The Persistence of Memory

Chapter Twelve

What the fuck am I doing?

What the fuck did I just do? She kissed me. She kissed me and it wasn't a mistake. She wanted it. Maybe even wanted me. I'm a fucking idiot.

As I take the steps down from the studio in two leaps and bound across the loft the words I'd said to her as she left echo through my head. Close the door on the way out make the most noise. What a total prick.

By the door, I notice that the jacket I offered her is gone. I'm glad - the thought of her cold and wet again unsettles me. I take the stairs down the building faster than I was aware was even possible - though a fireman's pole would be ideal about now. She'd never get a taxi this quickly in the rain. Not in this place.

In my bare feet, I run through the entrance hall towards the front door and out onto the street. As my bare feet hit the ground I feel nothing. The cold hard rain on the souls of my feet doesn't even penetrate the surface. I can't see her. I scour the wet bodies looking for my green hooded waterproof but see nothing to my left or right. She must have walked for a bit. But in which direction?

I descend the steps and look a little further down the street - but she'd go uptown surely - in the direction of her place, which I knew was near 5th Avenue. This was madness. I couldn't walk anywhere without shoes. I mean I would, but I wouldn't get that far.

A few passers-by begin to stare at me like I'm insane which I completely ignore before I curse under my breath and turn to mount the stairs back up. As I reach the door of the building it dawns on me what I've done. All of it. I almost kick the door in frustration, which without shoes would be just what I fucking deserve. At the last second, I manage to stop myself breaking my foot. Yeah, I was a fucking idiot alright. Thankfully, not so much of an idiot to have left my phone upstairs too. Reaching into my back pocket I retrieve my iPhone and dial Pat's number. He lifts on the second ring.

"Oh, so you are still alive? Nice of you to check in."

"I don't need to check in," I tell him. "Where are you?"

"Actually on my way over to see you, why? Did you miss me?"

"Yeah, like a kick in the balls. Please tell me you have the spare key to the loft on you?"

"Yeah because I was sure I was going to need to use it to find your cold dead body,"

"You wish. How far away are you?"

"Ten minutes."

"See you in ten then." I hang up.

I sit on the inside of the doorway in an attempt to shield myself from the downpour that I can't feel anyway. All I can feel is loss and rage, underpinned by the smell of her skin and the taste of her mouth, which is still swimming around my tongue. She wasn't coming back here. She looked serious about that. But then, she'd looked serious when she said she hadn't wanted anything as much as my tongue in her mouth too. And what had I done about that particular revelation? Fuck all. Nothing. I'd acted like a prick. Then I'd told her to close the door on the way out.

The rage washes over me again. Anger only at myself. At my inertia. Twice now, I'd done nothing and let her walk out of my life. Once was unfortunate - an unavoidable accident. Twice was just blind fucking stupidity.

I bring up her number in my phone and stare at it for a long time. If I called and she didn't answer, what then? If I called and she did answer, what then? Tell her everything? That I did know her. That I'd known her for 13 years. That she'd been in my mind and my memories and my fucking soul since I'd laid eyes on her. That had to mean that you knew someone. Okay, I didn't know her birthday, or her favourite food, or which spice girl she'd liked the most, but I knew every inch of her form. I knew where every freckle was on her face, every eyelash placement, the shape of her fucking earlobe. I