True story of my ex and me. Its an AM/WM story. Its not yet finished, and its also posted in my blog. Enjoy it.

Intense Love

Sunlight of morning, a summer in mid-July. I am waiting for the bus, concrete beneath the feet, a support. When will it come? Music from China moves through my ears. Random thoughts talk inside. Its hot, will I meet anyone interesting? The bus arrives. A ticket is removed, a voucher pass. Step by step, I climb inside; wearing sunglasses, smile on my face. I spot him then, a tall Asian with glasses and a baseball cap backwards. He is bald as well. He is not my type, yet I walk up to him.

It begins then. A brief conversation that leads to unexpected path. He is animated, outgoing. He is very muscular and his clothes remind me of a gangster want to be. I had to leave, walk inside the rail car. I bid him goodbye, somehow knowing I would see him again.

A path of secrets, of lies of deceit, that is the choice I have unconsciously made. I see him again, the very next day. I step inside the bus and there he is again. He is not a college student as I thought him to be. He goes there to pass time. He asks my number. I give him the number, and when he calls the very same day, I am not prepared.

He does not have a phone, he tells me later on. He asks me to come over to his apartment so he would cook me something special. Come over to his apartment? I decline. He says he never asked a girl out before. Then, he says he will be accompanying me to my destination. He had to go soon, the minutes ran out.

I saw him on the station, a gift in his hands. CDs, from his home country are given to me. So you won’t have to listen to Chinese music, he tells me. We board the train. Sunlight streams, a day of new beginnings, he sits far from me while I watch the light. You can sit next to me I tell him as I pat the empty chair next to me. Overpowering aura, eyes of laser beams focus on me. Darkness becomes my vision, through touch we become one. His kisses speak desperation, something that aches to be released. His arms fold me to him, unsatisfied demands. Force, conquer overpower. My courtship begins.
We arrive, hand in hand. I have to go now, but I will be back here later, I promise.

A heat wave dances through the city, a city underneath the Southern skirts. Around is poverty; cigarette butts, gnawed chicken bones, and trash.

Downtown. He sits and grins. I’ll wait here, he tells me.

You should go inside where it is cooler, I tell him.

I leave then, and return after a few hours. He is still sitting on the bench.

I’ve been waiting for you this entire time, he tells me.

We are together then, my hand in his, fingers intertwine like coils of a spring. I am his first girlfriend; he never had a girlfriend before. His first kiss, he tells me.

Day is not over, not just yet. College approaches, a scent of earth invades. Rain, it shall rain today. Library, a buzz of computers, of students playing games and doing work, we sit.

Would you like to see my homepage? He asks.

Yes, I respond. He shows it to me. A picture of him, with hair clouds my sight. A song plays in background. His message is seen.

This is to my church brothers and sisters, he explains. The song, I wrote it and created it.

It is beautiful.

I sing the background he claims as he points out his voice. If I were to come up with a singer his voice resembles most, it would be Craig David.

He shows me a poem he wrote. A poem speaking of love, of the one, a poem I cannot recall. Later on, he would explain that back in his country, he wrote poetry to escape his life. The thought of finding a soul mate drove him on to continue to live. He needed a smoke, we walked outside. Two trees are clouds for a bench, the darkness is enters. Light illuminate outside. I sit. He stands. He sings me a song he wrote, using a tone from another song I cannot pinpoint. He tells me he thinks of me as someone he’ll marry, the soul mate he desires.

I go back home then.

Friday arrives, a cloudy day. He calls. We meet amid the scurrying shoppers and stores. We walk, his hand around my waist, looking at jewelry of all sorts; there are diamond rings, opals, emeralds, garnets and amethysts. Eager to show off my knowledge, I point and name the stones. Most of times I am right, others, I am wrong.

Some salespeople think we’re married.

Not yet, he tells them as he grins. He is proud of me, I’m dating a smart girl, he shouts.

Hours flash as seconds, rejuvenation does not escape, I want to taste everything; the masseuses, going to stores. He is irritated when I ask if I could get a massage.

It is dark, and cloudy, ready to rain. I pay for our dinner; one slice of pizza and a soda to share. He didn’t have money. I’ll give you a massage, he says as he begins. He is clumsy, unknowing in senses. Shortly after, he stops.
I forget his irritation. We continue to walk. An Asian male stands, the massaging table next to him. I ask him again. He begins to walk away.
Oh God, what did I do? Torn, uncertain of what to do, I run after him, calling out his name, apologizing forever. How could I do that to him? He’s upset.
He keeps walking, I struggle to keep up.

Then he stops. Stands. If you didn’t run after me, I would have walked away, he says. I stand close. He is not touching me, I, not him.

We walk. Ottoman is near. He sits down, I on his lap.

Gratitude. He did not leave me! His arms go around me. We talk; our souls are together, almost the same. He understands me. How could he not?
Time to go. We walk together, hand in hand, outside.

It is beginning to rain.

He does not have a car, and I do not either.

My parents picked us up. He sits far from me, we still hold hands.
We arrive at his apartments, he does not kiss me, though I try, he resists.
He leaves, as do I.

I look forward to next time.

Monday. Today I’ll drive you to college, he tells me. I remember. We talked during weekend about it. Something is inside, eating me from within. I know what it is, anxiety. After college, we will go to Main Event. We will stay for a few minutes. I have to say hi to my friends, he explains. It is fine with me. The station is approaching rapidly. I have my own music prepared. We listen to it together, for the first time. Everything is fine, for now. The heat closed around me, no air to breathe. We walk down. Sit here, he tells me. I do so. He walks upstairs. I sit down.

Minutes pass, songs as well. He appears now and then, making sure I am all right.

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Once you go Asian, you'll never go caucasian