My First Time (pc)

by shyster

Posted to Stories on 2002-10-19 08:30:00

Everything feels so new.

I awake and turn over to find her still asleep. I have total recall after one deliciously dull second. The smell of her skin is electric like freshly cut grass after a rainstorm. I leave her to sleep and stand in a hot shower letting the water erode away my sleepiness.

Breakfast at a café is awkward and filling. I tackle the super portion Bellybuster while she demonstrates ladylike restraint. Afterwards we walk silently hand in hand past the shops on the high street. She pauses to peer at the wedding dresses on display, since there’s always a new one every time she’s here. I stare at our reflections trying to make out my eyes and half-listen to her standard criticisms of the ‘meringue’ style of the dress. She squeezes my hand and startles me out of myself.

“Shall we go?” She’s looking at me, softly quizzical. The wind whips up the other way and drags her blonde curls in front of her eyes. It’s beautiful and I tell her so, that with her shiny smile and blue eyes peeking through a golden veil of soft spirals, she looks clothed in sunshine, like she was born to sunshine, that the sunshine loves her and I can smell it in her skin.

She’s embarrassed and smiles and blushes pink.

“More like the sunset now?” she jokes, and then tugs me towards the train station, wrapping her arm tight around my lower back.

We say goodbye with a long hug that feels like autumn. I kiss her and she smiles. Then she looks at me quizzically again before getting on the train.
“Everything’s OK, right?” I nod, and she looks assured and gives me a grin and promises herself to me next weekend.
“I’ll cook,” she shouts from the open window, her hair pulled across her face again as I laugh. I burnt the pizzas to a crisp.

As I leave the station, I remember what I said to her at the shop window and feel silly. I tell myself this will die down, perfectly natural, no need to feel silly and I believe myself. Until I arrive.

When I get there I’m waiting on a seat in a corridor with people being pushed past like fortune cookies for my fears. They call my number. I get up almost dizzy and ask a nurse the way to the oncology outpatients department.

“First time?” she asks, with one eye on a ledger and one eye on my soul.
“Yep.” I reply, trying a smile which she returns.
“Ok, follow me.”

She walks off down the corridor and I follow, feeling like it’s my first day at school and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to my mother.