The Bitter Love-Song II

1993

He could feel her knee knock against the wood of the table as she stared at him, still unable to speak. She seemed terrified. Again, the unexpected threw him off. His finger once more traced over her palm, and finally, she began to relax. He had told her that was his line. The fractured creases of all her other lovers before finally coming to one fine point as it journeyed across the top of her hand... till the end. That was him, or at least he had wanted it to be. Briefly, she closed her fingers around his as they remembered together until her reality tore her away, and she withdrew. Athina's body always seemed to react to him first, mind following slightly after, finally making the decisions.

"What can it hurt? It's just words, A." He waited patiently for her brain to catch up to what her body had already decided.

"Just words?" But the words he left her with last time nearly broke her.

"Just words... unless..."

"No." That familiar phrase gulped from her throat forcefully. Though he noticed a slight shift as she fought back the yes of a nod. "You've got five minutes."

"Awww, you know it's never taken just five minutes." He would make another play. Baritone was dipping, trying to distract her, hoping she wouldn't be able to read the anxiousness that poured beneath his bravado.

"Fine... I'll give you six." She smirked, raising the stakes of his boldness with her own. "You remember the way?" Nonchalantly, she pointed to the stairs that lay tucked in the far corner of her bookshop. The bronze curve of the treads fading into the brick of the surrounding walls. They seemed almost transparent, overshadowed by the size of the store around it. Without another word, his chair scooted back, and he was gone. The brightness of his coat moved through the space like a ghost, slinking past customers determined to make it to her door before she could change her mind. Athina steadied herself as she wiped up the coffee that had been spilled. He was back. After four long years, he was back.

"Hey Thina, you okay, you know him or something?" The blonde waitress made her way over to the now empty table. She had worked for Athina for almost two years and had never once seen her shaken. Watching as she concentrated on the small pool of brown liquid that scattered across the surface, her boss seemed to be avoiding it, the rag barely catching the edges... she was stalling. Shook to the core, trying to compose herself and her thoughts.

"Just someone I didn't think I'd see again." Glancing at the stairs, she watched as he stilled his frame halfway up, realizing she wasn't following but refusing to come back down.

"Well, if he looks half as good as he smells, at least you get one more peek, right?"

Though his face dotted her record shop, it seemed to pale to the form that was just seated in front of her. "Yeah... maybe." Staring out the window, she searched for the greenery just beyond the asphalt and concrete jungle that surrounded them.

"You want me to call?" Taking the rag and coffee pot from Athina, it gave her no other excuse to stay.

"Yeah, gimme a call, will you." Untying the strings of her apron, she dried her hands against her denim pockets. Years before she would play out scenarios, rehearsing almost daily their lines, they had all been forgotten, lost to the veracity of time. Each one now refusing to bubble to the surface. She didn't know what to do, what to say. She never thought she would see him again; finding so much comfort in those lies.

Kid refused to look back, but the second he felt the gentle vibrations of her steps carrying up the case, he continued. Her feet always lay silent on the metal behind his boots as they journeyed up the flight together. He often thought she was following his lead but realized in that moment it was her pushing their movement forward. Both of them making it to the landing he couldn't find the resolve to look at her, like Orpheus he was afraid she would disappear if he turned. Suddenly, feeling her body shift, her arm snaked around his waist, getting lost within the cashmere layers of his coat. Pulling her body tighter against his, her fingers grazed through the opened buttons of his shirt. Giving a little gasp brought a smile to his lips... still her favorite.

"The door, Kid." She stuttered, barely able to breathe, their bodies folding into each other at the top of the stairs against the doorframe. She was just trying to open the door. His eagerness to touch her erased away any rational thought. Loosening his grip, he watched as her fingers roamed for a second before pulling away. With a key, she turned the knob and let it slowly unhitch, waiting for him to slip through.

