Jealous of Me

 Jealous of Me


Two cases of infinite love

 

The couple was lying in bed, still and silent. Sadness invaded their faces. You could hardly find another adjective to describe the expression on their faces.

While caressing her face with tender care, he began to talk.

"Honey, your face is so cold," after kissing her cheek, he reached for her hands and rubbed them. He tried to warm them with his breath. She remained motionless, sunken deeply in her sleep. The night she had been comfortingly cool. He loved the way her cold skin felt. Whenever they went to the movies, he urged her to wear a short skirt to slide his hand between her legs. He had always loved that feeling. Her skin was always a few degrees cooler than his. But this morning, she was a bit colder than usual.

"I had a nice dream," he continued, "but it wasn't completely nice. It was bordering between happy and sad, between ecstasy and misery. A little bit sadomasochistic. Let me explain. I was flirting with you but wasn't sure it was me. And when you responded to my flirtations, I felt cheated and got jealous."

Her eyes had remained closed the entire time, but he knew she was listening to him. She was that way sometimes, reflective and profound; she had the quietness of a tender poem. Yes, that's the correct description.

And he proceeded, ". . . and then I had a whole affair with you. We shared our love and had a glorious climax. But I wasn't sure it was me, so I felt betrayed. And the happier I saw you, the more miserable I felt. You displayed enormous joy, yes, your enjoyment had been immense, but the love you felt seemed illicit to me because I wasn't sure it was me giving it."

She remained immobile, her eyes squinting as if concentrating and relishing the conversation.

"I know it sounds silly, but my dreams are so real I woke up with tears. I'm sure you know I had loved no one before you. I belong only to you."
 
 He was tempted to lift the sheets and caress her legs but refrained and continued talking.
 
 "The last time I made love to you was as good as the first time. Honey, I love you so much you could not love me more than I love you. I owe all the happiness of my life to you."
 
 And then, after all, he couldn't contain his desire and caressed her legs.
 
 Then, he became aware that the pause had been too long. And she had never ignored him for so long.
 
 "Honey, are you awake . . . ?"
 
 A sweet word, a question, and then he pulled the plug.
 
 She had been in a deep coma for the last three months. He had blamed himself for the accident. And rightly so, because there was no need to text her. She was right there in the car with him. A moment before he sent the message, he was caressing her legs. She was wearing a short skirt. When the police rescued them from the wreckage, they found the phone. The message said, "I love you, honey." Three hopeless months had passed. He chose that day for a specific reason.—It was her birthday.

 A moment before he disconnected the plug, he had taken an entire bottle of sleeping pills.

 
 
 
*****




He was profoundly asleep when she awoke. But she didn't dare to interrupt his dreams. He had been working hard the day before. He seemed like a baby, sweet and innocent. She knew he was sweet and gentle. She loved him more than she loved her life. She wasn't afraid to love him more than he loved her. She wasn't selfish. She knew life would cease to exist for her, too, the moment he died.

One of her fears was that their love would stop growing. It made her sad to see other couples fall out of love. That would never happen to them, she thought.

She wished to be inside his dreams, to participate in his dreams and desires. She wished she was the only object of his passions, even in his dreams.
 
 The love she felt for him had been at its peak for a long time. She hoped it remained there forever.

She began to talk to him gently as if singing a lullaby to a baby.

"Honey, I want to tell you that my love for you has increased daily since I first met you. I love you more today than yesterday and will love you more tomorrow. I want to tell you that I need a bigger heart because my love for you is overflowing. And you're not helping because everything you do makes me love you more. Every morning when I open my eyes and see you next to me, I ask for nothing else. My happiness is complete."

Her strong desire to touch him surpassed the risk of waking him up. Even so, she began to caress his face and kept talking.
 
 "I know it sounds silly, but if all people could love the way I do, wars wouldn't exist. The word 'hate' would disappear from dictionaries. There would be floods of happiness all around the world. Wouldn't that be wonderful?" she softly kissed his eyelids and continued. "I don't know if I could love another man as I love you. I mean, if I hadn't met you, would I have been able to love another man the same way? Do I love you so much because it's you? I mean, you are generating the love I feel. You are the cause, and you are the source, the origin. See how silly it is. I can't even explain myself."
 
 Then, with her fingers, she began to comb his hair.
 
 "I enjoy going to the movies with you because I love to feel your warm hands between my legs. You drive me crazy. I must also tell you that my life is a blessing, and I thank you for all the happiness you've given me. And one more thing, I beg you to take me with you when you die. I know I couldn't resist living a moment without you. I love you, honey."
 
 
 
 

Edmundo Barraza
Lancaster, Ca. 08-18-2016
Posted on Blogger.com 08-18-2016
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