I could feel the lumpy stucco through the tape as I pressed it smooth against the wall. The last time we talked it didn't go well. I stumbled all over my feelings for her and nothing was fixed. Tearing another piece of tape, I stared at her picture.

“You are going to be my motivation,” I said to it, as though I would actually see her again. I knew I wouldn't, but even then, after all that had happened, I couldn't let go. . .

I dropped my right shoulder, and the backpack dangling from it slid with a muffled thump onto the couch. I burned and ached all over. A twinge of pain burst in my back, eliciting a grimace and a passing glance from my wife. She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to my relief in the shower. I was brutally pushing myself at the gym, which left my body a knot of pain afterwards. Raising my hands to turn the handles was about as much as I could muster. I closed my eyes and let the hot water flow.

Her face floated in my mind, half shadowed, but still making my heart slightly pound. Forgetting the pull of my own heart, I willingly became the one she ever loved, but never wanted; her solemn protector. Not sharing a drop of blood didn't mean we weren't as thick as thieves. She called me “Bro”. I called her “Sis”. We were “family“. I wanted her more then I could stand.

Her laughter and femininity accentuated her scent. She smelled of sex, and of everything I ever wanted in a woman. Too bad I wasn't remotely close to what she wanted in a man. While I understood that my short frame carried its four hundred and fifty pounds in a screaming joke of masculinity, I somehow hoped that she would find what I could offer enough.

I held a steady 3.75 Grade Point Average all though college, and could have easily pushed myself to a four. Hell, I even entertained the idea of entering the Masters program and staying on for my Doctorate, but I couldn't bring myself to put in the effort. I suppose that was the definition of me: all potential and no motivation. That was six long years ago.

Since then, I've entered a marriage that has left more of a void in me than filling the yawning hole I hoped it would. On the other hand, she married, had two kids, and while we both browsed the through the can-stuffed “Italian” aisle at the grocery store, she told me that she was happy. We carried out the ceremony of pleasantries that seemed necessary to continue this game of guilt and fixation we couldn't help but play. We weren't family, and hadn't been since she ripped out my heart. However, she still harbored guilt, and I still felt the slight stirring of desire, so we made an offering to the memory of our memories.

I didn't hate her. I just hated her happiness. I somehow thought that I was supposed to be the one lying in her bed, tucking in our kids, and enjoying losing myself in her hazel eyes.

Turning the handles, I pushed the shower stall door open with my foot, wondering about her. Stepping out, muscles loose and still aching, I couldn't help but smile. I had dropped two hundred and twenty-five pounds in the last eighteen months through sheer willpower and hard work. I didn't have the six-pack or the cut “S” along my hip line, but I was damn strong. I was benching two hundred and twenty-five pounds, and leg pressing almost eight times as much. Being short doesn't have that many perks, but having a core and legs that would allow me to dead-lift a car certainly was a plus. I didn't stop at my body. I was delving into the deepest pools of my creativity and the darkest corners of my mind. My art was blossoming, and opening the gates of prosperity and success I long craved. 

Opening the drawer, my mind quietly marveled at the ease in which the recently bought clothes slipped on. The Alienware symbol glowed brightly in the dimness of the living room corner. I opened Chrome and checked my e-mail. I hadn't done it in a while, and I knew that I’d have a metric ton of junk e-mails stuffing the inbox. My eyes darted passed EA adds, Pizza-Hut coupons and Netflix receiving notifications, to see her e-mail address perched second to the top. I clicked on a different tab, and started checking out some other sites. I felt curious and nervous about it.

I didn't understand why I felt the way I felt. I wanted nothing more then to rekindle the best friendship I've ever had, but I felt compelled to run. Perhaps it was my desire for her that still lurked in the shadows of my mind that scared me. That desire had allowed me to love her, want her, and still be able to be the big brother protector that she wanted. To say it was a crucible to be around her on a daily basis was an understatement. However, it had helped temper my adolescent desires into the power of a man.

