“Six Years and One Minute”

 “Six Years and One Minute”

By

Donald L. Vasicek

I can’t do this screamed at me in my brain. I knew it before I started it. The perspiration was there, you know I felt it as our chests met. A lubricating track as we glided back and forth. Her firm breasts soft to electrify my brain. Her eyes, contradictions of fear and love, screamed at me to love her even more rigorously than ever before. Inside of me, a chorus of no’s terrified me, but I wouldn’t recognize them. I was home, where I wanted to be and nothing was going to ever take that away from me again. The undulating movement of our bodies married into one soothed my raging mind like the steady pitter patter of a gentle Mississippi rain.

     And then I knew, the nightmare was over. She had come back. She still loved me. I knew everything would be all right.

     “I love you,” she said. Her gentle voice liquefied me into a pile of slush. Her fingers pressed into the back of my shoulders. She wrenched up under me. Then she heaved even harder raising me higher above her. And then, like a plane landing on a smooth runway, she settled into a state of calm and peace.

     The last six years of dying a thousand deaths after she had divorced me dissipated into thin air. We were together again. I looked into her sparkling blue eyes. They exhibited an empowering look of love that came from deep inside of her. I passed my hand over her long, soft honey blonde hair. She licked her full almond-shaped lips with just the tip of her tongue. Anticipation was there in her look.

     “I love you, Jenny,” I said to her for the first time in six years. And in an instant, perhaps, a minute at the most, she lurched up. Her face exploded in heartbreak. Tears bubbled in her eyes.

     “My name is Kathleen,” she said.