Cherries

Her long dark hair flowed down her thinly covered back, past the hem of my shirt she had slipped on. The ends swished in time with the hard snapping sound that resounded through the kitchen. She was cutting apples and placing the slices on empty plates. As she did so, I watched her silently from the doorway.

The timer above the counter went off and she turned to the stove quickly, turning the heat down. She took the lid off the large sauce pan which unleashed a mess of steam. She stirred at it with rigor before setting the wooden spoon back on the counter and recovering the sauce. She went back to slicing the apples, humming a song to herself.

--

"What." It was a statement, not a question. Richard still answered me anyway.

"You're thinking about her," he stated. There was something in his voice that I can quite put a finger on but it's something like pity or confusion.

I took in a large breath, waited, and then let it out. Richard has always been a nice person to take walks with; he's patient. I looked at Richard, my hands in my pockets. "I always think about her."

Richard smiled because even though it didn't make sense to him, he understood. Richard is like that.

--

It wasn't that jerky, pant filled sex that had and will and have experience. It was more breathy and fluid. She didn't jerk up with pleasure, she arched into me just like I didn't thrust, I rolled my hips the right way.

After, her body spilled into the bed below us and I sunk next to her. I traced a line down her side and she shivered. Her fingers melted into mine and that was the way we slipped into slumber with the sunset.

--

Chicken cranberry lasagna. There was cheese, carrots, sweet peas, corn, and, obviously, chicken and cranberries. By itself it was sweet and tangy but with the apple, it was sweet and tangy and crunchy.

We talked about hiking and cars and told stories about high school. While we ate breakfast, the sun shined down over my backyard just like it always did in the middle of fall at noon. The only thing that could possibly ruin this moment did.

--

"Why must you always order salad?" Marni asked us, a hand on her hip. Marni was probably Richard's soul mate. They were perfect for each other in the way that they are meant for no one else; they're stuck together but they pretend they aren't.

Richard handed her our menus and smiled. "You don't expect us to order anything else."

When she walked away, Richard sighed. I slid him a napkin. He looked at it and smiled like he always did.

--

I was about to wake her. Instead, I watched her bare body pulse with breath. In the moonlight, her skin was pure and unmarked. She was a resting angel in my bed.

For purely selfish reasons, I touched her hip. I touched her thigh. I touched her and she shuddered. Her body, in revenge, took my breath away at the sight.

--

Her cell phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and then at me. I blinked and stood. We followed each other to my bedroom and found her clothes. We searched slowly for her keys and even slower for her phone which had gotten lost in the search. When we finally gathered all her belongings, I had wished she brought more things.

She stood in front of me, in front of my house with me, and didn't say a word. She unhooked the pendant from her neck and pressed it into my hand. It was the last memory of her sister. "Why?" I asked her.

"You make me forget her."

I took off my hat and placed it on her head. "I want to remember."

--

I walk down this street at least once every week. It never changes and I despise that but it reminds me that change isn't forever.

"Jerome!" a woman yelled. Cherries.

The woman was a few feet from me wearing a faded fedora. I walked to her in haste and touched her shoulder. She looked at me, a little startled. "Is your name Nathalie?"

"I- yes, why?" She was confused.

I hesitated. "Thank you." I walked back down the street in the direction I came.