"Still the same?" He questioned her in disbelief. He couldn't believe that as big as Between the Lines was, she still lived in the cracker box attic of an apartment. Pressing lightly on the panel revealed, of course, he was wrong. As her store expanded, so did her living quarters. Finally, about the size of a regular house, it still had the same cheery curiosity shop look, with books stacked in corners. Windows inlaid with colored glass, so the sun sparkled over the honey-colored wooden floors. The Victorian couch they had fucked on countless times tucked away in the corner like a forgotten dream, replaced with trendy flashier seating. Walking through he remembered her so young and new. The memory of the beautiful raspiness catching her voice as she softly whispered poetry in his ear, hands trailing over the edges of his body. Hearing the door click behind him his attention was brought back to the present.

"Why are you here Kid?" Athina perched herself on the back of the couch. The thickness of her thigh peeking from the sheared threads of her jeans as she leaned over nervously pulling at the chain on a side table lamp. The flashing on and off nervously replicating her agitated heartbeat. There was so much to say she didn't know where to start, hoping nothing would be said at all and he'd just as easily disappear out her window.

"You finally turning your lights on huh?" Smiling brightly, he eased himself into the conversation. The romanticism of her burning candles within the darkness still gripped him. Every memory bathed in the softness of a golden glow. The harshness of an incandescent bulb seemed so jarring, though the depth of her wide eyes danced beautifully against the flashes.

"Well, at the time I had a house guest who didn't pay his fair share." Tucking a defiant curl behind her ear she let the slightest curve find her lips.

'You sayin' I overstayed my welcome?"

"Never." The weeks they had spent together, the refuge they had found within her apartment... within each other, she would have given anything to have those moments again. All her memories tainted by regret. "You just skipped town before I could collect rent is all." The hurt that lingered unexpectedly began to find its way forward.

"So, your shitty lil shop ain't so shitty anymore?" As soon as those words left him, he knew they were the wrong ones. But just like the first time, he couldn't put them back in, reopening an old sore to see if it still bled.

"Really??" She said with a huff, after all this time that was his lead in. When he had said that so many years ago it has literally broke her into a million pieces. "Typical Kid, right? First you wanna fuck me and then you wanna tell me how shitty my life is." Her arms crossed against her building a wall. "Some things never change, huh?"

"I just... that's not what I meant... you seem to be doing very well is all." He stumbled trying to find a band aid to fix the gaping wound they both were creating. "Your old store was nice... unexpected... but nice."

"It was a hole, Kid." She rolled her eyes as he tried to cover his words, the damage already done.

Stepping closer to the couch his voice lowered. "I liked that hole; it was a good hole." His lustful wordplay grabbed her attention instantly as it always had, even before she kept his company.

"It was a great hole."

"Yes." The word left him in one breath as he smiled, his eyes widening. That hole would be his favorite. "So, you finally got your record shop?" They had often whispered their secrets for the future. Always half heartedly listening because he only wanted one future for her. But she had built her own dream without him.

"Fuck yes, I did." Her smile beamed as she tilted her chin at him. "Bought that asshole out a couple years ago. He had a shit attitude and an even shittier taste in music." She had feuded with the owner plenty. "You know, we sell more in a day than he ever could in a month, and I get to play my music as loud as I want and ain't no one gonna yell at me about it." Her confidence, drive and determination had always excited Kid. As the ambition poured off of her as she spoke, he had to look away. It took every ounce of willpower he had to not instantly grab at her as he had outside the door.

"You hiring?"

"Why, your label drop you again?" The haughtiness in her laughter struck deep, taunting him as it always had, rejection, disappointment colored the bright cheery tone.

"Ouch. Did that feel good?" Her words struck... payback.

"No... sorry." She shifted awkwardly... any confidence she once found began to faulter.

They smiled; they flirted as they both bled out in front of each other. Trying not to call attention to the pain they kept inflicting. Uncovering and then quickly covering old wounds as if they still didn't hurt. Both of them having questions, both of them having answers, yet both still refused to expose them. Their egos too bruised and fragile. So, they pretended, tension rising not knowing the outcome. Trying to change the mood Kid slinked over to her bookcase. His body replicating the exact movements he had years before.

"Do you still write in your journals?" Nimble fingers glided delicately over the rainbow of leather bindings that held the life of a girl he loved.

