Status: New
If I Look Back
#9
At 7:15, I knock gently on Lilly’s door. I hear her call out from inside the flat and I can only assume that she said the door is open and that she’s currently brushing her teeth. I make my way in and lean in the bathroom doorway while she finishes.
We’re matching (this happens more often than I care to admit). I make a joke about one of us needing to change but she isn’t interested in my joke. I now immediately know what kind of mood she’ll be in tonight. Lilly is always kind but is sometimes sharp in her replies. Despite the bit of chill in her mood, she looks lovely as always.
Her clothes are casual and comfortable and I know the t-shirt is one of her favorites. Her hair is pulled back into its usual ponytail but there’s a French braid on the right side. Her make up is her usual rosy cheeks with mascara and chapstick.
I’ve memorized more of her than I care to admit. I know that she always wears the same watch, a small band on her right ring finger and three diamond studs in each ear. I know the faces she makes to accompany different emotions. I know the sounds she makes when she’s upset, frustrated, amused, etc. But there are definitely expressions and sounds I’d still like to learn about.
She grumbles about my motorbike as we prepare to leave and I know that she really does dislike riding on it. Why she continues to get on it is beyond me but I can’t deny how much I love the feeling of her arms around my waist.
We park the bike and make our way to the theatre. She’s checking emails on her phone so I bump her with my elbow. She makes her little grunt/snort noise meant to let me know that she’s not amused but doesn’t look up from her phone.
I bump her again with my hip and this time she puts her phone away and informs me that I’m behaving like a primary school child with a crush.
I blush and blurt out a vague inclination that I do like her before my brain can process that I shouldn’t. But when she informs me that she’s going to behave like a primary school child with a crush too and grabs my hand, I am glad my mouth spoke before I thought.
I tangle my fingers with hers and am surprised by how well her tiny little hand fits in mine. She swings our hands and I can see that she is smiling.
She folds her legs under her in the theatre seat, grabs her water bottle and lifts up the arm rest that had separated us. She leans a bit towards me and grabs my hand again. I can actually see the excitement in her face for the movie and am completely overcome with feelings I don’t want to define.
While waiting for the movie to begin, we chat quietly about our days and she studies the crowd. She people watches and I watch her. I look down at her hand in mine and notice that her nails are painted a pale, nude color. They are perfectly shaped and flawlessly painted.
She is in awe during the entire film. She gasps at all the right moments and tears up several times. During the scenes showing Snape’s love for Lilly, my Lilly covers her mouth with her hand and leans back against me. She dries her eyes on the back of her hand.
She is sad but happy when it’s over and she gently holds my hand all the way back to the bike.
We do our usual take away and watch reruns of Little Britain. But the discussion turns to age and life expectations. I am shocked when she tells me that she’s turning 26. She’s practically a child but acts with grace beyond her age.
When she admits that she believed she’d be married by now, I have to wonder if there was someone she thought she’d be married too. I always thought I would marry Olivia and have a bunch of children. I wonder who he was and why it didn’t work.
She manages to turn the conversation to lighter but related subject matter by telling me what she’s named her non-existent dogs and telling me about her godson in Sweden. I tell her about my godchildren and the kids of my closest friends.
Eventually, she tidies up despite my insistence that she let me help. In the struggle to be the one cleaning, I accidently pin her against the counter. She looks up at me with a look I’ve never seen before gently pulling the collar of my shirt, bringing me closer to her.
She looks me in the eye and kisses me. She is warm and I feel the heat flow through me all the way to my fingers and toes. I am overwhelmed by the smell of her hair and perfume and the taste of her mouth.
Holding her and kissing her, I know it’s over. She’s won.
She falls asleep with her head on my chest. I notice that she’s uncomfortable with her watch still on. Normally she takes it off before bed but must have forgotten. I gently remove it for her and notice, for the first time, a small tattoo on her wrist.
It says “lagom.” I don’t know what it means and remind myself to ask her in the morning before falling asleep.
We’re matching (this happens more often than I care to admit). I make a joke about one of us needing to change but she isn’t interested in my joke. I now immediately know what kind of mood she’ll be in tonight. Lilly is always kind but is sometimes sharp in her replies. Despite the bit of chill in her mood, she looks lovely as always.
Her clothes are casual and comfortable and I know the t-shirt is one of her favorites. Her hair is pulled back into its usual ponytail but there’s a French braid on the right side. Her make up is her usual rosy cheeks with mascara and chapstick.
I’ve memorized more of her than I care to admit. I know that she always wears the same watch, a small band on her right ring finger and three diamond studs in each ear. I know the faces she makes to accompany different emotions. I know the sounds she makes when she’s upset, frustrated, amused, etc. But there are definitely expressions and sounds I’d still like to learn about.
She grumbles about my motorbike as we prepare to leave and I know that she really does dislike riding on it. Why she continues to get on it is beyond me but I can’t deny how much I love the feeling of her arms around my waist.
We park the bike and make our way to the theatre. She’s checking emails on her phone so I bump her with my elbow. She makes her little grunt/snort noise meant to let me know that she’s not amused but doesn’t look up from her phone.
I bump her again with my hip and this time she puts her phone away and informs me that I’m behaving like a primary school child with a crush.
I blush and blurt out a vague inclination that I do like her before my brain can process that I shouldn’t. But when she informs me that she’s going to behave like a primary school child with a crush too and grabs my hand, I am glad my mouth spoke before I thought.
I tangle my fingers with hers and am surprised by how well her tiny little hand fits in mine. She swings our hands and I can see that she is smiling.
She folds her legs under her in the theatre seat, grabs her water bottle and lifts up the arm rest that had separated us. She leans a bit towards me and grabs my hand again. I can actually see the excitement in her face for the movie and am completely overcome with feelings I don’t want to define.
While waiting for the movie to begin, we chat quietly about our days and she studies the crowd. She people watches and I watch her. I look down at her hand in mine and notice that her nails are painted a pale, nude color. They are perfectly shaped and flawlessly painted.
She is in awe during the entire film. She gasps at all the right moments and tears up several times. During the scenes showing Snape’s love for Lilly, my Lilly covers her mouth with her hand and leans back against me. She dries her eyes on the back of her hand.
She is sad but happy when it’s over and she gently holds my hand all the way back to the bike.
We do our usual take away and watch reruns of Little Britain. But the discussion turns to age and life expectations. I am shocked when she tells me that she’s turning 26. She’s practically a child but acts with grace beyond her age.
When she admits that she believed she’d be married by now, I have to wonder if there was someone she thought she’d be married too. I always thought I would marry Olivia and have a bunch of children. I wonder who he was and why it didn’t work.
She manages to turn the conversation to lighter but related subject matter by telling me what she’s named her non-existent dogs and telling me about her godson in Sweden. I tell her about my godchildren and the kids of my closest friends.
Eventually, she tidies up despite my insistence that she let me help. In the struggle to be the one cleaning, I accidently pin her against the counter. She looks up at me with a look I’ve never seen before gently pulling the collar of my shirt, bringing me closer to her.
She looks me in the eye and kisses me. She is warm and I feel the heat flow through me all the way to my fingers and toes. I am overwhelmed by the smell of her hair and perfume and the taste of her mouth.
Holding her and kissing her, I know it’s over. She’s won.
She falls asleep with her head on my chest. I notice that she’s uncomfortable with her watch still on. Normally she takes it off before bed but must have forgotten. I gently remove it for her and notice, for the first time, a small tattoo on her wrist.
It says “lagom.” I don’t know what it means and remind myself to ask her in the morning before falling asleep.
♠ ♠ ♠
