Testosterone

She held out her hand straight up in front of herself, and said, without moving her eyes, “See? It doesn’t shake.” Typical drunk woman. “That does not imply that you are not drunk!” I looked at her, top to bottom. She is dressed like your average working girl. A loosely buttoned pink shirt, a golden pendant on her slender neck, slightly lumpy mascara, and eye lids that would not (could not?) stay up. Her eyes are striking, no doubt. Even in that inebriated state, her green eyes looked like they were full of dreams. I say ‘even’, because I have seen her working right next to me every day. And she looks like she is made up of dreams even then.

She picked up her beer mug and took a couple of sips. How the hell did I get dragged into this? I don’t even drink! All I wanted to do was sleep, when she asked me to join her to her friend’s party. Stupid fucking testosterone. I said yes in a micro second, didn’t I? Why am I getting so agitated? Well of course I would be on the edge. My ‘date’ had been busy socializing the whole night, while I sat in the corner, waiting. Okay, she just waved at my face. There she goes again, flitting like a butterfly. A pink, gorgeous butterfly, that just wouldn’t come to this scentless flower that is me. Wow, I am thinking like a hopeless romantic. Or just a fool. Or both. Does one come without being the other? Perfect time for reflecting on these things, Mario. Just, fucking, perfect.

Even if she did come here to talk to me, what would I say to her? I have already exhausted the list of things I jot down every morning to talk to her about in the office. That morning habit had helped me talk to her for quite a few weeks. It worked. Then why the hell didn’t I think of things to talk about in a party? No wonder she wasn’t sitting here with a speechless, topicless me. She was laughing over some silly thing her girl friend said. Why did she even ask me to come here? Must have been out of courtesy. I was sitting right next to her while she was making plans. Heck, she was talking to me when the call came. Should have realized it then itself. But, no. Testosterone clouding. Did I just roll my eyes on myself? Way to go, Mario. Oh God, they saw that. Now they are laughing at me. Brilliant. I am sitting here, waiting for her, and she is laughing at me with her friends. Perfect.

Wait. Why am I waiting? This is stupid. I should just walk up to her and ask her what she wants from me. Look at her standing there, shining like a star, and illuminating the room with that smile. Ass, get off the chair. Legs, take me to her. Don’t shake. Okay. 10 steps done. 4 more to take. Wait, what I am going to say to her? Too late. Too close to back out now. Ah! Sweat glands, stop secreting! Voice, Voice?! Where are you?! “Kristie, I need to talk to you. Could I borrow you for a moment?” That sounded normal. Almost. I think. Not. She smiled. Oh, that glorious smile.

Okay. Now, where do we go? Garden. Open. If things go south, I can run directly to the gate. Good plan, Mario. It’s not like you work together. Genius. She brushed her hand against mine, that’s thrice now. Or is she just tipsy? I should probably hold her. Hand, slowly, slowly go around her waist. Okay, not too tight. It’s alright. Wow. It’s like holding porcelain. The moon is magnificent tonight. Wasn’t it a full moon 2 days ago? “What did you want to talk about, Mario?” Okay. She just put her head on my shoulder. Boy, she must be tipsy. “Uh, nothing, really. I just wanted to get you away from there.” Okay, now she is looking at me. Must say something. Eyes. Her eyes. “I… wanted to be alone with you. That’s not a problem, is it?” She’s smiling. Phew! Wait, it’s just a half smile. “Are you okay? You’ve had quite a bit to drink.” Okay. Now, no smile. What is wrong with you, Mario? Now she is turning red with anger! Oh God. Why can’t I just keep my stupid mouth shut? “I am not drunk, Mario. I think my drinking has pissed you off. I can’t help that, Mario. This is who I am. I know my threshold.” “Your drinking? No, that’s not the thing. Kristie, you are a grown woman. You are the most amazing woman I know. And I love that you are who you are. I mean, you are practically perfect! Hell, I don’t care what you do if it makes you happy. I would pluck you those magnolias you admire every day, if I could put my hands through those wires. I would buy you those helium balloons you like to set loose, because watching them float away makes you smile. I would take you to a Madrid match, and watch it with you, if you just tell me you want to. Kristie, anything that makes you smile is fine by me. As long as I am there to see you smile. I want to make you smile. But, you. You have been spending time with everyone except me. Why did you call me here in the first place if you just wanted to talk to others?” She is squinting at me. That’s never a good sign. “I am talking to others cause you aren’t talking to me. I asked you to come here, cause I wanted my friends to meet you. I asked you to come because you never ask me out yourself.”