Looking up to him her heart stopped briefly. It was as if the past and present collided in the same space. She had often replayed him in that exact spot and now there he actually stood. "No Kid not journals. Not anymore. Not since..." Her words faded trailing off at the memory.

Grabbing a bright orange spine, he flipped through, remembering the fluid swirls of her writing. Even as a young teenager she had been so precise. Noticing the torn edges of paper, he knew exactly what was missing, him... the entries now a piece of the journal he hid away. Reshelving the book he noticed her life had stopped at the blue one he had found abandoned in a puddle. Reading over her words so often the red ribbon used as it's marker had frayed under his fingers.

"You still got your bike?" The trivial conversation continued, desperately searching for the memory of himself in a space he used to occupy.

"No, do you?"

"Somewhere... You still smoke?" He had always remembered the sweetness of the tobacco as it lingered on her lips, he had hated it. It was the same brand Lisa smoked, and every kiss reminded him of his failure.

"No, Kid it got too expensive." The two weeks they had spent holed up together, she barely had enough coin for a stick of gum let alone a pack of cigarettes. Never picking them up again after that, besides she only smoked when she was nervous... and he had constantly seemed to make her nervous.

"What about my cross?"

"Why does it matter? Looks like you got a new one anyway." Pointing to the new symbol he hung around his neck. She'd never tell him but the idea of replacing someone else's symbol with his own seemed so powerful. Athina had loved that symbol, loved how the metal on his bike would etch it into her skin as he pressed her roughly against it. How he had carved it into the wood of her display case, forever a piece of her.

"I had to; some girl I knew stole it." Knowing his words would draw her gaze back to him, his tongue reached out to bring in his bottom lip through his teeth. Still so easy to entertain her.

"Hey, you gave it to me." Long ago she had loved this game. His words so acerbic as he spoke to her, usually debunking his lies within seconds. He would draw her in so easily always wanting to be right, wanting to prove to him he was wrong.

"To borrow, but you left with it. You still got it?"

"You still got my coat?" Raising the stakes of his fallacy, she included her own.

"You mean my coat... no, not anymore." With that truth the pieces fell... he watched as any fire that began was doused, washed away by the familiarity of sadness.

"Ohh... makes since... it was ripped anyway." She was devastated, of course he wouldn't have kept it, it was nothing. She clung to all of their pieces hoping to make the memories last. He was worth remembering, she doubted she was for him. "Your new ones nice... does it have stronger threads?"

"You wanna try it, and see?"

"No, Kid." Again, each no twisted in him as it had years before. He couldn't stand that word, especially from her. But it fell from her lips so easily, each one a stone in the wall she was creating against him. "Why are you here?" Her question again went unanswered.

Standing next to her old coat rack he took off his hat and held it in his hand pausing a moment to tussle his fingers through his hair, bringing to life the volume that once lay flat under his hat. Unwrapping the rest of his layers like a gift to her. He was gorgeous as always. His style had changed over the years. His casual slinky black and white oversized tunics replaced with a more custom tailored sexy. He was more glam than the night he had taken her to the museum. White button-up shirt tied in a knot, high waisted pants showing a sliver of his golden skin. His hair style tremendously impeccable in curls but tied around his forehead a scarf, making it seem effortless. The whole ensemble screamed fuck me and she was sure that was exactly what he wanted her to be thinking. Throwing her off guard by the fresh floral scent he always wore, his wide eyes lined thick and perfect, never left hers. Wanting to witness every emotion that played over her face. Heels laying heavy on her wooden floors, with every step her heartbeat quicker.

"Ohh, God." She moaned quietly looking for strength.

"Well, that's what got us in trouble the first time." He smiled mischievously making a nod to the first time he met her, ass against glass and his head buried deep between her thick thighs.

"No, you got us in trouble." Her finger pointed out, but his body never stopped moving towards her. Gently nudging his chest, the rest joined briefly as her fingertips reminisced with the fur that lined his warm frame.

