The Mayflower

"The Mayflower" he said grinning from ear to ear, his eyes dancing with mischievous amusement. Today they were both in the kitchen. It was one of those extremely rare times they did something together. They didn't get round to doing much together these days. Hell they didn't get round to do anything together. Not even love making. If and when that eventually happened, it lost all trace of spontaneity. It almost felt like he couldn't wait till the end. On her own part, she rode him grudgingly. But somehow, today he was here with her. All boyish and smiling. She watched him struggling with the meat he'd offered to mince, literally shredding the whole chunk. Remind her to replace that mincer. Granted he was a total wreck considering his culinary skills but she couldn't get much more than this. That he was even here in the first place was a miracle. And that he appeared happy to be here, was twice that miracle. Hallelujah! The few times he'd joined her in the kitchen, times she could tick off the fingers of her one hand, she'd spent considerable time. Half of those trying to keep him from continuously helping himself to the fish she had just fried or guiding him through the peculiarities of the electric cooker and the remaining shooing him when he tried flirting with her, giving her the impression that he could take her there and then- stained apron, steaming food and all. She didn't doubt back then that he would. All in all, they'd had swell moments. Whatever it was had been special. It had been 'their special'. He had been happy then and she had laughed at his jokes. No mistaking she missed those times. Those times he would come home each night with a shopping bag and a smile. Those times they'd have sex twice in the Sitting room even before it struck Two. Those times he would text her from the office. Times he would send her a Card at her work place, Hollywood style. She missed having dinners with him. Missed Laughing with him without wondering when next she'd get the chance to. She missed him. God knows she does. The man who had taken her heart and her virginity and somehow had managed to keep the former. She yearned for this man who had all of a sudden turned total stranger. This man who now thought it was one job too much to show any sign of affection, however little. Him who used to jump at the slightest chance to express his feelings. For God's sake he wrote her poems! She remembered when he'd finally approached her at that Cafè back in School and had excused her friends. She remembered how queasy he'd looked. She could still hear her friends giggling behind her. She remembered everything. When he'd invited her to his room. How she'd practically guided his hands to her breasts. How he'd taken his time to explore every inch of her body, almost as if he worshipped her. How she'd stared into his timid eyes as they made love. How old school she'd thought he was at his delight in discovering she'd been a virgin. How baffling as well as intriguing the knowledge that it was equally his first time with a woman had been. Give him this, he'd definitely been an old stager when it came to his love making. What with the things he could do with his tongue.

"So. What do you think?"

His voice jarred into her drifting consciousness. It took her a couple seconds to realise he was talking to her. She looked at him wondering what in the world they'd been talking about anyway.

"Well"... She stalled. He looked expectantly at her, that sheepish grin still playing on his lips. He raised a quizzical brow and she mentally struggled to remember.

"I thought maybe a trip would do just fine. But if..." She was sure he'd pretty much said more but she couldn't really hear him above her own tumultuous thoughts. What's going on here? She needed a reality check. She hastily tried to collect her thoughts. Ok he'd suggested a trip. Check. But Where? Under that unasked question reared a burning one. She asked it right before she could stop herself.

"Does Mama approve?"

He froze. And time seemed to freeze with him. She braced herself. After what seemed like an eternity but was really nothing less than a heart beat, he pushed the meat he had somehow managed to her and she accepted it mutely. She crossed him and dumped the tray at the sink as he pulled a chair from the breakfast table and sat down however gloomily. While she washed the mutilated meat, pausing to cut them properly, she eyed him warily. He looked fragile the way he was sitting there, hunched over the furniture's frame and fingering the decorative piece. She felt sorry for him. Well almost. He once again became the man she'd fallen hopelessly in love with. He'd still retained those looks. His boy-band looks had been infamous back in school. Either he knew that or it was just a thing with him, but back then he had an uncanny way of holding your gaze and making you relatively aware of yourself and how beautiful he was. Not to mention that signature smile. But that young man and his gorgeous smiles had died six years ago. And this impostor? He'd promised. It wasn't her fault afterall. All the doctors had at least made that one fact clear. You'd think she'd consciously chosen not to. Yeah spiteful her!

