Remind Me Again Why I Love You
written by: Derrick R. Lafayette
A jazz arrangement of the song Hound Dog permeates the ether in a three-star restaurant. As I enter, the music seeps through a space between the heavy glass door. Combing through a sea of faces, I spot my paramour illuminated by a single candle. With a balled fist to support her cocked head, she blissfully stares out the window at the approaching downpour, soaking in the beauty of the concrete landscape. Entranced, I broke concentration briefly to sit my umbrella into a section by the desk before leaning towards the host. Who, in her own right, is a sculpted goddess from head to hips to toe in a tight black dress that commands the collective male gaze, except for mine. Her attractiveness became background noise, and I barely heard a word she said, for my heart was already owned, and I took pride in fidelity.
“If you’re alone, you can sit at the bar. Unless you prefer eating at a table. I don’t mind it, personally. I enjoy my own company. But I could understand the optics. How lonely it makes you look.” The host shuffles a few menus and hands them out to the passing waiters like a croupier. The fluidity showcases tenor in her position, and she keeps darting her eyes in every direction, scanning for errors.
“She’s waiting for me,” I reply.
“Off you go.”
As I venture down the path, squeezing by other tables of other dates, I feel a kinetic force when I arrive at the empty chair. Beneath a curly black afro is my soulmate, adorned in an emerald suit. Heat travels through my body when her presence melds with mine. Through nonverbal communication, she says, ‘I miss you.’ Her bright eyes and perfect posture strike me as if the conquest of her affection was beginning. My memory of penetrating her heart failed to register in my brain like I was seeing her for the first time. An amber glow on her brown skin from the small flame inches from her plate melts away any flaws. Unreal, she is, taking not only my breath but time itself as the universe froze, granting me the ability to absorb the blessing of her company.
I partake in a sip of water before I part my lips. What could I say to summarize the meaning of love fast enough not to be interrupted by the waiter coming my way? A handsome waiter reminded me of what my physique used to be before happiness stole it away. A worthy exchange. There’s nothing lonelier than washboard abs in an empty room, staring into the mirror, wondering why there’s no one else in your reflection rubbing your shoulders.
“Did you order already?” I ashamedly question, stretching across the table to touch her fingertips. A request she obliges.
“No. Do you see the color of the rain?”
Gazing out the window as the rainstorm intensifies, a melody of streaks in lavender, teal, and fuchsia trickles down the glass. The background is covered in an all-encompassing heather gray as visibility fades and bends to the will of climate. What the parking lot used to be is now a cloud of distortion in black and white. Unfortunate souls scurry for shelter, having forgotten their protection from the heavy rain above. I find it fascinating.
“Why do they fear what’s inside them?” I ask.
She turns to me, and I see a brightness like diamonds sparkling in a circle. Her sclera is the mine, and her pupil is the gem. Within a blink, the brightness yields to a pool of honey, and she smiles at my reaction.
“Inconvenience,” she says. “They don’t view time like we do. They’re afraid of it, and with that comes a looming fear of other things.”
“I rather like this suit that we’re in.”
“Me too. The sensations are very different. Even the pain can be addictive. Though, we mustn’t forget why we’re here.”
Slyly easing my left foot from inside my hard bottom shoe, I attempt to cut my paramour’s speech before she dampens my mood with responsibilities. Without changing posture to cause attention, I place the tip of my toes, snug in nylon, on the side of her thigh and continue upward. She’s wearing a skirt of moderate length. The sudden touch causes her to jump with a grin, and she spreads her legs so I can venture further.
“This is exactly why the terrain is overpopulated,” she says, struggling to keep a straight face.
“Luckily, our reproductive organs are merely for experimental purposes.”
