney infection. Does it really take her saying the words I’m dying for me to realize our time together is limited? Even after I’d heard them, I ran. What about all the time I’ve wasted? What about all the nights I left her? What the fuck was I thinking? I should have held her this tight and kept her this close from the moment I knew she owned my heart.
We all have to die, but it’s one of those things we choose to ignore because we don’t want to imagine life without the people that mean the most to us. But, the truth is, no matter if it’s in six months or sixty years, Saylor is going to die. So am I.
One day, I will wake up and she won’t be here, or she will wake up and I won’t be here. Knowing that I only have at most six months makes me want to give her what she desires even more. And that’s me. Because I am all she wants. I can feel it every time I touch her. I can hear it in every word she speaks and I can see it every time I look in her eyes.
If Saylor only has six months, then I will give her six months of my undivided attention. I won’t waste my time with fighting or ignoring her. I will make each moment count, just like I should have done weeks ago. I won’t be selfish. I’ll devote all my time to her and what she desires. Today we are alive, and I’m no longer afraid of losing her. I won’t have to live long without her anyway. Because when she dies, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’ll die too.