Final Touch

by T. M., Machias, ME

I squeezed the body that gave me life for one last time. My fluttering eyelids could no longer restrain the tears and my eyes flooded with emotion. Then I touched his lips and he was gone.

Around Valentine's Day I was seeking a male companion and decided to write a Valentine to this exchange student whom I did not know. I only knew he was from Mexico and that he went to a different high school than I. I was overjoyed to receive a reply in the mail, and I initiated the relationship by calling him up. We met at a dance shortly after and began going out.

I was so overwhelmed with feelings of absolute happiness that the months seemed like hours. We talked about life, shared dreams, and took wonderful walks along the beach. I taught him about Maine and he shared his culture with me. Together, we built a bond of trust and he became my best friend and boyfriend. I lost myself in his moist, tender kisses and melted under his touch. No one had ever touched me like he did before - my body or my heart. It seemed like I had fallen into a form of love - my first.

June came and we both realized that soon he would be returning home. Half of me denied this while the other half slowly began to accept reality. The time would come and he would be gone, taking a big chunk of my life with him.

On the last day he was here, my parents and I went to the airport with him and his host parents. I willed myself not to cry. There'll be others, I told myself, although I believed otherwise. When his flight was called, he hugged his host family, my mom, and finally me. I clutched him, and walked away. Already aching for his touch, I ran up to him again and squeezed him tight. I kissed him one last time, etching the feeling and his appearance into my brain. No one would ever kiss me like he did, and I would probably never see him again. I fixed my eyes on his plane until it vanished from view. Good-bye life, I whispered as the feeling of rose petals lingered on my lips; good-bye life and love.