Page 74 of Like a Love Story
“Art,” he says. The sound of my name in his accent makes me feel like a new person, like he’s invented a better version of me. It almost brings tears to my eyes.
Having him in my arms, and in my darkroom, feels more intimate than anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s like he’s inside my beating heart, and our hearts are becoming one.
And then I say it. I don’t even think about it. I blurt it out because I have to.
“I love you.”
There. It feels like a relief. The words linger in the air.
His eyes dart away from my gaze, but I can see him blushing. I love seeing him blush. He sighs and then he kisses me. When he pulls away, he whispers, “I love you too. I’ve wanted to say it so many times.”
“Me too, so many times,” I whisper. I can’t believe this is happening, that he actually feels the same way I do.
I love him. He loves me. We said it, and the magic spell didn’t wear off. I still want to kiss him, hold him, protect him. I need to feel his skin against mine. I try to pull his shirt off, but he resists. I make a decision. I can’t control what he takes off, but I can choose what I take off. I remove my T-shirt. Then I pull my jeans off over my sneakers.
“Art,” he whispers.
I ignore him. There’s one thing left to take off. My boxer briefs. I remove them. I stand in front of him, exposed.
“Art,” he says again, a little louder.
“Shh... ,” I say. “Just look at me.”
“I thought the chemicals could...”
“I kept my shoes on,” I say. “There are no rules posted about anything else.”
I approach him again, press my nakedness against his clothes. We kiss, but he’s holding back.
“Please,” I say, with desperation. “I need you.”
“I need you too....” He trails off.
“Just touch me,” I say, as gently as I can in the heat of this moment. “Let’s start there. You won’t get anything from touching. I promise.” I push my knuckles into theknots in his back, trying to release his tension.
“I’m afraid that if I touch you... that it will make me want more. That if I touch you, I will want to taste you. And if I taste you, then... if I open the door, then I won’t know how to close it again.... Because I want you more than anything.”
“We don’t have to close the door,” I say. “Never. Don’t you see how lucky we are? We were born at exactly the right time to protect ourselves.”
“But what if that’s not true?” he asks. “What if there is another virus waiting in the wings? What if condoms turn out not to work? What if this is only the beginning of something even worse?”
“Please,” I say. “Please just kiss me.”
He does, but it’s tentative. I want it to feel free, unhinged, passionate. I want to be an animal, to roar.
“Art,” he says tentatively, “I’m serious. What if AIDS is our warning that something even worse is around the bend?”
“What if AIDS is our warning that life is short?” I ask. “What if it’s telling us that we should love when we have the chance?”
“I do love you,” he says. “So much. Now that we’ve said it, I want to keep repeating it. I love you.”
“Then don’t let fear run your life,” I say. “Look at me. I’m standing naked in front of you. I’m yours. I’m all yours.”
Something shifts in him. He softens. He runs his hands down my chest, his touch so warm. “What if wejust hold each other?” he asks. He looks so beautiful illuminated by the red glow of the lights.
I melt into him, my head on his shoulder. The smell of him merging with the chemicals makes me dizzy. And then I cry. I can’t help it. The tears just flow. I want to tell him that this isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. I want to tell him that love is supposed to soar, to be weightless. Our love is so heavy, full of fear.
“I’m sorry,” I say, with a sudden laugh. “These are tears of joy. Seriously. I’m just so happy that I want more happiness.”