"Well, you let me." Placing his body between her thighs... it felt like home, the need for her never truly going away no matter how many he tried to replace her with. An audible sigh left them both as they realized neither was going to push away. Still wanting her closer his fingers tore through the ripped strands that barely covered the roundness perched on the couch, finally making contact with her skin he was content.

"Oh, yeah I did." That was never one of her regrets.

"You broke my heart you know." Those words left him easy, unaffected as if he was talking about the weather.

"Yeah, well you broke my house." He watched as that terrible memory played off her.

"There were things I never got a chance to say... I never got to."

"Kid the message you left I understood it loud and clear." She hadn't played the game like he wanted so he decided to destroy everything. He had left her house devastated, taking every piece of himself with him as if to erase his memory from her life. The little space he had occupied for months left in shambles a reflection of them. She had left her own message too, the purple journal he had given her left in the doorway as an offering to the ruin of what they could have been. But it was his turn... not hers... not yet.

"Listen I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You're sorry? She questioned softly she had repeated those words to him in silent prayer almost daily trying to atone for her mistakes. They seemed so alien falling from his perfect lips and not her own.

"Yeah. I know I never said it but I'm sorry. Sorry for a lot of things." He had never apologized for anything but the way he had left her was one regret that never seemed to escape him.

Any tenderness he once had eviscerated as he found exactly what he came for. Proof, proof that she still felt the same about him. Wringing his fingers around a familiar delicate gold chain that encircled her neck. Like a lure, he pulled out his cross, that had been hidden behind the buttons of her collar.

"Thought you said you didn't have it?" Those words dripped from his lips in arrogance as he tried to meet her gaze. 'Liar', he mouthed as she finally found the nerve to look at him.

"You never listen, do you? I said you got a new one. I never said I still didn't have it." She shifted uncomfortably. All their quick-witted conversation ended abruptly as her vulnerable reality began to show. Over the years she had been able to pretend... lie to herself about him, about them. Now as he perched between her thighs, she was afraid she would lose herself again as she had done so many years before.

"It's been four years Athina." Of course, he refused to acknowledge or reveal the purple journal in his breast pocket or that he had just thrown out their coat hours before. All that mattered to him in that moment was that she still remembered, she still held on to a piece of what they were. The only piece he thought he had left behind.

"I'm well aware of how long it's been." She watched as he fluidly flipped the pendant over his palm. His face set, satisfied, smug, she remembered that look all too well. It seemed he just found the winning move but wasn't yet ready to make his play. "It's all you left me okay... this and..." Biting her lip she stopped her words from leaving. Trying to cover her actions she pointed to the graffiti he left scrawled across her walls. Those words so filled with anger; they still haunted her.

"But you still wear it." He was desperately trying to hold on to his upper hand. Her eyes held so much sadness, the regret, and the pain he had known well, it began to chip away any victory he had once felt.

"As a reminder."

"Of me?" Again, he would pry trying to find the truth. As always, her body wanted him, but he wanted all of her. He wondered if she had once actually loved him... after everything if she could still love him.

"Of my mistakes." And over the last four years she had made plenty.

"If I was such a mistake, then give it back."

"I didn't say you were the mistake." Rolling her eyes in frustration she could never understand his ego. How after all this time those were the cards he led with, though they were the ones she lost to the first time. "You know what, fuck it." She was done with their reminiscing, though she refused to push him off her. The comfort found within him still so palpable, and she was going to take every second she could, not knowing how long she would have him. "You want it, you take it. I don't need your dramatic bullshit." Struggling to find the clasp, though she easily could have slid it off, she continued her one-sided argument. "Still so unbelievably petty. If you wanted it... you could have written, you could have called, but of course you don't know how to do that, do you?" Looking up to him she stabbed blindly with her words, wanting to make sure he was aware of his own failures. "You have to make a spectacle out of everything don't you, all of it always a fuckin game."

He watched in horror as she was spiraling in her anger, her frustration. He had made a mistake, a lighthearted jab as they sparred had touched something a lot deeper than he had expected. "Hey... hey." He tried to still her hands and bring the focus back to him. "Athina." Her name left him in a deep flutter, trying to soothe her and bring her attention away from herself and the thoughts that burst to the surface infuriated. She had played over these emotions a million times before and was running on autopilot trying to get the worst parts over. Again, the depth of his voice called her name hoping to pull her out of her fury. She had wanted a fight, but he wasn't willing to give it to her, which made her even more anxious.

