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He moved in the bed and she hurried back into it, desperate to glean the last precious hour of their time together. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was night again and they still had some time.
But he was waking up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, rubbing his hands over his jaw with its darkening stubble.
Soon, he’d be leaving.
She was crying when he moved hard against her, his body heavy and warm.
‘Don’t be sad,’ he said, lowering his head and kissing the saltiness of her tears.
‘I’m not,’ she said, crying more. ‘I mean, I don’t mean to. I’ll miss you, I can’t bear it.’
‘You have to, we both have to.’
She’d never known that love could be so joyous and so agonising at the same time. Every caress took them closer to his leaving. Each time he touched her, she couldn’t block out the thought: Is this the last time he’ll ever do that? Will I ever see him again?
She could barely stop the tears. But she did, because she had to.
In the end, she lay silently in the bed watching him get ready. Just before he left, he sat beside her, pulled her close and kissed her as if she was oxygen he was breathing in.
Her hands clung to him, one curved tightly around his neck, the other cradling his skull. They kissed with their eyes closed so they’d never forget.
‘I have to go. I love you.’
She couldn’t speak in case she cried again.
‘Goodbye.’
He didn’t look back as he left and she wondered if that was the difference between men and women. Men looked forward, warriors focusing on the future. Women’s eyes darted everywhere. Searching, wondering, praying to some god to keep the people they loved safe.
She lay back in the bed still warm with the imprint of his body, and wondered if she would ever see him again.
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