I stood on the stoop, darkness a shroud that comforted me, the steady hum of cars and trucks passing on the interstate just a half of a mile away. The cigarette dangled between my lips as I leaned back against the front door. I could feel the presence just on the other side of the door, suffocating, threatening to pull me in and break me. I didn't want to go back in. Not yet. I inhaled and the end of the cigarette glowed brightly in the dark. I saw myself as someone might see me passing by on the sidewalk, glancing up to my house at that time, seeing only my face revealed by the glow of the cigarette, and wondered what they would see. My face would be dimly lit, mostly still covered in shadows. My nose, my cheeks, my forehead, and perhaps my eyes would be revealed in a dull, red light. Would the person see that my eyes were wet? Probably not. Would the light on my face shimmer as my lips trembled? Perhaps.
I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and held my arms against my body, feeling a chill in the seventy-degree night. I lifted the cigarette from my lips and took a deep breath of air, trying to push down the heaviness that lodged in my chest, and the breath turned into a sigh, making me tremble again. I dropped my head and laughed to myself. It sounded pitiful and a bit crazy, standing there, laughing at myself, when nothing was funny. This definitely wasn't funny. But I laughed again anyway and I slid my hand across my face and I pushed the laughter back down. I shook my head, a depressed smile across my lips, and stuck the cigarette between my lips to inhale again.
That's when I saw her. I don't know where she came from. She was just there.
She stood perfectly still, facing me, standing on the sidewalk, her face and body obscured by the glow and smoke of the cigarette, and I thought for an instant of what I looked like to her right then, probably like some half-crazed maniac, laughing to himself, looking miserable, standing in the doorway.
Then, I pulled the cigarette from my lips, blew out the smoke, and I could see her better, though I can't describe her. Was her hair blonde or brown or red? Was she tall or short? It didn't matter. She was all of those things. She was none of them. She was everything. And she was nothing. She was just beautiful and I can't find the words to describe her.
I stood, frozen, one hand shoved into a pocket, the other dangling at my side with the smoking cigarette hanging from between two fingers, as she stood staring back at me, her body perfectly still. The wind drifted between us and I heard the leaves rustling, scraping across the dry ground, dim voices far down the street, a dog barking somewhere in a yard far behind me, and it was all nothing, noises from some other world that didn't matter where I stood, that couldn't touch me.
I wanted to say something, but I couldn't. My body was frozen and all I could do was breathe, feeling that heaviness rise in my chest, trying to suffocate me, and she stared back at me and I knew that she knew. Her eyes said it, said everything that needed to be said, and I saw the smile across her lips, soothing and warm, and the heaviness fell away. I took a breath, deep into my stomach, and it didn't hurt, my throat didn't constrict to close it off, and for the first time in a long time I felt my body relax.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the door, forgetting what lie on the other side, feeling every muscle in my body loosen, as a gentle calm passed under my skin, and I sighed, helpless in its grasp, feeling it slide across my skull, my thoughts dimming to black, the thoughts that tormented me every minute of every day vanished, and I was left with a serenity I hadn't felt in years. I couldn't help but smile.
I lifted my head and opened my eyes to see her, but she had already turned away and was walking down the sidewalk. I felt my heart leap into my throat and my cigarette dropped to the porch as I walked down the steps to chase after her.
I didn't think. I just moved, drawn to her by an invisible leash, and I had no choice but to follow her. I hurried after her until I was only a few steps behind her and I slowed down to her pace, not wanting to overtake her, just wanting to follow her, to watch her, to just be near her. It never occurred to me why I followed her. I just knew I needed to.
I could smell her as she walked, her perfume drifting back towards me, seeming to slither around my skin and pull me towards her. Her clothes rustled quietly as she moved, her pumps clicking softly against the cement, and I imagined that I could hear her breathe, her breath whistling softly between her lips. The image of her lips parted squirmed into my gut and I wanted to kiss her, grab her arm, turn her around, and press my lips to her lips, taste her on my mouth, but I didn't. I couldn't. I could only follow.
The homes, windows lit with the flashing light of televisions, and the people talking softly on their porches, were images from a dream, wafting by like smoke, and only she was solid, the only thing in this world.
I don't know how long we walked. It could have been hours. It could have been minutes. She turned towards a house and walked up the driveway to the sidewalk. I followed her, noticing the house, but not seeing it, my eyes focused on her as she stopped at the front door and opened it. I stood on her sidewalk, several feet away, and watched as she stepped into the house, her head turned back, and she looked at me quickly, a smile on her lips, and then she disappeared into the darkness of the house, leaving the door open.
I didn't hesitate. I walked into the house and closed the door. Light from outside seeped through the windows, dimly illuminating the almost empty house. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, pounding painfully hard. My stomach was tight. My body shook. I knew it was the feeling of anticipation, a feeling that had long ago died and had come back to overwhelm me in a quiet rage.
I breathed deeply, smelling her, and I moved forward into the house, the wooden floor creaking softly under my steps. I walked down the hallway, following where I knew she had gone, though I hadn't seen her. I could see the flickering of candlelight from a bedroom, the only open door in the hallway. I heard the rustling of fabric as I moved forward. I swallowed hard, feeling my skin prickle like static electricity was building, making my hairs stand on end.
I approached the open door, raised my hand to touch the frame, and turned into the doorway. The ball of tension gripping my stomach and the slick electricity crackling over my skin sank lower into my groin and blossomed into a dark, warm heat when I saw her lying on the bed, naked, her body stretched out on her back, her arms behind her to hold her upper body tilted up, her legs parted slightly, one leg stretched out, the other bent up, her knee pointed to the ceiling, and the candlelight flickered over her skin, the shadows of her curves growing and shrinking with the flickering light.
