Faith Evans was on repeat in the background, I remember the way you used to love me. Systematically moving around the room she perused every square inch while trying to avoid memories.
The ottoman in the corner made her laugh. “Floating furniture”, she called it, because it had been in every part of the room, shoved around as an additional prop in their sexual adventures. One glance and she saw him standing behind her, masterfully, her knees bent, feet hanging off the edge…some people’s good old days looked different than others.
Walking over to the bed she fluffed the edges of the throw pillows. His side of the bed was always the messiest, the pillows the most flattened out. It’s where they hung out on Saturday and Sunday mornings. Curled up with her head on his left shoulder, his right arm thrown across her thigh, caressing her lush curves; quietly watching television, doing nothing, drifting off into unplanned afternoon naps.
“I couldn’t let you walk around thinking it’s alright, to let me down…” his fidgeting from the living room broke her reverie. “I’ll be out in a minute”, she called. The bathroom was clear of all of her product, beauty tools and the sexy robe that she always left on the back of the door. The chocolate brown shower curtain fluttered as a breeze came in through the cracked window. She closed her eyes for a minute letting reminders of their intimate moments flood her mind. The smell of fragrant soap entered her nose as she pictured their melded bodies, water traveling between them.
“Baby, are you ready?” Eric stood in the doorway of the bedroom, anxiously waiting. Walking toward him, she put her hands out to grab his. “I’m ready, but if I have to leave this bed behind, can we say goodbye to it properly?”
He looked toward the neatly made bed, with a sly but cautious smile, “What if he comes home?”
Pulling him forward, recklessly, she replied, “If coming home was his strong suit, would I be leaving?”
“You didn’t hear me calling out, and that’s not what love’s about.”