He called at 11:45.
"Kiki?"
"Yeah. Who's this?"
"It's me. What are you doing? Are you asleep?"
"No. No. I'm watching SNL."
"Oh. Well, come outside. I brought you a cherry limeade slush."
So I plodded into my plain white room and after digging through enough clothes for a family of five I found my favourite black sweater. At the bottom of the stairs, I slipped my feet into my little red-and-white flats that look like Canadian flags and stole into the still night.
"You look beautiful."
"Thanks."
"Wanna go sit in the car?"
"Why not?"
He led me by the hand and I felt an intimacy I had wanted so much before. We got in. And he touched my face. And I slapped his hand away.
"You are a hedonistic bastard."
And he just laughed.
"When we have sex, we don't talk or disagree. I think those are our best times together. So do you want to get in the backseat?"
"Why the hell not?"
And he kissed me. And I kissed him back. And then we made love. And for two hours, while the windows fogged and then condensed, while two cars drove by, while somebody turned on their porch light, while the moon got lower in the sky, while our families slept, while the world kept spinning, we were the only two people on earth who were truly alive.
And then it was over. We stepped out of the little car, clothed ourselves, clothed in silence, kissed each other, and said
"Good morning."