Christmas and Love Songs

Outside, winter swirled down, flaking white frosted pieces of hope and a forlorn love. The passers, snugged in their heavy coats, breathed leaving a diffuse trail of warmth in the freezing night. At least they were alive and they're happy with that... Happier than I was.

Inside, the dim light of the fireplace drew shadowy patterns on the wall I refused to decipher. The melody of some iconic song playing on the radio brought distant memories of that past love I wanted to remember but also urged to forget. The red wine tasted bittersweet, like the dreams I used to have.

That night I was alone and I didn't know if I wanted or in a gambling of destiny and the consequences of my actions brought me to this state. I decided to move to far away lands; my soul flew overseas trying out different things, like luck for example, and left a man behind playing a guitar in a plaza where kisses bloomed like flamboyant trees. Miguel was his name.

Here Christmas is white... White like the blank slate I said I would build my life now on. "To begin from scratch", I said. And I left him, guitar in hand, playing a song to me. Trailing his fingers on the thin strings of an instrument that cried my name. But I didn't want to listen, I only left.

I missed him. Damned I missed his voice singing in the plaza; singing in my bed. Whispering to my ear the sweetest phrases of love. His fingers, trailing my skin with delicate strokes making me gasp. Our breathing and moans joined in the rhythmical cadential song of plenitude.

I cried. There's no songs, no plazas, no guitars and no Miguel anymore!

I recalled with resignation, gulping the remnants of red wine in the glass when the doorbell rang, and that poem talking of ravens and passed-away loves clicked in my mind. I expected no one in that winter night. No one!

Empty glass in hand, I went on to check on who it could be. "I want no visitors", I mumbled, hesitating then to open the door.

I sighed as I turned the doorknob ready to dismiss whoever it was. Once it was finally opened and I looked out, more than a cold breeze made me shiver...

"Can I come in?" He asked me with his broken accent of gipsies and music. A crooked smile drew in his lips. That crooked smile I loved and ended with dimples in a scarce bearded face.  Miguel, guitar in hand stood by the door.

"Yes." Is all I said and let him pass. And the room filled with the scent of his cologne once again.

"How have you been?" He asked, his eyes locked with mine.

In that precise moment I felt time stopped for both of us.

"I've missed you", I said embracing Miguel. "Please, sing me one of those songs you used to."

Sitting on the sofa he sang of Neruda, of Becquer and Machado and I cried knowing I had betrayed the essence of our love. The man in front of me didn't cry, but with each song intoned he spoke to me telling me an undeniable truth; that I was ungrateful yet he didn't care.

Miguel then stopped singing and whispered to me "I love you". He leaned forward and kissed me with passion. His fingers softly traced my back from top to bottom, unzipping my dress. We laid on the sofa; our clothes scattered on the floor. Our bodies naked moved to the sensuous melody of desire making me feel complete.

The blaze in the fire cracked and glistened reflecting in scarlets and yellows on our bared skin. Outside, the Christmas carols faded in the distance singing of miracles of hope and love.

Story submitted for Romance Holiday Story Contest