Okay. It’s been 45 seconds. I should say something. Eyes, stop blinking like a fool. Mouth, stop being so dry! Body, listen to me. Brain, do something! No, no, no. Not you, heart. Brain. Brain! Mission abort! Head, stop. Neck, don’t bend. Testosterone, abort! Lips, stop! Too late. Oh God. This must be heaven. How can someone’s lips be this soft? It’s like touching satin. Like, cherry satin. Why is it dark? Oh, eyes, you have defied me too, eh? Closed without a warning. Now how will I prepare myself for the slap that awaits me? I should probably be ready. 3…2…Wait. Her hand is here. But, it’s not crisp or fast. It’s just touching me face. Her lips moved. Not away. Oh, Lord. Oh, sweet, beautiful Lord of cherry satin and vanilla.

Thank you, Testosterone.

 

Everything.

Third matchstick; Two left in the box. It burnt with a buzz. It had been 6 months since they had started smoking, and she still couldn’t light a match stick properly. But she never let him do it. And he never asked to. He would wait till she was done lighting her cigarette, and then he would take hers to light his own. And she would let herself take a moment to take in that scent of the burning match stick. It was liberating.

The crescent moon nights were their favourites. Perfect lighting- the amount was just enough to see each other, not enough to be discovered. The terrace was their secret; it was off-limits, and not easily accessible to anyone but them. Right under the warden’s nose, right over her room. They had been climbing up there for over 6 years now.  6 years, since they’d known each other. They had talked about everything there was to be talked about. And then talked about it again. And again. It wasn’t that the silence was awkward. They craved for each other’s voices. They were friends in the darkness, of the darkness. They’d met one fateful night, sneaking out of their respective rooms to watch the stars, or something like that. Not like they remembered. They’d met every night after that. Things get muddled in your head after a while.

She took a deep drag, and then watched the smoke escape her lips. She stole a glance. He was resting his head against the wall, long hair all over the place, eyes closed, making smoke rings. She loved watching him make those rings; the shape his lips made, the way his Adam’s apple would move, the fact that he would never look whether the rings were formed at all or not. It was like he did that just for her.

“Do you think the sun sets in heaven?” She was concentrating on the smoke rising from her mouth. But he knew she knew just exactly what he was doing. And he didn’t need to steal a glance to predict what she was doing. He did anyway. “I sure hope it does. Heaven wouldn’t be complete without these nights there.” She smiled. Her exact thoughts, in his voice. Typical. She flicked her cigarette stub off the terrace. And watched the trajectory. Then she decided to steal another glance. He had changed his position.

He was watching the stars. She started playing with her hair. “The Sun is us, you know? It is bright and full of fire. It is never at rest, never satisfied, never vanquished, and never lonely.” She rested her head on his lap. “Then the stars are us, too. Darkness is a part of our being. The night is incomplete without stars. The peace, and the calm, the whites, the yellows, and the blues. ” “The water is us too, then. Cool, placid. Turbulent, and devastating.” “As is the Earth. Nurturing, Nourishing. Full of life, full of…” “Us.”

He looked at her face, her eyes were closed. He tucked her hair behind her ear, bent a little, and kissed her. When he lifted his head, he smiled. Her face had gone red, eyes were still closed, and the breath ragged. The sensation of his lips on hers was still there. The tingles and the chills. Even though he was lighter than  snow, even when he was stronger than the wind. She drew in a slow breath. Her heart was finally speeding down. She opened her eyes, and looked at him. His dimpled chin complemented his crooked smile. “The air is us too.” She breathed. “Free. Unearthly”, he said. “And silk.” “Delicate. Soft.” “Monuments?” “Magnificent. Memorable.” “Smiles?” “Unending. Happiness.” “And love?” “Pure.”

“We are everything.”

“Everything is us.”