“I’ve had a wonderful time,” you say, earnestly.
I hold your gaze, searching for duplicity, trying to find the lie. That will be more comfortable, because then I can go home and expect nothing more than memories of the beautiful long weekend we’ve just spent together.
Instead, your eyes take me back to easy conversations in dimly-lit restaurants, holding hands on a walk back to the hotel — and your touch. Your touch.
The hum of the massing travelers at Ngaoundere’s Central Station begins to fade as I close my eyes involuntarily to flashing images of your lips on mine, me moaning, writhing, and shuddering.
The ding-dong over the station’s PA system jolts me back to the present. I shift my weight to my other foot, not sure what to do.
I wish I didn’t have to go.
“Me too,” you say.
Crap! Did I just say that out loud? I am now blushing furiously.
“Uh —,”
I’m not sure what to say. I had come out here on a whim. Ngaoundere is too far from Douala to even attempt long distance.
What am I even thinking? I don’t want a relationship! I just wanted some change of — scenery.
“I’m not going to be in Ngaoundere forever, you know.”
Are you reading my mind? As I try to shrug off your comment, my bulging backpack – my only luggage, skids off one shoulder.
“I will see you soon,” you say with a half smile, and reach out to adjust the strap on my shoulder.
Our eyes lock again.
I am acutely aware of how close your lips are to mine. Anywhere else and we might have drawn a glance or two but between the rush to get ahead of the queue into the station and the scramble to board, no one pays us any mind.
“Will you disappear for a year again before sending me another cryptic hello?” I ask, my lips curving up. You say nothing, do nothing, except look at me.
I search your face, and wait for the awkward moment that’s surely on the way. I think of the last few days, trying and failing to find one awkward moment between us, from when I stepped out of the rickety old taxi at the fueling station that serves as a marker for every (non) address in your neighborhood, to this almost perfect goodbye.
I close my eyes and see the hug we shared, like two long lost friends who had unexpectedly found each other. It didn’t make sense then and it still doesn’t now, because before this weekend, we’ve met exactly once. Nearly fifteen months ago.
This is too perfect. Everything has been too perfect.
And then our lips meet.
The world completely fades out for a few seconds. Or a whole day. The kiss is soft and sweet but it reverberates down to my toes.
When we pull apart, you look at me like you want to say something but you change your mind and just walk away abruptly. I’m not sure what to make of it until you turn around again a few steps away, your ridiculously handsome face illuminated by the fluorescent light that has replaced the waning daylight, and say,
“Sowie dear, good luck keeping me off you.”
Sowan Writes 