My first memory of you is in that car. Our first kiss. Your shocked expression. That moment was so unexpected. So sudden. So forbidden. And thus so sweet. It was in the middle of something. I don’t remember what anymore. It wasn’t the night the rain made the city go crazy…and our first taxi ride through the cold streets of our city together. It wasn’t even the time you got drunk and I had to drive you around to find food and shelter. This moment came from a different night. What we did then, I have no recollection of.
I remember you chattering away. Something vague. Trying to sound knowledgeable, an attempt to impress. It didn’t work. I had only been concentrating on your lips that entire evening… hoping, wondering, thinking when would you stop all that jabbering and just kiss me. But you didn’t. Not even with a feeble attempt. You were the perfect gentleman.
And somewhere I started feeling dejected. As if, you didn’t want me. As if, I had read the signals wrong. And so I took the initiative. It was at that crossing. You remember where. You were talking about how the timing was all wrong, how we all had responsibilities and something about our paths never crossing.
That was when I told you to stop the car.
And you did. There were bright lights around us. And you looked at me, suddenly prudish. And I stared at you for a split second. I knew it then. The signal was not wrong. I closed my eyes, leaned across, and kissed you. Gently. Deeply.
Our lives were never the same after that. A roller coaster into madness. That’s what it was. Madness. I don’t know if it was worth it for you. But it was for me.
I don’t know where we go from here. All I know is that my first memory of you...will be etched in my heart forever.