Page 40

Chapter 38

Guy

We spent a semi-hungover morning in bed. It was our last morning together, the last day before our bubble was popped and the tide of reality washed back in. We both knew it. We didn’t talk much, focusing instead on our bodies. That included intense snuggling and some of our signature love-making. I wanted to make sure Kitty went away feeling to her bones how much I loved her.

We eventually faced the outside world and found a place to have brunch on a patio. It was hot, but we kept the brunch cocktails coming. We were lazy bums having a hair of the dog. Our hands laced and unlaced. We both bore physical signs of our love: love bites and hickeys. After a few cocktails, Kitty fully sat in my lap. I’m sure we looked insane to the other diners and passersby, but I didn’t care. I needed as much Kitty as I could get.

We both had to be at the airport at around five. Luckily, we were in the same terminal at LaGuardia. We went through security together and put off going to our gates as long as possible, an unspoken agreement.

But the time came and we had to face it. Kitty stood, holding my hands, tears brimming in her eyes and staring at my shirt.

“I hate airports,” she whimpered.

“Why?”

“It’s where we say goodbye,” she gasped. The sob she’d been fighting slipped out of her. Her wet eyes met mine. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

I wiped her cheek with my thumb. “Then don’t.”

Kitty hiccuped. She laughed, then cried more. “But then what?”

I held her face in my hands, speaking slowly. “Then I’ll call you later, and you’ll answer. We’ll keep talking. We just won’t stop. It won’t be goodbye.”

Kitty’s eyes volleyed back and forth between mine. “What will it be?”

I smiled down at her, tears coming to me, too. Mine were happy tears, though. “It’ll be us trying.”

Kitty’s face brightened. Her arms went around my neck. I bent so she could grab me as tight as I knew she wanted. I lifted her off her feet, crushing her to me. She wrapped her legs around my waist, my little koala. I held her up as she gripped my face, bringing our foreheads together.

“I love you, Guy Stelle,” she whispered.

“I love you, too, Kitty Gatto.” We kissed, but not for long. We were still in public and though we’re weird, we’re not that weird. I put her back on her feet. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

Her eyes sparkled, her tears dry. A smile crept across her face. “Okay.”

And with one last peck and squeeze, we went our separate ways.

Part 6: Coda 1

1 . coda (noun): a concluding part of a literary or dramatic work