It was her mother who dreamed she caught a shooting star before falling pregnant. She held the star brightly and kept it from burning out. She nurtured and supported it, and in time that star became a young lady with passion and purpose, she became my Korean star, my soul mate. Now, she and I walked naked within our own bamboo forest, and as the rain drops fell from the sky the night before last and crashed out across the pavement, creating earthquakes, I tried to read their hidden messages and elemental history. It was the season for nature’s shower to kiss the rooftops and lick the fallen leaves of different shades. Soul mates I laugh out loud in my head, for me it was just a magnificent myth, a whisper carried in the wind and narrated in films. But then she came and stirred me, and like a pebble that skims across the water, she sends out ripples in my once stagnant pond.
She scans my face with her hand as if to imprint my image deep within her mind, capturing and storing the moment. I let her into my quarters for only the second time and watched her draw under the dim lighting. She was inspired by our recent trip to Ueno Zoo, two birds without cages seeing no need to fly away and soar the skies seeking new residence. Though the possibility that the birds’ wings might have been clipped did not cross my mind at the time.
We stretch out on the electric mat staring deep into each other while the chords and lucidity of Uehara Hiromi and the broiling steam from the electric heater soothes us. An ethereal sound wave splitting through the warm fabric air setting the mood for what is to be our last evening together as we had separated two days before. I was feeling exhausted due to the recent lack of sleep and leaking of emotions once stored so firmly inside the invisible jar of my mind. In the past few days time had dragged on, lost and misplaced like a garden snail wandering the as sahra al-kubra. I would sit in my hub and anticipate the door sliding open with little arms flapping in the air, but the walls have fallen silent, and the half vacant futon now has frozen layers. The darkness at night comes much quicker and the closet once filled with lavender and untidiness has now become a small empty shack of old wood. I cleaned to pass the time, the plants’ ebbing vitality outlining ghosts in the midst of the air. I have become a dog whimpering at the unknown, the chill seeping into my old flesh. I yearned to be with her no matter what would follow.
“I should go,” she said closing her eyes.
“Don’t, I want to hold you for the night.”
“But I’m afraid I can’t control myself, I’m not as strong as you.”
“Don’t worry.” Silence ticks on. I pull strands of her long black hair away from her lips and move in with a kiss. A man can also be exposed to an emotional tornado with no shelter to hide or run to. This was it, my feelings, thoughts and actions all laid bare for her to envelope within her body. What are the odds of a Korean girl and a British boy finding each other as soul mates here in the land of the rising sun? This question began rocketing around in my mind until she broke my thoughts with another kiss.
While she took a shower I prepared the room with scented candles and burning oils. The orange glow from the heater created a cosy and seductive atmosphere. She walks into the room dries off and puts on the Arsenal shirt that was resting on the floor.
“The passion and pride,” I say while kissing the emblem. She laughs and kisses it also. Her breasts were now pressing firmly against the fabric, never before had a football shirt looked so rich in colour and life. We retreat to the floor and I pull her close to me. I begin to kiss each part of her face three times as her body begins to jolt and vibrate. I pull away momentarily to look at her crescent frame in full.
“I want you,” she said while gripping me tightly. I obliged with a sinking kiss and pulled her arms behind and over her head while my lips and body began to engage with her damp skin. Tremor after tremor shot through her body like bullets ripping through shallow water. I wanted to please her and say goodbye properly, say goodbye with smiles and ecstasy.
She always had trouble sleeping and disliked the darkness. It was an experience in childhood that made her this way. At her flat she normally leaves a light on, or music, or both when going to bed, but for wanting to keep in touch with my eco-friendly habits I let one candle burn instead, creating enough light to be able to see each other. She strokes my head urging me to sleep like a mother does to a young child, her natural maternal behaviour expressing itself again. She never sleeps unless I sleep first, she never says goodbye unless I turn my back to go first. A Korean song begins to slip out from her lips and slithers its way into my ears, I resist the drowsiness long enough to paint her figure in my mind. My eyes close and I sleep.
I woke up to the chirping of my mobile, turned off the first alarm and slept for another thirty minutes until the second alarm hummed. I smiled at my diligence for not wanting to be late for work. I roll out of bed, sleep walk into the living room and flick on the TV to watch the Liverpool VS Everton game on J-Sports. Liverpool is one-nil to the good, Gerrard as usual orchestrating the show. A simple breakfast is prepared, cereal, banana and tangerines. She eats and watches football with me. Everton equalise! Fantastic, beautiful, gorgeous, woo hey! Good result for Arsenal and the chase for the Premier League title. I explain how the point system works – three points for a win, one point a piece for a draw. She smiles and continues to caress the bowl with her supple breath. She loved my passion for things; she loved my energy, my Jamaican flare and British etiquette. I watch her eat, being reminded of the time we spent at the seaside in Makuhari where we both fell in love.
to be continued…
Read: The Seaside – Part 2 – Equation for Love
By B. L. Crisp