Hours after she left, I woke up alone and felt exquisitely naked. Sticky all over with dried sweat and saliva, I could still smell her on my skin, like yogurt and rosewater. I sat up studied myself in the mirror. My rust-red hair and cream-white skin. My every curve looked pink and puckered like her lips after a long, wet kiss. I lifted my arms above my tangled hair, arched my back, and admired myself. I thought, at twenty-six I had peaked. I was a hotel-room Aphrodite, rising from the froth of rumpled, white bedsheets.
Inspired, I snatched up my phone on the bedside table and thumbed out a text.
It was a quotation that I knew by heart, "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom" - Anias Nin. I hesitated to hit send, worried that it might be a bit much. The whole night had already been a bit much.
I read the text over and over mulling its subtext. Was I asking her to change her life? I considered something safer - just letting her know she had left behind her two strapless bras, both currently folded on the loveseat. No, I thought, what if her boyfriend saw the text? Finally putting the phone aside, I ran my fingernails over my bare belly, a cool breeze snuck in through the cracked window, crept up my thighs, and whispered on my cunt.
It said, "This is what if feels like to blossom."
Twenty-two hours earlier, in a hideous, mauve bridesmaid dress, I hopped in the backseat of our rental car, and my boyfriend, Dave, looking smart in a classic tuxedo, got in to drive. She was in the back seat next to me, in an identical, hideous bridesmaid dress. Her boyfriend, also named Dave, took shotgun and complained about his hangover. As we drove up the hill to the old music hall for the reception, the Daves told college stories and guffawed.
She turned to me and said, "Fuck you for looking so cute in this hideous dress."
Then she, who hadn't given more than a Mona Lisa smile in two dozen wedding photos, grinned wide and ultra-bright, eyes crinkled and wicked. She was Korean-American, with lithe, limber arms, and a long, delicate neck. I smiled back.
"We decided the six of us will burn them in a bonfire on the beach," I quipped.
"Ah, and dance naked around the fire naked like witches." Her delicate hint of a British accent made my pulse rattle.
"They better have the booze flowing," complained her Dave up front. My Dave agreed.
"Please don't overdo it again," she said curtly. The Daves shouted "hair of the dog" and howled. Her pretty smile retreated. Her face turned to stone.
I reached over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze, but to my surprise, she interlaced her fingers. We held hands secretly for the entire seven-minute ride. I could hardly breathe.
Later, my Dave escorted me into the crowded ballroom while her Dave went straight to the bar. My Dave noticed that I seemed flustered. I told him I just hadn't eaten anything yet and was lightheaded. Across the ballroom, I watched her stand by the balcony and gaze blankly down the hill out to sea. I looked away for fear he'd catch me staring at her.
Hand on my back, he steered me towards the banquet tables.
For the last two years, my Dave had been my comfort zone. He was kind, dependable, and committed. He had a cute square jaw that made me think of Mounties. We reached our table and was the first one in the room to sit down. Dave bent down and kissed the top of my head.
"Don't you want to mingle?" He asked, and I shrugged.
"I don't know anyone."
"You know Dave and Jillian."
Her name was Ji-yeon, but even though she was the girlfriend of his best friend from college, he always mispronounced it.
"Do I? I just met them two days ago." I said, pretending indifference.
"You and Jillian seemed to be thick as thieves last night."
"It's "Jee-Yee-On." We just like the same music. I don't know. She's moody."
"Well, you have that in common, too." As he turned away, annoyed, I grabbed his arm.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I'll make an effort." Satisfied, he kissed my forehead and continued out towards another table of his college friends. With his back turned I switched the name tags around at the place settings so Ji-yeon would be sitting next to me.
Both Daves smiled from afar and raised their cocktails as I cut through the crowd and walked towards the balcony. They thought I was being a good sport.
As I approached, I was treated to a long look at Ji-Yeon from the rear. Her slender torso sprouted from the plump heart of her draped ass. She was my height, my dress size, and my shoe size, and while I did look cute in the hideous gown, she looked royal. She looked like a Disney princess who had wandered into a film noir and taken up smoking.
"Got another?" I said, even though I didn't smoke. She shook her head and handed hers over to me. I tried to look as cool as she did as I took a drag. I failed.
"How does it fit?" She said, looking down at my boobs.
I coughed and nearly dropped her cigarette. She wasn't talking about the dress. About an hour before the ceremony I realized I had forgotten to pack a strapless bra. She had let me borrow one of hers. It was spooky how identical our proportions were. We were like matching dolls hand-painted with different features and tones. I handed her cigarette back to her.
"Like Cinderella's slipper."
She nodded as if sharing underwear and cigarettes was just something people did, and looked back out at the seascape below. For a long time, we didn't say anything.
The night before at the rehearsal dinner, we couldn't stop talking about moody 80s bands like "My Bloody Valentine," and I suspected she was bisexual. When she held my hand in the car I was certain of it. Now, I felt like I was very close to making an absolute fool of myself.
Yet something about her silky hair, sad little frown, and flawless posture made me want to fuck her so badly I feared I might burn my house to the ground just to give it try.
"I'd really like to draw you some time," I stammered foolishly.
"What for?"
"I...I...I just like drawing people. Your body interests...is interesting. I'm a graphic artist, so..." My voice trailed off hopelessly.
