The Cross Over

I’ve missed him so much. Even though we didn’t really see each other often, knowing I can easily pop by to see him when things got hairy made not seeing him a bit more bearable. Ten days of being in separate states and less frequent, shorter phone calls nearly pushed me over the edge.

I decided to surprise him by meeting him at the airport. I took the day off from work, dressed carefully in a cute but not too dressy all black skirt & shirt ensemble with red shoes. I had to rush a bit – ran all the way from the parking lot to baggage claim because I was running late, as usual.

I saw him riding down the escalator. Edward was wearing a Kelly green polo shirt with jeans faded in all the right places. Oh, and he was wearing his glasses that made him look a bit older and earnest. When he saw me, his face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. He walked briskly where I stood, put his arms around my waist tightly, picked me off the ground and twirled us around. Oh, the joy of making him happy.

When we arrived at his apartment, he quickly ran his bags up to his living quarters while I volunteered to bring in his camera case along with the groceries we picked up on the way. Edward had a dark room on the bottom floor workshop. I yelled out to find out if he wanted the cameras in the dark room or was I suppose to bring them upstairs. He didn’t quite catch what I said and bellowed, “Did you say you’re glad I’m back?”

That triggered the mischievous imp in me so I hollered, “Honey, I’m home! Don’t I get a kiss?” The response I got was stark silence which worried me. A few seconds later, I heard him come down the stairs slowly. He peeked around the corner to where I was standing next to the dark room and gave me a very intent stare.

I could tell there was something brewing in his head. He looked serious and a bit smoldering that my breath hitched and faltered. By the time he walked over to where I stood, my heart was racing and I was struggling not to melt like pudding on the floor.

Edward kissed me so passionately that it actually scared me. Up to that point, we’ve always been sweet but distant with our physical encounters. We were always careful not to cross any lines neither one of us were ready to traverse, which we’ve extensively discussed during the course of our short relationship.

This time, it felt like Edward pulled out all the stops. Our hands were all over each other, our bodies were molded together in ways we’ve never connected before, I was hanging on to him like I was drowning, and he was kissing my neck like he was diabetic and I was made of insulin.

I finally had to disengage from him. Me! That was completely a surprise because I’ve never had much of a self control but I did ask him to stop, although it wasn’t too convincing. That’s when he looked at me intently and said, “Don’t ask me to stop because I don’t think I can. I think I’ve fallen in love with you. I want to know if you love me too. Tell me you feel the same way as I do.”

Sh*t and sedition! How can a girl say no to that? Well, my problem was I couldn’t say anything at all. My vocal chords were either lying in the puddle by my feet or Edward has aspirated them somehow. Instead, I just closed my eyes, leaned forward, kissed him and pulled our bodies as tightly as I could.

Let me just say that wherever we ended, it was incredible. Three hours later, I found myself trembling (in sheer pleasure or extreme exhaustion) in Edward’s arms. I was satiated and content, but I haven’t forgotten the whole FedEx prank he played on me.

While lying there in his arms, I told him how I had dinner with my ex-husband and the kids over the weekend. My husband has expressed he wanted to get back together and move back in the house. I turned my face to watch Edward’s reaction and I said, “So I said yes and he’s moved back in.”

Edward jumped out of the bed with so much distress on his face. He found his jeans, pulled them on hastily and howled like a strangled kitten. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Before I made love to you?!” He paced up and down the house, looking angry and sad and really agitated. He kept repeating, “Oh, my god,” with different stresses, inflections and emotions.

I just sat on the bed and watched him go on full meltdown mode with a morose look on my face. I let it go on for a good ten minutes or so. When I sensed that he was getting close to actually shedding tears, I called out to him. When he stood in front of me with that heart-broken look on his face, I smiled and said, “Just kidding. I’m still yours.”

I really loved watching his expressions change. From that pathetic face to a shining smile, I was addicted to his ever changing moods. He ran to the side of the bed and knelt down on the floor. “Don’t do that again,” he said. While kneeling there, he opened a drawer on the side table and pulled out a small box.

It was my turn to panic then. Commitment-phobic, remember? It was an alarm-inducing position if there ever was one. “Oh my god, Edward. You don’t have to overreact. Everything’s cool,” as my voice escalated an octave higher with every word. He said, “Relax. I’m not going to ask you to marry me. Not yet.” He handed me the box and asked me to open it. Inside was a key to his apartment with keychain bearing a reminder to his alarm security code engraved on the face – “Redemption”.

I guess since we moved our relationship to a whole different level that day, there was no reason left to pretend that he and I were not serious with each other. I didn’t plan or even expected to get that close to Edward in such a short time period, but I did. Unbeknownst to either of us, there was no redemption in our future, in the sense of liberation, emancipation or recovery. There is, however, a conversion or trade-in; and, in my case, he was a kind of salvation.