I finally clicked on the e-mail, reading its short contents quickly. My self control choked my excitement and desire, resulting in little more then a “Huh” as I tilted back in the computer chair. I thought she’d been retarded for marrying Joe from the start, even if they did have Nick together. Now, she had e-mailed me saying that they were at the tail end of a divorce, that she had some free time, and wanted to catch up.

You never escape being fat. Once you are, it is always with you. I’m still in the process of adjusting to my new size, and the fact that I don’t have to have a parking space-sized area to get my girth through. Sitting there in that chair, I lost control. Forgetting the pain and suffering, that the war I still continue to fight has exacted from me, I reverted... I felt crushed. The insatiable familiar hunger rose, as a giant crack of doubt and deprecation spread across my newly acquired self confidence. I sat up, and in one smooth motion, got to the refrigerator door before I caught myself.

“Wait a fucking minute,” I spat into the cool kitchen air. I’m a different man, and she‘s certainly changed. Maybe we could jump-start this again. My reverie broke as my wife, catching my eyes, asked me a question.

“Hey, are you hungry?”

“Shit, yes.”

“Good, I’ve got herb-seared chicken, carrots and broccoli, and whole grain rice.”

After I ate my fill, I looked across the plate at her. We were two warriors living together. We had each others' backs against the world, and were at each others' throats when the war hit home. I loved her. I lived her. She wasn’t enough.

“Hey, I got an e-mail from Deb.”

“Really...”

“Yeah. I guess she finally admitted to herself what pile of dog shit Joe actually is.”

“They getting divorced?”

“Pretty close, I guess. She wants to meet.”

“Really?”

“Monday, at Barnes and Nobles. What do you think?”

“Blood or no blood, she is still your family. It was bullshit what she did to you, but that’s water under the bridge. I think that you should at least go and hear her out.”

I never quiet understood how I could love the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and yet find the taste so bitterly acidic. I smiled at the sugar-coated temptations imprisoned in their plastic display cage as I ordered a small green tea. Taking the table in the corner, my consciousness quickly melted into thought.

I pondered how the books always seem to be grander in the gaudy soft light of the chocolate walnut and creamy white bastion of erotic capitalism. Don’t get me wrong, this place is great. Where else on earth can you find genuine and insightful thought on Taoism and quantum mechanics within three hundred feet of the burning controversy that has engulfed the latest popstar's new haircut?

Nervous hands absorbed the warmth from the sleeveless paper cup, fidgeting slightly, and I was hoping she would recognize me in the crimson cotton shirt I told her I was wearing.

“You may not recognize me,” I typed in response. “I’ve gone through some changes...”

Below the billowing smells of mocha and vanilla, I tingled at the sensuous and familiar smell of baby powder and crisp-scented soap. I half-closed my eyes and took a half breath, hearing the echoing primal memory of her saying my name. The animal in me roused in anticipation, acutely aware. The man flinched, trying to finish his last, strangling breath. She was here.

Time was in mocking chaos, hardening to a stop as I embraced her. Then, in a chronological game of temporal roulette, it clicked. With a sure-smooth pull, it turned any and all sense of reality into a mere coating of chunks and smears.

“Damn, you're half the man you used to be.”

“Yeah, I know. I finally got serious about taking care of myself and getting my shit together.”

“You look... great. Mmm... So, how’s Kat?”

“Good. She, uh... went to school and is working as a freelance graphic designer.”

“Damn, cool. How about you? Besides splitting yourself in half, what have you been doing?”

“I started my own art studio, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup I’m living the dream. I make my own hours, and at the moment, I have both private and commercial clients.”

“Wow, I missed a lot, didn't I?”

“Deb, it’s come and gone. All that is important is taking my life to the next level by having you back in it.”

She blushed. God help me, she blushed. Then, with a gentle smile, she tucked her hair behind her ear. I looked into those hazel eyes. The emerald twinkles, that had appeared for so many other men she desired, now danced for me. My heart pounded in my chest. My head filled with aroused angry buzzing bees. The world brightened, and my hands tapped out dire warnings on the flimsy brown paper teacup. I had felt a similar euphoric rush right after I reached the tipping point in my workouts, but this was filled with a barely controllable need. Before I knew what I was doing, I stood.

