We talked through the normal adult talk. Work, kids (hers), where we lived, how we were doing. I didn't mention my girlfriend, and she only said, "Oh, Jon's Jon," when I asked. We talked some more, but then we talked less. That was the way it had always gone:(more) gulfs of silence that weren't awkward, just a space for everything to lay. Just part of the game.
She walked out with me and we started talk again about old times. "Should we walk on the roof of the arts building again?" she teased. “Like that night you walked me home?”
"You insisted we go up there, as I recall,” I said.
“Mmm hmm. I loved that building. Guess I wanted to show it to you.”
We were at my hotel. I felt seedy and excited and embarrassed. The silence lay open between us again. I stepped into it. I took her hand, which felt corny, so I leaned in. Closer. Was she surprised? She didn’t move.
I kissed her. She was unsure. I put my other hand on her back and the kiss opened. Like an old wound, opened up and fresh again. It was painful and pleasurable and exciting and new and old. The kiss ended and our heads stayed close. Once we separated that would be all.
“You never kissed me before.”
“I should have. I wanted to.”
“Our first kiss,” she laughed. It felt like a cruel joke, but it was a joke on both of us so we both laughed.
We parted, finally. She walked home and I went to the hotel elevator. To the rooftop. Just to think a little before packing and leaving.