Page 63 of AMS.TER.strum

Luuk

The sound of my name on Corrie’s lips as she lets go is better than any song I’ve ever heard, sung or written. One I want to hear over and over again. As in forever. How can time stretch and shrink at the same time? How can there be not enough breaths to measure us, and then what seems like one, taken in unison, filling the space we occupy, making us lightheaded on too much oxygen?

We devour each other as if we’re having our last meal, and I wonder what it would be like without the condom. If this is fire, buried inside her with no barriers will be another universe. I absolutely understand Corrie wanting to avoid an unwanted pregnancy, and that’s a conversation we need to have sooner than later, but definitely not now.

I hitch a breath when her fingertip lightly presses on the glistening bead on the head of my cock, then she brings her index to her lips, sucking it off. She smears the rest on my crown, while I’m struggling to stay put, then rolls on the condom, finally straddling me.

I love watching her being in charge while losing control.

We talk between feasting on each other, while feasting on each other. A lifetime won’t be enough to tell her or show her, and with my departure looming above us, we make sure to gather as many moments as possible.

When she finally falls asleep, spooned against me, I prop on my elbow and look at her calm face, imagining this being one in an endless series of nights in the future after having loved her. And there’s only one thing that floods my thoughts—Make it happen!

So when the morning comes a few hours later, I’ve already got a plan in my head, which needs a reality check with Mark. Aaron would take offence in not being the first one I run to, but since he won’t be exactly welcoming anything deviating from his own plans, he’ll be kept out of the loop. I’m conditioned enough for guilt to emerge, questioning my loyalty and gratefulness, but it’s not that I’ve been consulted about things that are announced to me, to which I’m expected to just comply, so I shrug off the Am I doing the right thing? thought and leave Corrie, promising myself that I will keep the appointment as short as possible.

When I finally walk back to her place, I buy a ginormous bouquet made of every flower that will give the feeling of a field and two small pots for the children. Corrie told me about their fascination with watching things grow, and now they will have their personal gardening project, besides the mini garden of their kitchen sink.

I give Corrie a clandestine kiss, as Otto and Ada search for the best spot for their plants. She sends me a shy smile, a beautiful pink taking over her face. The realization hits me, as if I’ve just opened my eyes to the miracle that has been there all along—Corrie blushing for me!

Although we agreed to wait before anything is announced to the kids, we can’t deny what’s happening. Or what we want it to become. I guess waiting a few more months is nothing, even if it feels like an eternity.

So I sit back per Corrie’s request and watch the kids go about their post-school routine, impressed at how those tiny bundles that became smiling toothless faces, that became unstoppable toddlers, are now carrying proper conversations with each other and feel more independent than they actually are. It saddens me that I’ve lost so many moments in-between, though.

‘Are you okay?’

Corrie’s touch on my hair and her cotton-candy voice in my ear bring shivers down my spine.

I turn to meet her concerned gaze. ‘Yes, I was thinking…if notes are missing from a song, what does it sound like if you can’t add them anymore?’

Her brows knit for a moment, then she looks at the kids. ‘When we find a place for a plant, we leave the pot there to let it grow, guys, we don’t move it round the house.’

‘But we want to show our plants their home,’ Ada says, and Otto nods.

‘One time, then they go to their place and stay there.’

Their expressions when they turn towards her are as if she has stopped all the fun the plants would be having in the future, followed by a resigned ‘Fine…’

Their voices move to the corridor, and Corrie turns to me. ‘A song missing a few notes is a different song,’ she says, leaning in, her lips barely touching mine, before pulling back to take me in.

‘They are more than a few. I haven’t been here for…’

Her kiss is full-on, mouths welded, hers inhaling, as if to suck my negative thoughts away. ‘You are here now. And to answer your question, you can always write a new song. Seven notes can bring infinite combinations, and the staff stretches to infinity.’

As Corrie sits next to me on the couch, her gaze is a promise that I am part of her world. And a voyage on a staff we’ll fill with our own music. To infinity.

Chapter Thirty-One

2022

Corrie

‘Are you sure it’s fine if they stay with you for a couple of hours?’ I ask Lola, who is quickly becoming a close friend.

She and I met at the kids’ kindergarten once life started going back to normal. We bonded over our worry to leave our babies behind, both of us overprotective single moms, Lola’s Spanish background ‘bringing more drama to the whole situation’, in her own words. She’s got a little boy, Kalvin, who is the twins’ age, and we all get along great. Because one of the interesting challenges I discovered about parenthood is setting up playdates or building a community of like-minded people.

‘It’s like any sort of dating,’ Dory said, during our last meeting at my place, where Lola was also invited and we let the kids run and get dirty while we sipped an amazing cocktail my caterer friend created to celebrate life getting back to normal.

‘I wonder which kind of dating is more frustrating…’ I trail off.