The End

I looked to my right. Lying next to me was she. Her slumber, a shroud for the turbulence between us. A turbulence, that was hardly emotional. I fingered the curved lane on her back. Beauty. She smiled in her sleep. I clutched her hand and squeezed it tight. I would not let go. I fingered my cleavage and recollected the several times she found it sensuous. I wonder if he will like it, too. I don’t know. Maybe he won’t touch me the way she does; won’t look into my eyes with the warmth of sunlit love; won’t run his fingers down my neck and tickle me with naughtiness spilling from his eyes onto my mouth. I sighed. Tomorrow I was getting married. To a man! It’s bad enough it’s not with the woman I am in love with…but a man!? It was a beginning, all right. A darned fucked up beginning. No one understands. Except for those NGOs who keep fighting for our justice. Even if we are legally clean, who’s to say whether people will accept us? She doesn’t mind. She lives for herself. I care. I care about being frowned upon by colleagues, friends, family. I care. So, I am getting married. Yes. I can’t go through the mess. Poor my baby, she doesn’t even know that tonight is the end. Forever. There she is, sleeping through my slow death. Blissful, in her own carefree world. Someday, she too will get married. To a MAN. Then she will understand. And forgive me.
I bent down and kissed her nose, and slowly, made my way to those chapped lips I have always known as ‘home’. She kissed me back. With a fervor, that made me sure that she knew. She held me in her arms, and I succumbed to sleep. All the while aware of the tomorrow. All the while reluctantly watching time present tomorrow. A beginning with all its newness and all its vulgarity.