a return

 The cold air pinched at her fingers, but she fumbled for her cigarette box anyways. A millisecond of warmth crackled from the lighter, and Rene sat forward, hands on her knees, and took a long, intentional drag. The rewarding puff of smoke was amplified by her breath in the crisp night air, and she watched it flood the night sky and mute the stars’ pinpricks of light before dissipating into oblivion. She placed the box on the stoop, and leaned back against the stairs.

February was sad and slow in Harlem. Besides the promise of Valentine's day, nothing else was held dear. Paper and plastic heart decorations littered the doorsteps of the townhomes, and Rene could only face forward to avoid them. It was 2am, so the foot traffic on the sidewalk was sparse. The only witnesses to her existence at a given moment was God and the occasional stray. Her mind was oddly silent, to which she scowled about. Months of nights of solitude had passed by without consequence and her mind had remained empty. The cigarette was a feigned attempt at inspiration, but really she just craved something uncomfortably comforting. A chill cut through her pajama pants, and at that moment she gave up. Casting her barely smoked cigarette to the ground, she stamped it out under a house slipper and retreated back into the townhouse, shivering.

“Goddamn box,” she muttered, realizing only after changing from her loungewear into a satin slip. Lazy and reckless, Rene hurried downstairs and opened the door, inviting both the winter’s chill and a set of eyes to travel up her skirt.

“I take it you forgot this?” Alexander stood, holding the box in an outstretched palm. It looked comically small.

And suddenly her mind was ablaze. Months of nothingness converted to everything in a single moment, condensed into a man on her doorstep.

Rene slammed the door. Shock held her firm, but rage overpowered it and forced her upstairs to her bedroom where she situated herself on the bed. Something in her purposefully neglected to lock the door. Footsteps ensued, and soon he was entering her bedroom, still dressed in his peacoat and still clutching the cigarette box. He brought a scent of pinewood with him.

“What. The. Fuck. Are you doing here?” she growled, unsure of which emotions were winning her over.

Alexander shifted his weight uneasily. “In the area for the first time in a while. Felt wrong not to say something.”

“At two in the morning?”

“I’ve shown up later than this.”

“That was different.”

He ignored her, taking his coat off and placing it on the bedpost. Without invitation, Alexander settled next to her on the bed and procured a cigarette from the box. Rene watched him hold it loosely between his lips and lean back to open the window behind the two of them, taking account of the way his creme sweater stretched across his biceps.

“I’m not giving you my light-”

He cut her off with a hand in his pocket, removing it to reveal a silver lighter. “Never asked you to.”

After a light and a puff out the window, he held it out to her.

Her blood boiled beneath her skin and roared between her thighs.

“How fucking dare you.”

He responded with an unamused look.

“How fucking dare you,” she repeated. Without a thought, she ripped the cigarette from his fingers and flicked it out the open window. Only then was she able to elicit a reaction of slight surprise from him.

“You leave me for five goddamn months with not a ‘fuck you’, ‘what do you need’, nothing! And now you want to show up at my doorstep and smoke my fucking cigarettes–” her face grew hot, so she stood, as if the height change would circulate better air. “You’re incredulous!”

“You left your door unlocked.” Alexander stood as well. He towered over her, but her rage made him seem eye level. “And you would be more upset if I walked right on by. I wanted to spare myself the trouble.”

“Consider yourself spared,” she huffed. “Now get. Out.”

He simpered, a rueful gleam cutting across his dark brown irises. “You want me to leave?” He leaned in close to her ear. His words weren’t slurred but the slight smell of brandy on his breath was certain. “Are you sure?”

Rene’s fingers trembled as she curled them into fists at her sides. “Yes,” she affirmed sternly, looking ahead to avoid his face that was close to brushing against hers.

Pinching her chin in his hand, he moved her head so they would be eye to eye.

“Vi?”

“Hm?”

“You know how much I hate–”

“Liars,” she finished for him.

Almost instantaneously, a flood of brandy filled her mouth as his lips crashed onto hers. He tugged at her bottom lip, almost frantic, definitely hungry. And who was she to deny his cravings? She certainly had some of her own. Rene didn't care if this decision of his was alcohol induced. She had him. That was more than she could say five, three, one month ago.

His hands subverted the nightgown, finding their way back into her curves and weighing her breasts. They dug insatiably at the five months of weight she had garnered, and his breaths became more profound as he tried to retain her scent in his nose.

A few tossed clothing garments later, Alexander withdrew his head from Rene’s thighs, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. No words had been exchanged since they initially kissed, so he gave her a glance before her got up to rummage through his coat pocket for something.

Rene basked in her state of bliss, unaware, until the rip of the plastic wrapper jolted her out.

“A condom?”

Alexander froze, wrapper still hanging from his teeth. He tried to smile convincingly while Rene sat up on the bed.

“Why do you need a condom?”

“I mean I don't,” he set the trigger down tenderly on the sheets. “Just, y’know, for safety.”

Realization followed by ire flashed across her face, and a storm began to brew between her eyebrows.

“You’ve been fucking other women…?” she said, almost too quiet to be a question.

“I mean…” he searched for a place to set down his words.

She scoffed. “You’ve been fucking other women.” A statement.

“Vi, it’s been five months–”

“Dont “Vi” me! I didn’t leave for five months! I stayed here!” She felt the heat of tears but no liquid left her eyes. She repeated, “I stayed here! I stayed here while you fucked other women!”

“No one told you to stay! And for the record, you’re not exactly a saint either.”

“I never said I was.”

“Because you aren’t. You have no moral standing to ridicule me on what I do in my free time with my body. You fucked a man everyday before you met me.”

She smiled, almost sadistically. “Without condoms.”

His lips formed into a snarl. “You should be thanking me–I’m saving you from diseases too.”

Rene quirked an eyebrow. “So you fucked them all with the intention of coming back? What was the point?”

“I don't know, Rene! I wanted something else. Not you. But you.”

“And you were trying to find that tonight…”