I can’t tell if her expression’s delight or restraint, but my concealed and wicked game brings me joy. We spent a millennium together with as much intimacy as a childhood boy and his dog. But these last two years, we’ve been encapsulated in lust. The environment is invigorating. It will be a shame to see it all go. So, I squeeze as much amusement as I can before our occupation shatters the fantasy. Even now, I imagine ducking below the table to replace my foot with my face and hear her expression change instead of seeing it. What would I savor more, the sounds or the sights? It’s a tough choice, though. Whereas the human brain has three main parts, we have five. Naturally, logic will intrude on my daydream. I wait for the eventual rejection, knowing that this behavior is alien to both of us.
“Behave.” She shakily pours water into her glass and looks behind me to see if anyone noticed.
“You’re enjoying this much as I am. Why tease me with body language and confuse me with words?”
“Because you’re my mate. You must have access to me, even in unfavorable times. It is a transaction.”
“There’s a damper when the enthusiasm isn’t returned.”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
The youthfully handsome waiter finally walks to our table. His eyes practically burn a crater into my paramour’s chest. A lick of his lips sparks no jealousy. I admire his taste. Nuzzled in his ear, below a forest of bleached blonde hair, he removes a pencil, unearths a notepad, and begins to speak. I place my foot back on the floor, away from my paramour’s warmth.
“Hello, welcome to the Labyrinth. Shall I tell you about our specials for the day?”
“I’ll take anything with seafood. I don’t need anything else,” my paramour blurts out, revealing her cold nature. Lack of food causes disturbing consequences to her suit and a layer of sharpness during communication.
My stomach rumbles, too, but her frame keeps me satiated. To remain normal in the eyes of others, I overdue my order to the point of melodrama.
“I’ll take the biggest hamburger and a liter of soda,” I say with a raised hand like a schoolboy.
“Give me the whole cow. Divide the ground beef, shape the patty, you know the rest.”
“I’m not the cook, and as for your beverage, we don’t have cups bigger than this.” The waiter points to the mugs on our table. “It’s a pint.”
“That will do.”
“What will do?”
“The size of this cylindrical plastic container.”
“You didn’t specify what kind of soda you wanted.”
“Dealer’s choice.”
“Okay,” he says with trepidation. “And I assume you only want water?” He looks in my paramour’s direction. She nods. “Be right back with your order.” The waiter walks away toward the kitchen.
“Do you think he suspects anything?” My paramour picks up a napkin and examines it, wondering how fast it would engulf in flames, though the candle near her is encased in spherical glass. “The natives speak in such strange dialects. They butcher their own grammatical laws. Especially those around us, with such specific demands. One woman took nearly five minutes giving her order.”
“I find that some, who are usually irritated for reasons unknown, take themselves very seriously in all aspects of their life. Her food order could very well be treated as brain surgery. If any item is missing, she will go into a rage. When we departed yesterday, I watched a man berate a cashier because the machinery had malfunctioned. Misplaced anger. It is common here.”
“I understand that. With such short lifespans, it must be difficult to learn oneself. We have thousands of years to reflect.”
“And yet, the limiting of life is also the spark. You’ve felt it. When we first arrived in our suits, and the senses were activated, I saw you differently.”
“A mission and a honeymoon are two different things.”
“I completed my observations. Part of it was observing you. There’s a term that they use for what I feel. I heard it in a cinema.”
“Don’t be influenced. I allowed you to explore me. And I delighted in some ways exploring you. But don’t lose sight.”
“They call it love.”
“That word gets tossed around frequently. The same woman, with the extraneous demands, also said that she loved her coffee. Is she in bed with it? Married to it?”
“She meant it in a pedestrian way. I’m speaking earnestly. For once, embrace the moment. Leave the paranoia behind.”
Her beauty takes a left turn from gorgeous to hellcat. We’re injured because of my words, but I allow my wound to bleed.
“I never felt this way about you back home,” I continue, twisting the knife. “We can learn from them. At least, what they call romance. I’ve read books about it. What we’re doing right now is called courting.”
“What about at night when you sneak into my chambers?”
“Coitus.”
Her face softens. “We’ve done this coitus back home, albeit with less fluids leaking from so many orifices. Our sensation is dull in comparison, but nonetheless, the deeds were done.”
