Snowflakes fell to the ground as I sat staring out the window from my seat in the kitchen. The season was starting already, and it is during these long December afternoons that I am reminded of Joseph. Such a long time ago, but it is almost as if I can feel his lips touching mine, like it were yesterday.
I had been stuck at college that Christmas, unable to make it home due to in-climate weather. I decided to make the most of my time there though, and trekked to the library to work on research for a literary paper that was due a week after break. I had barely gotten to the reference section when I heard a voice behind me, low and soft.
“Couldn’t make it home either, huh?”
I turned quickly, looking down at a dark, curly haired boy sitting cross-legged on the floor going through several archaic books, grinning up at me. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place where. I returned the smile, shaking my head.
“Nope. All flights cancelled. Same for you too?”
He nodded, pushing himself up from the floor and held out his hand. “I’m Joseph.”
“Lori,” I replied as he took my hand shaking it gently, his eyes gazing into mine. And, what beautiful eyes they were. Dark green rimmed in soft brown, with the slightest glint of all the mischief he could be capable of getting into.
“Nice to meet you.” He smiled again, and pointed towards the books. “Researching a term paper?”
I nodded. “English Lit. You?” I looked down at all the dusty reference books stacked into two neat piles.
He shrugged, then laughed. “Well, I was thinking about it. But, I’m not thinking so much about that anymore. What about you?”
I could feel the warmth creeping into my cheeks, because I wasn’t really thinking too much about Professor Michaelson’s paper anymore either, just those eyes. Looking down trying to hide it, I nodded slowly.
Taking my hand, he tugged my arm, moving back through the library shelves till he ducked behind one. Looking around carefully to make sure no one was watching, he pushed a button on the wall. A panel slid upward, opening into an almost empty room save a few books and a few pillows tossed on the floor.
“Do you bring all your girls here,” I teased, as he pulled me through the panel and pushed a button on the other side.
It was his turn to blush now, shaking his head as he looked around the room. “No, this is just my thinking place,” he replied after a few minutes of silence. “I found it when I was working in the library last semester, while I was putting away some books back here. Lost my footing on the ladder, and fell against the wall and the next thing I knew, I was in this room. Do you like it?”
He turned back to me as if looking for my approval and I nodded. “It’s nice Joseph.”
The smile returned, and he pulled me close to him, kissing me softly as he moved us slowly towards the pile of pillows in the corner. Easing us both down, he pushed me back against them, brushing my hair out of my face, just smiling.
“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”
I had never consider myself all that striking, but watching Joseph looking down at me and smiling, made me feel like the princess I had never been. Shaking my head, he laughed softly.
“No one? Not even your father?”
I blushed again, and nodded my head, unable to speak, just drinking in the warmth of those eyes
“Well, you are.”
The back of his hand brushed my cheek softly as I continued looking up at him, and just as I was about to speak his mouth covered mine, turning me liquid almost instantly as his tongue circled mine.
I had never met anyone that had overwhelmed me like Joseph. It was almost as if he were reading my thoughts as his hands moved to the very spot that I was thinking of as soon as I was thinking it, first covering my face with soft kisses, then nibbling on the tenderest spot of my neck.
Putting my arms around him, I closed my eyes, imagining his hand slipping under my shirt and cupping my breast and it was there. Then, I imagined his hand sliding the zipper down on my shirt bathing me with more of his warm kisses and it was happening.
By then I was shivering, not just from what I was feeling but his uncanny way of knowing exactly what I wanted and when I wanted it. Between small catches of breath I asked him, “Are you a mind reader, Joseph?”
He looked up at me with a lopsided grin. “Yes.”
He didn’t say anymore than that, just continued covering me with kisses, circling my navel with his tongue as his hand unfastened my jeans and began tugging them over my hips.
I just let my mind wander through all the things I dreamed about having a lover do to me, and Joseph obliged, his hands moving unhurriedly over my body, taking my breath, and I knew before long, he would take my heart.
Lost in the sensations, my eyes didn’t open again till I felt the warmth of his bare chest on mine. His body covering me, he entered me for the first time, his hips moving deliberate and slow, his eyes never leaving mine as mew after mew caught in my throat—the warm liquid-y feeling he had aroused in me turning to fire.
And, when he sensed I could take no more, his mouth covered mine again. Moving his hand to my hip, he pulled me closer, as I buried my face against his shoulder, gasping for air as the wave of passion he had aroused in me poured through me.
Laying me back against the pillows, I watched his face, as his thrusts grew stronger and deeper. Sensing his own, I tightened myself around him, arching my back, as he groaned his release finally coming.
Lying in his arms afterward, we spoke not one word, but as the light faded I knew we both had to leave or get locked into the library. As I dressed, he continued to lay there, watching me, all the while smiling. Bending over, I kissed him one last time and headed for the panel, listening closely to the wall to make sure no one was coming. Pushing the button, it slid upward, and I made my way through the musty books, to the exit, knowing tomorrow would find me back here, hoping beyond hope that he’d be sitting cross legged in the reference section once more.
The next morning, I scurried off to the library, thinking he might be early, and we’d take time to actually talk. When I got there, the librarian was sitting behind her desk, small reading glasses perched on her nose, scanning a stack of books in front of her.
Bolding walking up to her, I smiled politely. “Excuse me, ma’am. But, did you have a young man named Joseph working for you last semester?”
The look that crossed her face was one I didn’t expect, almost a mixture of a long ago happy memory and surprise. “Can you describe him to me,” she asked quietly, but there was an edge to her voice that said she held a secret that she wasn’t telling.
I describe Joseph to her, to the minutest detail so that she couldn’t be mistaken, and the look of surprise returned. Confused, I asked her if she was all right.
Smiling softly, she pointed to a small plaque on the wall, a black and white photo ensconced in glass next to it. “Is that him,” she asked.
I moved closer to it, nearly fainting on the spot. It read:
In Loving Memory of
Joseph Warner
September 4, 1945-December 21, 1965
There was my Joseph–the one with the enigmatic smile, and a “thinking” room. I turned to the librarian, unable to speak, but she only smiled that secret smile again and nodded knowingly.
“He’s a wonderful mind reader, isn’t he?”