Suddenly something in her snapped and she didn't want to spare him. She prodded him. "Well does She?" At that he sighed heavily, lifting and dropping his shoulders dramatically. He merely looked fixedly at the running water without answering her. That was when she realised she had been at the sink longer than was necessary. She quickly set the meat to boil, rinsed her hands and turned her attention to him. She knew when she had a ticket and this was her window so to speak to some level of explanation. Heaven knows she needed some answers. He wasn't readily this approachable. And now the odds seemed to be in her favour. For starters he looked defeated. Still he didn't answer her. He only just sat there looking beat and making that annoying tapping sound with his heels. She hated him suddenly. He was continuously avoiding her eyes; Obviously doing a bad job at it. Why hasn't he been there for her? She itched to ask him. There were loads of questions she needed answers to. She ached for his response. Talk to me! The words screamed in her head. He had failed in his promises. He had failed them both. He who had been her spine and pillar. He had been her strength when hers had failed her. He had held her up just so she could reach the sky. A little higher and she might have touched those brilliant stars. Yet now he had abandoned her mid-air and she had come crashing down. It had been easier when it was the two of them. Sure it was still hard. But they'd taken turns sharing the pain. Now she solely bore the brunt of it all with its weight nearly crushing her. And he couldn't even explain why he had left her to her plight? Damn you! She felt the emotions surging dangerously inside her. A mounting tempest. And as a precedent, she was overcome with that remote feeling. It engulfed her. She felt totally lost to reality. An alienation to this world. She remembered the one time she'd felt this way. The time she was staring at that mutilated body and those unseeing eyes. It were as if a part of her had deserted and the part that remained didn't respond to stimulus. Slowly she succumbed to this abyss. Ever so slowly she was swallowed by that deep void. She heard him call her name from a distant. His voice reaching her in bits of spooky echoes from the other end of a dark tunnel.Heard him rise and reach for her. All from a mile away. It was when he pulled her close and held her against him that she realised how close to him she really was. And gradually, she once again emerged from that deep black hole. And just in time. This contact was all it took for her to not break into a million pieces. Her senses immediately registered the all-too-familiar warmth of his embrace. Her brain instantly triggered reception throughout her body. The message was clear. This is genuine. Her consciousness was awash with golden memories. Her starved soul creaked with neglect. This invariably opened her floodgates. She fought the tears, biting down on her bottom lip. It was a futile attempt. They fell unabated coursing down her cheek. She'd had her fair share of crying. All those nights she cried quietly beside him cautious enough not to be audible. Those days she cried in the staff convenience at her office. Those embarrasing moments she'd cried in the passenger seat and caught the Uber driver staring at his rear view mirror stupified. Once she'd even pulled over and had a hearty cry. The tears had become a part of her so much that she'd almost come to see them as company, offering solace of some sort. But this was different. Now was different. He was holding her and she was crying. Unlike those tears which had comforted her, these tears spoke volumes of how much she'd been hurting. They were her heart-felt message to him, albeit liquefied and running down her face. She buried her face deeper into his chest as if by this singular act she'd leave a physical imprint on his chest, one that would constantly remind him how much she loved him. He needed to know. She really loved him. With all of her heart she loved him. And that made it a lot harder. Why couldn't she have it just right. Not perfect. Only some level of modest. It were as if she was created to live life on sufferance. Like someone or some force stronger than her didn't really want her here. Good Riddance!

