—
How We Meet, How We Begin
You stood maybe-impatiently in the foyer of my house and I could not stop looking at you, discreetly, when we left. We all got into the car and I watched you from the backseat. I gazed at you with the air of a kitten who had discovered yarn. I wanted to touch you. You turned around once or twice and I slammed my gaze to the window. I didn't want to be caught looking at you. I was supposed to be cool, airy, and breezy. But instead I felt small, like a hummingbird turning its neck up to sip at a new flower, like a stammering child who dropped her dandelions in—surprise.
When we arrived at the house I was momentarily distracted by its beauty, and by the dog. "Nyoo," I squealed. "You're such a pretty girl." We all of us circled the grill like a starved pack of wolves and, to ease boredom, started on the alcohol. After fifteen minutes my face is blooming crimson and you are all giggling about it.
While I listened to the stories I paid attention to you especially. Your voice was molten gold (like listening to the right song on a summer evening). I relished it. I devoured it. I wanted you to stay close to me. We all moved to the table for dinner. I wanted you to sit beside me. You did.
While I listened to the stories I paid attention to you especially. Your voice was molten gold (like listening to the right song on a summer evening). I relished it. I devoured it. I wanted you to stay close to me. We all moved to the table for dinner. I wanted you to sit beside me. You did.
I drank more and more in front of you until my head spins and I stumbled to the living room to lay down. Some part of me felt embarrassed and I was blushing all over but you all dismissed it as the Prost. You went to see puppies and left me behind because I had fallen asleep on the chaise and then you all came back; I was still asleep and everything was pulsing, all the colors were seeping into each other and I was so drunk. Okay, you say, let's go home.
I fell asleep once more in the backseat, but before I did my head was ringing and I listened again to you. That is how I was lulled to sleep: with your voice (a study in native beauty), booming softly like the distant bell of the lighthouse on the shore. Like leather that has been worn soft over many years. Like the languid sweetness of caramel.
When we got home you held my hand—for a moment, just one—so that I could find my way to the door. I do not think you even thought about it afterwards. I did. Oh, it was a beautiful moment, I said to myself. Within my heart something had sprouted. I did not notice it for several days.
When we got home you held my hand—for a moment, just one—so that I could find my way to the door. I do not think you even thought about it afterwards. I did. Oh, it was a beautiful moment, I said to myself. Within my heart something had sprouted. I did not notice it for several days.
—
Let's Travel Somewhere Interesting
It was easier to ask you to take me to the city. So I asked and you obliged, willingly. In all we spent an hour and twenty minutes in your car. During these minutes you sang along to your violently energetic songs and I laughed at you, ha, ha, what a strange fellow. But your enthusiasm was endearing enough, and I accepted it. Later I would listen to the songs, alone in my room, and then days later we would sing along to them together.
There was a short moment here, too, where I leaned back into the carseat and said, "Makasih, ya," softly, eagerly, tenderly. I hadn't planned for the words to come out. I could feel every bone in my body cracking. Earlier that evening you patted me on the head and I wondered, is this how the wolf-girl becomes domesticated? Is this how I, after all this time, am declawed?
When I said it to you (hey—thank you) you looked sideways at me without a single word and that was when I knew I wanted to kiss you. It was from this point that the seed grew leaves. It wound around my ribs and around my lungs. From this point on I forgot how to breathe.
—
Until Next Time
Several days after our foray into the city you came to my home and brought me my favorite drink. I told you to come inside: in hindsight I should have gotten in your car, to keep our secret a while longer. But you came in and chatted for a little bit with the others. Out of your mouth flew an offhanded suggestive comment. I plucked it out of the air and wrapped it in a little handkerchief and sometimes when I am feeling silly I take it from my pocket and hold it, gently.
Your fingers grazed my belly several times. Because this was before our feelings made their grand showing I twitched nervously on the sofa afterwards, wondering and wondering and wondering about it. What could it mean?, I hissed to myself, fingers lingering at my lips. Before you left I reached out my hand and your hand moved to meet mine; it turned from a casual high-five into a I want to lace my fingers into yours but we can't be seen like this but I please do not let go please let me hold you. I wanted to run after you. I wanted to hold your hand.
—
Go Tell The Lord That Eve Has Sinned
"Ga ada apa-apa kok," I laughed (I was nervous, so nervous nervous nervous nervous). Over the course of the day we spent together I thought to myself: I'm going to kiss him. And then I'll whisper "I'm sorry" and then he'll drive me back and we will never talk again afterwards. But when the rain started falling and even when night fell like a blanket over the earth I had not kissed you yet. By this time the plant had spread to every inch of me and I could not move in your presence without feeling trapped.
You leaned back and then you drew closer to me again and I could feel it—your breath on my lips and your gaze heavy on me just before we—kissed. At that moment I could have written a thousand psalms and sent them to the Lord Most High. I felt even dizzier than I had that other night, and all of it felt like oh, is this real, and I was rattled and dazed and wondering if it was a cruel illusion. Unabashed I reached for you and climbed onto your lap, lips still flush against yours.
In a daze you and I moved to the backseat and we continued to kiss each other and your hands, hungry, settled uneasily on my butt and then snaked up to my lower back, and you pulled me closer to you. With my hands tangled into your hair I gasped again and again and then you eased away, for a moment. Looked at me. Nuzzled your face into the crevice of my shoulder and breathed, a silent apology I understood and accepted. Then you reclaimed my skin by pressing your lips to my neck, and trailing lower, pausing to leave a wine-colored bloom on my breast. The heat of your breath, muted by the songs that continued to play over and over like a doll someone had carelessly left behind, made me feel oddly self-conscious and mindless all at once. I could not stop kissing you, and I justified myself by saying that I only wanted to figure out the science of us, so that I could replicate the experience with someone else and clip you out of my life, so that I could say sorry like I'd planned and it could be over.
Over and over, slamming our lips together and other times softly coming close—I lamented in my heart of hearts that we had so little time together. There were lulls in our embraces where you leaned away from me and pursed your lips just so, and you knew, of course, what you were asking of me. You beckoned me with your smile and your melancholy eyes that held an ocean of regret and guilty adoration. I moved closer to you again and pushed away my hair, which was getting into my eyes and falling onto your face and I stayed like that, with barely a centimeter between your mouth and mine. When you licked your lips I felt your tongue brush against my parted ones.
After our fire had settled we retreated again to the driver's seat and shotgun. I could have been ashamed but I had let go of all pretense and proceeded to pelt you on the cheeks with my little kisses, like a hungry bird girl home again before the snow came in. The taste of the cigarette you'd smoked an hour before snuck into me like a poison, solidifying my secret enjoyment of them. My hands never once come up to your chest to stop you or turn you away, and that is how I understand that you had come to destroy me.
At the end of the night it was you who held me. At the end I was not sure which one of us said those words first. Now I deserve to be called Juliet and now I can only pray that we will not die when it is done.
—
Tomorrow is my UAS (final exam) for Business Mathematics. After that I'll be 3/8 of the way done with my finals, which last until next Thursday. This Saturday there is a meeting for Rain's book launch and the Saturday after that will be the book launch. I was a bit disheartened earlier in the day and took a nap which was plagued with nightmares, but Mr. Mozzarella was alarmingly discerning and was able to cheer me up. That is actually very impressive to me.
On another note: I hope you realize there are many different ways to fall in love, and that there are many ways to love without ever once falling. Sometimes the love (any sort of love, whether familial or platonic, romantic, otherwise) will not come for many years. Sometimes it blooms early. Regardless, don't ever feel as if you've come up short because you have experienced love one too many times or because you have never experienced it at all.
With all my 
RIN