London 15 - 17 March 2024 - Part 18
The Long Goodbye
Dan signals for the bill. Pays with one of his cards. Calls our car.
It has started to drizzle outside. The smokers and the hardy souls finding themselves less hardy. Driven indoors by nature's inclemency.
We wait by the window. Watching the gap at the end of Dirty Lane, where the car will appear, stop, wait for us. The space where we stand is small. Becoming more crowded. Our bodies touch. An energetic exchange. We do not pull apart.
The car is there. We squeeze through the door. Run the short distance through the damp air. The driver is out, holding my door open. I dive in. Dan sprints around to the other side, as the driver closes the door behind me. I reach for my seat belt.
Dan settles beside me. We are moving. Not fast, not too fast. Nothing moves too fast in London traffic.
"You told me I wouldn't get my feet wet!"
I get the full twelve-year-old pout into my voice.
Dan rests his right hand on my left thigh.
"I'll dry them for you when we get home."
He kisses me in the lift. Between floors. In the lobby. Between paces. In the flat. Between my left ear and my collar bone.
"Better get out of those damp clothes. Don't want you catching your death!"
I couldn't agree more.
Later. Not much later, we do not have all day. I lie in his arms. If only smoking did not kill you. This would be the best cigarette. Ever. Until the next time.
And I am thinking. Will there be a next time? We have closed the circle. Balanced our unexpected Oxford weekend with this London weekend. When I leave, do I say adieu or au revoir?
I kiss Dan. I say, thank you.
I roll away from his embrace. Sit on the edge of the bed.
"I'm going to have a quick wash. Get my stuff packed."
"Okay."
Sounds like he's no more certain than I am.
I walk to the bathroom. Wash myself. Brush my teeth. Deodorise.
I walk back to Dan's dressing table. He is sitting in bed. Watching me.
I sit. Smile. Brush the tangles from my hair. Repair my makeup. Spray a little Daisy. Just enough to leave my scent here. Dan knows. His turn to smile.
I start to collect my stuff. Packing my vanity case and my oversize overnight bag. I leave out only what I will wear for the journey home. Knickers, socks, a pair of 501s, a tee shirt, a hoodie. My boots and jacket are downstairs.
I start to dress. Dan gets out of bed. Walks to the bathroom. I have been leaving images for him to remember. Now he reciprocates. And I will.
By the time he returns, I am dressed.
"Would you like a coffee before you go?"
I smile. Step towards him. Embrace his nakedness.
"No, thanks, Dan. I'd better get going."
He hugs me back. We are imprinting.
"Okay, just let me put some clothes on."
He dresses quickly.
I check the space. I have forgotten nothing. No excuse for the "Did I leave my… ?" call.
I carry my bags down to the lower level. Sit, put my boots on. Grab my jacket.
I cross to the window. A last look at the damp and, frankly, a bit dreary, view. Last? I wonder. Are we done now, Dan and I?
He takes my bag. Opens the front door. Ushers me out. To and in the lift, we make small talk. Big, important small talk. How good it’s been. How much we enjoyed it, each other.
In the basement, I ping the locks on the Mini. Dan puts my overnight bag and vanity case in the boot. I throw my jacket onto the back seat. My handbag into the passenger footwell.
We look at one another. We embrace. Like lovers do. In this petroleum dungeon. We kiss goodbye.
"I'll walk up to the gate. Let you out."
"Thanks."
Dan sets off. I get into the Mini, start it up. Reverse out of the V2 space.
I circle the parking area, drive up the ramp.
Dan is waiting by the security gates. They are not open.
I lower my window.
Adieu? Au revoir?
Dan touches his card to the reader. The gates begin to roll back. He bends down to my window.
"Can I call you?"
The gates are fully open. I smile.
"Yes, I'd like that."
I start to roll forward. I turn one more time towards my open window.
"Soon!"
I hope he hears me.
Dan signals for the bill. Pays with one of his cards. Calls our car.
It has started to drizzle outside. The smokers and the hardy souls finding themselves less hardy. Driven indoors by nature's inclemency.
We wait by the window. Watching the gap at the end of Dirty Lane, where the car will appear, stop, wait for us. The space where we stand is small. Becoming more crowded. Our bodies touch. An energetic exchange. We do not pull apart.
The car is there. We squeeze through the door. Run the short distance through the damp air. The driver is out, holding my door open. I dive in. Dan sprints around to the other side, as the driver closes the door behind me. I reach for my seat belt.
Dan settles beside me. We are moving. Not fast, not too fast. Nothing moves too fast in London traffic.
"You told me I wouldn't get my feet wet!"
I get the full twelve-year-old pout into my voice.
Dan rests his right hand on my left thigh.
"I'll dry them for you when we get home."
He kisses me in the lift. Between floors. In the lobby. Between paces. In the flat. Between my left ear and my collar bone.
"Better get out of those damp clothes. Don't want you catching your death!"
I couldn't agree more.
Later. Not much later, we do not have all day. I lie in his arms. If only smoking did not kill you. This would be the best cigarette. Ever. Until the next time.
And I am thinking. Will there be a next time? We have closed the circle. Balanced our unexpected Oxford weekend with this London weekend. When I leave, do I say adieu or au revoir?
I kiss Dan. I say, thank you.
I roll away from his embrace. Sit on the edge of the bed.
"I'm going to have a quick wash. Get my stuff packed."
"Okay."
Sounds like he's no more certain than I am.
I walk to the bathroom. Wash myself. Brush my teeth. Deodorise.
I walk back to Dan's dressing table. He is sitting in bed. Watching me.
I sit. Smile. Brush the tangles from my hair. Repair my makeup. Spray a little Daisy. Just enough to leave my scent here. Dan knows. His turn to smile.
I start to collect my stuff. Packing my vanity case and my oversize overnight bag. I leave out only what I will wear for the journey home. Knickers, socks, a pair of 501s, a tee shirt, a hoodie. My boots and jacket are downstairs.
I start to dress. Dan gets out of bed. Walks to the bathroom. I have been leaving images for him to remember. Now he reciprocates. And I will.
By the time he returns, I am dressed.
"Would you like a coffee before you go?"
I smile. Step towards him. Embrace his nakedness.
"No, thanks, Dan. I'd better get going."
He hugs me back. We are imprinting.
"Okay, just let me put some clothes on."
He dresses quickly.
I check the space. I have forgotten nothing. No excuse for the "Did I leave my… ?" call.
I carry my bags down to the lower level. Sit, put my boots on. Grab my jacket.
I cross to the window. A last look at the damp and, frankly, a bit dreary, view. Last? I wonder. Are we done now, Dan and I?
He takes my bag. Opens the front door. Ushers me out. To and in the lift, we make small talk. Big, important small talk. How good it’s been. How much we enjoyed it, each other.
In the basement, I ping the locks on the Mini. Dan puts my overnight bag and vanity case in the boot. I throw my jacket onto the back seat. My handbag into the passenger footwell.
We look at one another. We embrace. Like lovers do. In this petroleum dungeon. We kiss goodbye.
"I'll walk up to the gate. Let you out."
"Thanks."
Dan sets off. I get into the Mini, start it up. Reverse out of the V2 space.
I circle the parking area, drive up the ramp.
Dan is waiting by the security gates. They are not open.
I lower my window.
Adieu? Au revoir?
Dan touches his card to the reader. The gates begin to roll back. He bends down to my window.
"Can I call you?"
The gates are fully open. I smile.
"Yes, I'd like that."
I start to roll forward. I turn one more time towards my open window.
"Soon!"
I hope he hears me.
