my light, my darkness

2

I sit, my hand hovering over the number 8, the last digit in her beautiful number, even her phone number is elegant. Almost as elegant as her.

I decide not too, hanging up my phone and losing my progress of what numbers I typed in.

Suddenly I have some other things I need to do. I need to fold my laundry, water my plants, dust everything down and make my bed, the one in which I'm sitting on.

But that doesn't matter if I can hear her voice.

"Hello?"  A polite, silky soft voice answers on the other end, I miss her voice and her lips and her legs, definitely what's in between them.

Laurie.

"Hello?"

"Salut." I whisper down the other side.

"Qui est-ce?" Her French is shitty, it always has been. It always will be, shitty. But its a lot better, considering before if I said to her,

Salut.

She would say,

English please, I love you French woman, but please English as much as possible.

And it would charm the socks off my feet, I would immediately say,

Pourquoi tu ne me baises pas? si vous voulez m'orienter.

And she would complain and we would laugh and laugh for hours on hours.

This time, I hang up. Her voice is enough.I pleasure myself until I burst and scream and cream and think of her and only her for hours and hours and always think about her.

~~

The information on the back of the card, the wedding is in exactly 2 days, I'll fly out with Sebastian tomorrow and then sleep as soon as I get to the hotel, get ready for the wedding, arrive late, sit at the back, only listening to Laurie's voice and watching her lips,  Then leaving early and booking my flight on the cab back from the church, coming back to France.

~~

The next day came fast, I tidy my house and look around my room, making sure I've packed all I need for this one day away, I phone Sebastian. I have to pick him up from his house and he said we can catch the same flight.

I grab my coat off the coat hanger, it makes me upset to see that the only coat on the hanger is mine, lonely by itself. Like me. In this big house, in the prime of my life I'm alone in this hand me down mansion.

I can't help but question my actions, I was so so young but I acted like I was so mature and intelligent, when really I could barely speak English, now I realise my mistakes.

My foot hits the pedal nine times harder than I normally do, I slick my hair back and tuck the loose ends behind my ears, I look dirty and tired and I smell like cigarettes, which isn't different than before, still no wrinkles I'm not old. I'm still young but feel more mature than ever. Which I guess is true.

My beat down car is decaying, as it's from the late 50s, it's a mint green make from 57, it's a beautiful car and I've always dreamed about owning it.

~~

In the 90's, I was 19 and dancing and flirting with every person I met, in the daylight and moonlight. I would earn for Laurie all day and then come in minutes before her and treat her like my God. I would go to the bathroom and cry if she said no to fucking me after I come in after a day waiting to do something to her.

I thought I was living the best life, at night I would watch doctors and policemen through the body length window Laurie owned from one of the highest floors of her apartment. I would always think,