After that night the touch of Penny’s lips lingered on mine in perpetuity. I could taste her tongue. I could feel the warmth of her skin. To this day I cannot explain the kind of cosmic connection with her. I could feel her. Her thoughts, her feelings, her. She had become a part of me.

As I lay there on the bed on what would seem to be a mundane Saturday, my mind went into overdrive. It was like I split into a million fragments and went down each possible fractal in an infinite Mandelbrot set until I played out each potential outcome that could possibly occur. From “forever & always” to “total annihilation”. And then, I called her.

When she answered, she was lying down on her bed. She had on a comfortable pink shirt. The kind of shirt that is a little old, a little frayed, stretched a little too much, but one which afforded a sense of familiarity and comfort. She had a weird smile on her face when she answered. One that was a combination of excitement, embarrassment and anticipation. I stumbled like a fourteen year old until I got to the point and actually asked her out on a date. She agreed. There was a whole lot of awkward silence after that and we both laughed like teenagers. I don’t think either of us had felt that feeling in a long time.

The conversations ensued over DMs. Texts became sexts. Conversations plagued with double entendres. Sideward glances exchanged. Stolen smiles shared. A few minutes of verbal conversations where everything else just blurred and it was just the two of us. The primal physical craving now superseding all inhibitions. Curiosity overtaking fear, we made a date for the following Wednesday.

As I got ready and left, I glanced at the mirror. The version of me in there asked – Are you sure about this? Is this you? You’ve never done this kind of thing before. But the question was rhetorical. There was no stopping the things I had set in motion. The kraken was already released.

As I made my way to her, my heart pumped faster than the wings of a hummingbird. My blood boiled with lust thirsty for her. I had on an oversized plain white tee and blue jeans. My signature trademark. The cool guy. She walked in wearing a blue floral dress with a halter neck. The clothes were on our back as fleetingly as a whisper in a roaring tempest.

Our bodies moved in synchrony, writhing in ecstasy. Heart pounding, sweat pouring, skin melding until we hit the zenith and sunk into the bed next to each other completely spent. We lay there catching our breath.

She turned to face me, looked deep into my eyes, staring right into my soul and point blank asked me – Don’t you feel any guilt?

I looked at hear dead in the eye and said – Maybe 20%. She seemed confused at how I had rationalized that quantum.

I did what I had never done before. I took a deep breath and unleashed my deepest darkest secret. The blood sweat and tears spilt over the past six years with nothing in return. The weight of the yoke which had dug deep into my shoulders. The blood had run freely on my back. The helplessness. The loneliness. The strength that I had to muster to keep going because if I hadn’t all those who drew the blood from my well would wither. A lonely tear blinked back.

She looked into my eyes seeing the pain and recognizing it. She released her own floodgates. Walking me through the series of trauma that had sunk their claws into her and plucked out her entrails. Eventually leading her to pick up the pieces and rebuild herself in the best way she could. Now standing tall without any reliance on anyone. A lonely tear slipped out and rolled across her silken cheek and onto my chest.

We embraced each other with an intention to never let go. We sunk into each other effortlessly. We’d found home.

Part 4 – Finding Shelter