Thursday, February 14, 2008

Rough Draft of (a) Future

Daniel, after a few steps we’ll stop in the centre of the deserted lobby. After the padded darkness of the streets, the brilliance of the crystal candelabra will be a harsh awakening. A bored night-clerk will lift his head only for a second, then return to his dignified dozing. Our timid distances will be beyond suspicion. No, we won’t strike him as illicit lovers trying to sneak past him to a room they’re not supposed to share. Yet, so deeply, both will wish we were.

This will be the end of the evening, we’ll know it, as we’ll both picture my empty hotel room, waiting upstairs, for me alone. Neither of us will want to leave, though neither of us will know how to say it.

As we’ll wait there, unknown seas and skies will travel your regard. What are you waiting for? we’ll both think, almost afraid to breathe. Then, you’ll reach for my hand.

We’ll stand like that for what’ll feel like an eternity, mere inches from one another, our warmth concentrated in the touching parts of our hands, our finger tips electric, the music of our hearts sweetly deafening.

We should be in each other arms.

“Breakfast,” you’ll say when the least expected, half-timidly, half-eagerly, while hope will be bubbling inside you, sending new sparkles to your eyes. “Let’s have breakfast together.”

“Now?”

You’ll hesitate for just a second, a tiny smile lifting the corners of your lips. It’ll be after midnight so that wouldn’t be such a farfetched idea. We’ll laugh and just slightly feel more at ease.

“Tomorrow morning,” you’ll say quickly. “Early. Very early.”

Yes, tomorrow. You’ll pick me up, that’s what you’ll say. At eight o’clock. Good night for now (my darling – only in my mind).

It’ll be in a blur. Our hands slowly slipping from each other. No kiss. Not now. Not yet. When?

And then, I’ll barely sleep in this hotel room that is meant only as an antechamber, some sort of a launching platform for a whole future of us together. An unknown, sweet, scary future.

For a while I’ll watch the city, the fog strengthening its grasp on it. But I’ll have to sleep. I will be tired. I’ll want to be beautiful for you.




The phone will ring in the morning but it won’t wake me up, I’ll be up already. Your voice, so close to my ear and so painfully far at the same time, will scare me. But you will not have called to cancel. You’ll be impatient.

“Take a taxi,” you’ll say. “I’m cooking breakfast…”

You’ll be waiting for me on the pavement. I’ll see you from a distance, your blue sweater distinct among the grey river of suits, your wheat coloured hair catching the early light.

Just to see you again will make me want to shout, and sing, and cry, and laugh. (I love you, Daniel…) The morning will be glorious – the fog a memory so distant that it will seem unreal - and that will bring a new boldness to our thoughts, our gestures.

You’ll open the door for me, before even the taxi will have stopped, and pull me out of it. You’ll pay the driver, offering a bank note much bigger than the fare, without even looking – not to be inconsiderate to him but because you’ll be so happy for what he’s brought you – and then you’ll take me in your arms as if you’ve always done that. With a gentle fierceness. Some passers-by will glance at us annoyed – we’ll be hindering their hurried steps, their hypocritical prudery.

“Breakfast’s ready,” you’ll say, laughter simmering behind your stern, tentative expression, surfacing only in the smiling turquoise of your eyes. Your lips will brush my cheek, sharing some of that powdered sugar you’ll have on your jaw, but only for a second, rather clumsily.

No matter, the harm will be done. Tendrils of fire will spread from that blushing spot, faster than I could try to fight them.

“I’m starved,” I’ll say, taking you by the waist, hanging onto you, to hide my shyness, my nose in your shirt’s collar, where your arm around my neck will hold me gently. “Mmmm, you smell of sweet things…”

(I could eat you, Daniel – only in my mind.)

“Pancakes, brioches, French toast, pear omelette…”

How playfully proud you’ll be of your cooking prowess.

“No full English breakfast, then?” I will say, in mock disappointment.

“Maybe…”

We’ll climb the steps to your flat, holding each other and holding hands – a warm bizarre weaving.

In the kitchen, the sun will greet us through immense bay windows, and a symphony of aromas - a perfect concerto of vanilla and coffee, of orange and cinnamon, of roasted almonds - will do a perfect dance for our senses.