She felt him tense as soon as a tear hit his arm. This made her smile in spite of herself. Talk about a tearful assault. He slipped his hand into her hair and with the other, trailed the wet sides of her face. She forced herself to look at his face. The lines were drawn at the edges and his eyes were strewn with obvious emotion. They seemed to bore deep, rooting the depts of her soul. He held her gaze unblinking. Love me she blinked at him. Love me. He laboured to breathe. When he did it came out raspy. He knew how much she had suffered. He knew how lonely she'd been. He knew how much she had needed him. He knew she desperately needed him to say something; needed them to talk. He knew all these things. He knew he'd neglected her. He felt sorry for her. His heart wrenched as he beheld the face of the woman he loved. The woman who had until recently become the centre of his universe. God why had he become unfeeling? He knew. The answer stared him dead in the face. But it wasn't any fault of hers. The tests had proved that disclaimer. And he was equally a healthy stallion. What then? His mother had a theory. He didn't believe in that load of crap. Still, he needed answers. For her sake. For their sakes. He loved this woman. Heaven knows he does. But he felt helpless. Totally out of his own wits. When exactly does a man need a miracle again? Truth be told he missed her. He outlined the corner of her lips with his hands and the resultant shudder excited him to no end. Framing her face between his hands, he lowered his lips into hers. His kiss was deep and his tongue was searching. She felt her entire being reacting to his touch. He was breathing heavily. He sucked at her lips as his hand cupped her left breast. The blood came rushing to her head. He guided his hands to her waist and in one swift motion, lifted her onto the breakfast table. She barely had time to breathe when he eased between her legs and kissed her all over. For no reason at all, a fresh batch of rogue tears stole away, detailing the length of her cheek to find its stop in their locked lips giving him in essence a literal taste of her feeling. He was ravenous the way he took her full lips. He ran his hand under her skirt and across her thigh. With his fingers he drew fiery patterns all over the inside of her thighs. She moaned in his mouth and spread her legs to allow him better room. Slowly he ran his fingers upwards. The singular movement drove her almost to tipping point. And then he stopped just short of her pelvis. She groaned her disapproval and when he made no further attempts, she grudgingly opened her eyes. Instantly, she saw why. The reason was standing at the door, hands on either sides of her tiny waist, a sullen look on her face. "I wanted a drink" she ventured and without waiting for a reply swaggered into the kitchen. He helped her down from her perch and she hurried off to the stove where her meat sat burning. She turned the heat down and glanced ruefully at him. He smiled at her instead, shrugging in an off-hand fashion. The distraction made a show of retrieving a bottled water from the fridge. Half way to the door she turned, the sullen look in place once again. "And mom wanted to know if we're having lunch at all. It's nearly four o' clock". And she was gone, deliberately leaving the door wide open. She glanced at the clock. Eight past Four it read. One of the perks of having him in the kitchen she mused. He watched her with amusement as she hurried over the remainder of whatever it was she was cooking. He remebered he always loved watching her cook. It was odd how much had passed between them. He knew he'd made her happy. There was that shimmer in her eyes. It hadn't always been there. Not since...Well you know. He hadn't really meant to hurt her so. He'd been cornered. He knew that wasn't an excuse. But it was the closest he could muster. He'd needed an excuse to keep him sane. To keep him from breaking apart. Especially on such occasions as those nights she'd 'not-so-quietly-afterall' sobbed endlessly beside him. He'd definitely needed an excuse then to remain resolute. He'd be damned if it didn't take up all of his strength. So far he had to admit, his resolve had worn out with time. The fleeting years had taken a heavy toll on his courage. He couldn't keep it up. Didn't want to. It was excruciating and draining. He wanted his life back. And that included her. I mean she'd always been part of it from the onset. He wasn't going to try and duck out of it anymore. Seeing how happy she was at this little time together he was willing to brave it with her. At the very worst sit it out. On fairer ground, they'd do those paper work. His family would have to come to terms with his decision. It was his life afterall. He would live as he deemed fit. It was about time he fixed things up. He was already taking the first step in refurbishing his life. It was in dire need of a major restructuring. Which was why he'd planned this trip in the first place. And speaking of which; He still didn't remember if she'd consented.