“Steve! Are you okay?”

“No... No, I have to... I’m just going to...”

“Steve?”

“Deb, I can’t do this.”

“What?”

I locked my eyes with hers.

“At any second, my want to feel your skin on mine... huh... to smell you... to taste you, is going to get the better of me.”

“Steve, come on. sit, just sit...”

I tipped on my heels. I was clawing and scrambling at the edge of an expanding rabbit hole, knowing full well that the next few hours would change my life.

“I have wanted you... I have loved you for the longest time. Now here you are, sitting in front of me, more beautiful than I have ever seen you, and I... I ...“

“Steve, I know.”

Time played its games again, turning into a silky black rush. I remember pushing the well-worn brass push plate on the warm wood door as we left. Then, the click of my seatbelt, the revving of the engine, and the crunch of gravel as I pulled into her driveway. The door opened into the dim depths of her kitchen. Ahead of me, she turned. The hungry physical fire flickered and then went out, replaced by the cool calm of control. I thought I had outrun reason, but damn if it did not catch up with me.

“Drink?”

“Sure.”

“Vodka?”

“Do you have tea?”

“Y-yeah, tea... Yup.”

The silence was painful and long as she poured the tea for me, three fingers of Absolut for her.

“Deb, what are we doing?”

“I don’t know. You know I hate myself. The way you touched me. All the times you were there when no one else was. The way you loved me... The way you still do. I let that all go because I could not get over how you looked.”

One sip, good tea... Two sip, shit... Another, blank. What do I say to that?

Finally.

“Of all people, I understand that the most. I knew. Why do you think I look like this now? Your picture hangs on my wall. I thought for the longest time that if I were thin, that it would work out that you would just fall into my arms. How crazy was I to think that? Shit, now here you are...”

“Yup, here I am.”

The electric tingle as she kissed me erased everything. What was electric soon became magnetic, as I finally felt the softness of her tongue. Clothes disappeared. Fingertips gently pushed, gently slid across the parts of her that had been secret for so long. Her skin was velvet beneath my touch. Her hair was awash with the scent of fresh green apples. The rabbit hole silently opened beneath us.

The bench was cold as I slid behind her. My left hand gently twisted in her hair, pulling her head to the side. Lips, teeth, and tongue were caressing her neck. My gentle explorations finally found her. She gasped. She gave a ragged moan, and stuttering breath delayed her whispering my name. Her body clenched, hard.

Enjoying her musk, I let her rest, only to find myself unable to wait. My hand left her hair. I guided her hands as they locked together behind my head. I continued to taste her neck. Her breast was heavy in my hand as I found her once again. I built her slow. Dipping and swirling, I gently pushed. Holding her close to the edge, I felt her trembling.

“Please.” she breathed. She clenched, then shook. She fought to catch her breath beneath her hair. For a long moment, I enjoyed her heat.

“More?” Her answer was a drunken, pleasured smiled. She acclimated to the cool couch fabric while I found my way. I finally began to realize what it was like to just enjoy a woman. I kissed her skin; pale velvet. She tasted as she smelled, intoxicating. I did not dwell, instead choosing to push her over the edge as quickly as I could. My tongue found her, as did my finger. Her breasts shook as she gasped, her head hanging over the arm of the couch. I could feel her drip down through the rough hair on my chin, and once again she clenched and shook.

She stood in a stumbling giggle.

“Sit,” she said. I rotated into position, just in time for her to slide across my legs. Her lips locked with mine in a long kiss. She maneuvered her hips expertly as I entered her. Gentle. Slow, at first. Her hands dug into the back of the couch as she rocked. Her lips once again found mine. My hands slid aimlessly over her skin. I wanted release. I wanted it to never end.

We both moved in unison, two bodies switching space. I drank in her smile and tasted her breasts. Holding myself slightly above her, we found rhythm once again. Feeling close, I rose. Pushing her legs back, I drove deeper, hearing her gasp as I froze. It was almost pain, and unknown to me, the beginning of much more.

The completely satisfied, exhausted moment lasted, until she asked me one simple question.

“Now what?”

Oh, shit.