Hands still entwined, we’ll stop and then you’ll turn to me. Your turquoise eyes will sing, and laugh, and dance, and hope, and, somehow, in the next instant – almost unknowingly - the space between us will disappear. A chaste, soothing embrace, stirred by the drumming of our hearts, by your lips pressing in turn on my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my forehead, by the words you’ll speak softly – at last – in my mouth.

“I love you…”

We’ll start with an English breakfast then, my sweet Brit…

21 comments:

jason evans said...

The second person POV feels like being swept away. A perfect choice.

There's a beautiful melancholy in the thoughts about what will happen. What she prays will happen.

Excellent, Vesper.

Aine said...

This feels like a very detailed daydream. Nice.

Lisa said...

This communicates such warmth and excitement. I love it.

morinn said...

I like it. it shows such a sweet love, a very subtle game of seduction.

ChristineEldin said...

So gently seductive. I love how you take your time with her thoughts.
So romantic!

Bernita said...

A lovable piece.

Taffiny said...

I like how I start of feeling the distance, theirs, and mine from the work, as I start to try and piece the thoughts together, and form a view of them, and what this is all about, and then by the time we are in his flat, I too feel enveloped in the sweet warmth, and aromas. I too have been pulled closer bit by bit, till we have all reached this point.

SzélsőFa said...

Very romantic and yes, it does feel like a daydream.

Akasha Savage said...

That's so romantic, and it was really refreshing to read something in that POV, instead of first or second person. :)

Sarah Hina said...

This piece filled my heart. I love the future tense...so boldly hopeful, painting the future.

So many beautiful details here, Vesper. I loved them all.

ChristineEldin said...

I went to the salon, and now feel ready for the romance of which you speak.

Vesper said...

Jason, first and second person plus the future tense seemed the best choice for this little piece. I’m glad you liked it. Thank you!

Thank you, Aine. A daydream, yes… :-)

Lisa, thank you so much! It’s part of what I felt…

Morinn, welcome and thank you! I’m glad you liked it.

Thanks, Christine! I love romantic scenes… I hope you’ve had your own after coming back from the salon… :-)

Bernita, thank you!

Taffiny, then part of its purpose was achieved. :-) I’m happy! Thank you so much!

I’m glad you found it romantic, Szelsofa, thank you! It’s nice to daydream every now and then… :-)

Akasha, oh, romance it’s nice… :-) Thank you!

Sarah, you’re very kind and I thank you very much. I’m very glad you liked it!

Absolute Vanilla (& Atyllah) said...

There is some wonderfully lyrical writing here, Vesper. As others have said, it evokes a daydream, whispered memories and dreams, gauzy and drifting.
If this is the rough draft, I'd love to see the final version!
Hugs.

Minx said...

Brilliant! I really liked this and want to know more.

strugglingwriter said...

Very nice work. Makes me feel that feeling you have when you first meet someone and you are both so into each other.

I liked the imagery here: "your blue sweater distinct among the grey river of suits, your wheat coloured hair catching the early light"

Paul

PS Thanks for reading and commenting on my story I posted on my blog.

Ello said...

Vesper, usually I dont like second person, but here it was perfect from beginning to end. Your way with words is like poetry in prose. I admire your work so much.

Vesper said...

Vanilla, your words go to my heart. Thank you! What we plan for the future is a rough draft, isn't it? (plus I was very ill when I wrote this, coughing my heart out, and I really wanted to post it for Valentine's day.)xoxoxo

Minx, I saw your comment the first thing yesterday morning (Vanilla's I had seen the night before) and it made my day! Thank you, dear Minx!

Paul, you're right, it is like this, when everything is new, and fresh, and hopeful. Thank you for reading this and for your nice comments.
It is my pleasure to read your work. :-)

Ello, you're so very kind, I'm very, very glad that you liked this and I thank you from my heart.

witnessing am i said...

Oh Daniel, I remember Daniel from one of the first posts I read.

This is lovely, a lovely love song. I too want to know more, I want to see more of this couple.

Vesper said...

So, you remember... Thank you for remembering and for your very kind words, dear David.

laughingwolf said...

just found this, v... touched me completely... very nicely done :D

[who sez ol wuffs can't be sentimental? ;)]

Vesper said...

Ol wuff, it must've been some sort of telepathy that took me here where I found your comment...wow!

I'm very touched... Thank you!!!
:-)