“I’m Viv,” I say, as I shake your slender hand. The first thing I notice are your earrings – feathery and dangly and brushing your freckled shoulders. Only I don’t know they’re freckled yet. The second thing is your smile. You have crooked teeth, like me. Your smile is wide and welcoming and disarming. Your dimples tell me I should trust you.
Then I look at your eyes, chocolate porter-colored behind small, rectangle-framed glasses. They unfurl like a whirlpool in reverse. At first I only see colors, sparkling and bright. Fireworks and fairy lights. Then the images start to come into view.
I’m scooping your knees up while your arms hang tight around my neck so a stranger in front of Ghirardelli Square can take our photo. You’re eating mochi on a stick, giggling while we walk around a festival in Japantown with my friends. We’re on the tilt-a-whirl at the Santa Cruz boardwalk, spinning as fast as we can while I try not to crush you. We’re slow dancing to “My Funny Valentine” at Martuni’s, your red satin dress melting my hands. We’re lying on a blanket in Dolores Park, my arm around you, your head nestled into my chest, soaking up unexpected sunshine. My family is telling me how much they adore you.
You’re on your hands and knees on a spanking bench while I tower above you, flogging you. You’re flush with almost-coming, your eyes shut tight, your head thrown back. We’re kissing and kissing and kissing and kissing, hands all over each other. I’m ripping a towel off of you so I can get one of your nipples into my mouth as quickly as possible. We’re making love quietly and urgently in my parent’s house, shuddering and soaking the sheets.
You’re telling me you foresaw this – we would either get closer, or we would break up. I’m regretting the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. I’m sobbing as I walk down 24th street in the Mission, not really knowing where I’m going. You’re looking at me with eyes that say, “Why have you broken my heart?” I’m looking inside, unable to find a good answer. I’m writing you an apology. You’re writing me an update. We’re meeting for the first time in a long time with faint smiles on our faces and hope in our hearts. We’re hugging goodbye and saying how happy we are to be friends.
“Nice to meet you,” you say. “I’m Emma.”