Ide

I followed the rhythm of our bodies, tried to lose myself in the passion. But as soon as I reached the peak, I knew it wasn't enough, knew that I would soon be falling back to reality, back to the bottom of life. He came to soon after. Climbing off of him, cramped in the humid car, I half sat next to him, slipping on my underwear, dragging on my tight jeans over my sweaty legs. I buttoned by shirt, noticed a button missing. I sighed, ran my hands through my short hair, trying to tame it back to something not so mussed. He watched me the whole while, trying to breathe deep and slowly, calming the heart I had felt racing against my own a few minutes earlier. I leaned over to give him one more kiss, and then reached over to open the door. A hand grabbed my other wrist. “Wait.” His voice was deep, nice, actually. “Ide. Please.” “No, Mark. I’m going.” I shook his hand off, reached over to open the door once more. “Will I ever see you again, Ide?” “No. You will not. And if you do, I will not recognize you, because my name is not Ide.” “It isn’t?” I had startled him. Why? What could it matter to him? We were strangers. “No. Don’t ask me my real one, I won’t give it.” I got out of the car, saw his still half naked form. “I had a good time, Mark. Thanks.” He laughed a dry, sarcastic laugh. “Do you do this often?” He asked, just as I was shutting the door. “Does it matter?” “It was my first time, doing it with a lady I just met.” “Well, I’m no lady. So goodbye, Mark. Don’t lose yourself in this shit situation, if you can help it.” The door shut with a click and I walked away, the cool night breeze refreshing. It was around three in the morning, but I decided to walk home anyway, the city’s blocks as forlorn and dark as my soul. It was around four a.m. when I reached the door to my apartment, opened it, walked up the old and creaky stairs, up onto the third floor, apartment number seven. There, once I shut the door behind me, I let out another sigh, exhausted. Locking the door, dropping the keys into a ceramic bowl, the clang of the action followed me all the way to the small bathroom, with the old bathtub. I turned on the hot water, and took off my clothes, slowly. Then I sat on its edge, in front of the mirror, waiting for it to fill up.