“But it’s mandated. It’s not free. It’s ordained by law. The freedom here to see someone and mate is astounding.”
“The Observers don’t know. I don’t want them to know.” She leans forward on the table.
“I’ll admit that I like it. Is that what you want to hear? The physicality is intoxicating. Sometimes, when the suit rests and the nerve communications are cut off, I see images in my head that I cannot control. A warped memory plays over and over, with new scenarios that defy reality. My suit dripped off my body in one of them, and the real me was revealed. You were there, but you didn’t change.”
“Those are called dreams. I have them, too. Scary ones, as well. I like those the most.”
She places her hands over mine and rubs my knuckles with her thumb. “This is temporary. No matter how we feel.”
“I want to take the love back home with us. Make it part of our relationship. In secret. Something we do when the sentries are powered off.”
“It’s best to leave that version of yourself here.”
“There won’t be a here much longer.”
“Keep it in one of the chambers of your heart. Metaphorically,” she says. “And maybe, on special occasions, we can remind ourselves of what we learned here.”
“Like a Valentine’s Day!” I say a bit too loud, drawing eyes from the nearby patrons.
“The massacre?”
“No,” a laugh escapes my mouth. “It’s a holiday based on Saint Valentine, who was martyred on February 14th.”
“So, he was killed?” My paramour takes a sip of water, unsure of where I’m steering the conversation.
“Yes, but February 14th is a day filled with romantic gestures. A holiday.”
“That’s strange.”
“The people here have their reasons, but regardless, that feeling is what I want us to embrace. Maybe just once a year. We indulge in each other without mandates. Simply for our own pleasure.”
“Once a year is quite frequent. But I agree.” My paramour checks her watch and shoots me a half smile. “It’s time.”
“Do you think they’ll let us keep the suits?”
“I doubt it.”
As the waiter approaches me from behind, I see vehicles from my home planet descending toward the ground. The saucer is built with rainbow lights that shine into the restaurant, nearly blinding the humans. The waiter drops a plate of lobster thermidor, a double-stacked hamburger, and a pitcher of black soda that I will never get to taste. I shoot a smile back at my paramour as the windows shatter from a sonic boom. The screaming escalates when more intergalactic vehicles appear, and the wind and rain drench the restaurant’s decor.
Within the pandemonium, I feel evolved, knowing that our time on Earth opened my eyes to the possibility of what a mate can be—the infinite well of emotion shared between two people—the push and pull that works the nerves but enflames the lower regions. I can tell my paramour is thinking the same thing. She looks at me with sultry eyes, as if the danger of what’s occurring has stirred up a latent passion that bursts at this very moment.
She stands and leads me by the hand. While the humans shout nonsensical statements like ‘God, help me’ or ‘We’re going to die,’ she snakes through the perturbed throng, searching for a place of solitude. By chance, she sees a closed door at the end of the hallway. She turns the knob, and the door opens. We’re in a utility closet, chest to chest. I try to avoid a bucket and mop as the yelling outside increases in volume. The invasion will only last twenty minutes on a global scale. Our race is efficient when it conquers. Most of the work is done by people like us. The infiltrators, who study the architecture, so there are no surprises when the colonizers arrive. This is our fifteenth mission, and the most special, because the moment the door is locked, she kisses me softly on the lips.
“I like this feeling the most,” she says. “There’s something beautiful about panicking. Not that we really are. But the sensation remains because the nervous system in this suit is constantly sending ‘fight or flight’ messages. And I realized, if death were to come at this very moment, the only thing I would wish to do is this.”
She kisses me again and simultaneously unbuttons my shirt.
I return the favor. With a soundtrack of chaos in the background, we strip each other naked, feeling each other’s suits without clothes, without boundaries.
“This is where we use the words,” I say, running my hand over her curvature, intoxicated by lust.
“What words?” she asks in between kisses and moans.
“I love you.”
“What do I say in return?”
“I love you too.”
The End
- Remind Me Again Why I Love You - March 6, 2025
