The Way Young Lovers Do
Have sex, that is. When maybe they shouldn’t. Except that it feels right. No strings attached.
Anne Sexton, 29 Apr 2010
We’re bombing down the highway, at least thirty kilometres over the speed limit. If you’re not going at least ten kilometres faster than the recommended 120 per hour, grannies, buses and lumbering delivery trucks will overtake you, and in the slow lane too.
It’s safer to go fast. If not, chances are you’ll get rear-ended and cause a five-car pile-up – a typical day on South African roads.
The sky is huge and the sun is shining, but up ahead dark clouds are gathering. As we drive, the sky breaks open with a thunderous boom. Torrential raindrops as big as mice pour out of the sky.
Ten minutes later it’s all over and the sun is shining again – just a typical summer storm.
“There’s cold beer in the back if you want one,” he says.
Drinking in the car? I may not be behind the wheel, but it’s still illegal. The grown-up, sensible, Irish part of me worries about getting stopped by the police and all the trouble that will entail; the teenage, reckless, South African side of me knows we could probably bribe the cops if necessary. For once, the mature side wins.
“Maybe later,” I say.
It feels a little like the old days. I remember all the nights we tore around the city in his messed up red pick-up, drinking beers or smoking joints. Talking of which, there are probably drugs in the car somewhere too.
“There’s hash in the cubby-hole if you prefer,” he says.
Of course there is – that’s just typical of him.
He turns around and smiles. He’s older, sadder and wiser than he used to be, but the smile lights up his face. He radiates the bright shining light of a genuinely good person, which is why I feel safe with him, despite the fact that he always was a bit of a lawless hedonist. But then, that’s one of the things I always liked about him; that, and the fact that he is beautiful.
The smile is somewhat disconcerting.
“Uh oh,” I think. “Not this again.”
I don’t want to find him attractive, but he is. I have always thought so, and it seems I always will. I can’t help it – it’s just typical of me.
Page 1/3 <Previous 1 2 3 Next>
©Hot Press 2011. Why be a member? | Terms of Service | Privacy Policy