With a staggering breath she exhaled and was able to meet his gaze. "What?" She spat with so much force her chest bounced off his in a threat.

"It was a joke... a joke." He pleaded, trying to convince her. "I just... it's nice to still be a part of you after all these years."

"Always." Athina whispered in defeat. No matter how much she tried to move on, he had always seemed to be there, reminding her.

"It's yours, it's been yours, before I even gave it to you." He remembered the gold of the metal glinting against her skin. How he would watch the edges glide across her body as he arched above. Those moments seemed transcendent to him. Her mind, her body so divinely created, he had once selfishly thought made just for him. Tucking the pendant back underneath her collar, he smoothed the chain behind the opened buttons of her top. The tip of a wayward finger gently nudged the thin mesh that covered her breast. Her breath hitched at his movement, her body hoping he would go farther but her mind terrified of the outcome. In realization he jerked back his hand quickly and apologized.

"It's okay." Folding back the buttonholes her fingers followed behind where he just left as if to remember his touch.

"You keep it. It looked better on you anyway. Besides... that's not why I'm here." Leaning down he lightly touched his forehead against hers. Afraid to push her, afraid she would unravel again as she just did, losing any ground he thought he regained. He had expertly played the victim to himself for years, now standing in front of her, he recognized he made mistakes too.

"Then why are you here Kid? What do you want?" She wasn't asking a rhetorical question, being self-deprecating or obtuse. She didn't understand why he had suddenly shown up on her doorstep after four years of complete silence.

But to him the answer was so clear. He had only ever wanted one thing... her. Not the phantom of the girl she used to be years before, or the daydream of a lover's past. Her, the woman as she stood before him now. The moment he saw her he knew he still loved her, hoped she still loved him. This time there were no cheat sheets, no codes to help him unlock who she was. She was a mystery he wanted to unravel all over again. He couldn't grasp how she couldn't see he still wanted her, blinded by her own insecurities. Athina had always known her worth, but forever saw him out of her price range. He didn't know what words to use to tell her, to prove to her that he wanted her, that he was sorry for all the destruction, the damage he caused. That he would do anything to heal the great chasm that stood between them. In that moment, as he had always done instead of using his words, his body would do the job, hoping she would see, hoping she would finally understand. Their natural state had always been body against body and he had foolishly thought words would work this time. Reaching down his lips met hers so sweetly, he hoped she wouldn't pull away.

As always, she accepted everything his mouth offered, oblivious to the phone that began to scream in the distance. Her body melted into him, knowing once he released, she would have to answer for so much. Four years of fear had passed between them, four years of knowing this day would eventually come. Four years of excuses she made for herself to herself, four years of lies... four years of knowing the truth would have to be told. But in that moment beneath his lips everything faded away. Nothing mattered but the pressing warmth of his skin, the softness of his tongue as it rolled over hers. She became again that girl waiting by the window. Both reliving a fading memory they didn't notice the click of the door handle.

"Mommy!"

The Bitter Love-Song II

No, I shall not say 'this is why I praise you--
Because you say such wise things, or such foolish. . .'
You would not have me say what you know better?
Let me instead be silent, only saying--:
My childhood lives in me--or half-lives, rather--
And, if I close my eyes cool chords of music
Flow up to me . . . long chords of wind and sunlight. . . .
Shadows of intricate vines on sunlit walls,
Deep bells beating, with aeons of blue between them,
Grass blades leagues apart with worlds between them,
Walls rushing up to heaven with stars upon them. . .
I lay in my bed and through the tall night window
Saw the green lightning plunging among the clouds,
And heard the harsh rain storm at the panes and roof. . . .
How should I know--how should I now remember--
What half-dreamed great wings curved and sang above me?
What wings like swords? What eyes with the dread night in them?

Conrad Potter Aiken