Understanding

A Story by Lola Positive

A short story

I am in the shower when you come home. I hear you go into the kitchen and try to make dinner but dropping the pots and spilling the rice.

God I love you.

I hear you come down the hall, probably looking for Bandaids. You stop as the pass the bathroom door, you have heard the water running. I will you to come and join me, to open the door and join me in the shower, to shed you clothes in the light for once. But I know you won’t, you are too shy, your scars haunt you too much, so much that you can't even show me. You go back into the kitchen and keep cooking. I turn off the water and wrap myself in a towel, running a comb through my wet hair. I walk down the hall to the kitchen and stand by the doorway, watching you silently for a while.

You are so beautiful, with your long black hair tied back in a messy ponytail and the sunlight casting shadows over you pale face. You turn and see me, you smile and walk over to me, wrapping me in your arms and holding me close to your chest. I say nothing, simply taking in your smell, it's woody, almost sweet, like rain. "How was your day?" you murmur into my hair, your warm breath making my shiver. "It was fine" I reply tilting you face up to look at you. You smile down at me in a way that makes your eyes sparkle like two glittering emeralds and checks dimple just slightly. I reach up and touch your face, running my fingers over the hollow of your cheeks and the curve of your lips. You kiss my finger tips and I shiver, my mind filled with delicious fantasies and my heart filled with longing.

God I want you.

You pull away and go back to the stove, turning on the pot of rice and dicing some carrots. We make dinner together, it is plain, carrots and rice, but I eat my helping and more. But it is not food I am truly hungry for.

After dinner you clear away the plates, stacking them neatly in the sink, along with the cutlery. You fill the sink and roll up your sleeves. That is when I see them, the scars you are so ashamed of, thin white lines of hatred carved into your skin by angry fingers all those years ago. I move behind you and put my hands on your waist, turning you to face me. There is fear in your eyes, there is also shame and sadness, yes lots of sadness. You know I saw them. "You don't have to hide them anymore" I whisper, placing one hand on your scarred fore arm. At first you shudder at my touch but then you lean in. You kiss me, softly on the mouth, your cheeks wet with tears, and in the moment I know, you aren't going to hide from me anymore.

God I see you.