Sometimes little scenes pop into my head and I have no idea where they come from… this one arrived and the characters don’t have names, I don’t know how they came to be in the motel, I don’t know what has happened – or hasn’t happened between them… and I get the feeling that nothing has happened… yet…
He emerged from the small en-suite bathroom tentatively, wishing he’d taken his trousers in with him; he emerged wearing his shirt and shorts very conscious of his fat hairy legs. She was leaning against the shelf by the window; the furniture was always minimal in places like this.
She didn’t look at him, seemed not to have noticed he had come into the bedroom; she was staring out of the window, but he felt that she wasn’t really looking at anything she could see. She was seeing something very different in her mind’s eye, and he was filled with dread.
He dropped the towel on the bed; it was damp and he should have left it in the bathroom, but he didn’t want to go back, he had to find out what was the matter… because something was the matter.
He debated for a moment whether to put his trousers on, but a fat man putting on trousers was probably as comical as a fat man taking them off.
He walked round the end of the bed, the throw tossed back, and came to her. She was so beautiful, truly lovely. She looked tired though… as if she had lain awake while he had slept, lain awake thinking about things, thinking about her husband, his wife?
She turned her head very slowly and looked at his face, stared at him, her expression sombre, almost sad. His heart began to pound. She examined his face, his forehead with the damp curls plastered to it, his eyebrows and his eyes, his nose, his mouth… she touched his cheek, ran her finger along his unshaven jaw.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked gently. Let her say it, let her say she never wanted to see him again, that she didn’t love him…
“Tell you?” she repeated in a low voice, a slight frown of puzzlement creasing her brow.
“Is there something you want to ask me?” he struggled to keep his voice steady.
She stood up away from the shelf; she was slightly taller than him. Very gently she kissed his mouth. No! No! He wanted to shout at her, don’t end it like this!
“You are so beautiful,” she said. “I’m sorry,” she murmured against his cheek, pressing herself against him.
He stood stock-still; the world seemed to have stopped turning, the tides stilled, the invisible stars paused in their orbits…
He slid his arms round her and held her as she kissed him again.
“I love you so much,” she breathed.
Time started again and the tide was his blood surging, the stars were in her eyes, and he held her and kissed her.
Lois Elsden 