When She’s More Than the Sum of Her Parts – Part One

I don’t exactly remember when I first laid eyes on her…but I remember the various occasions when we would run into each other. Time has a weird habit of changing the order of events…and when I initially met this woman, I was about 18 years old. To say that she was beautiful would be a gross understatement. Her ebony skin beckoned for you to caress it. Most of the time, she would pull her shoulder length hair into a quick pony-tail and still managed to look as if she were ready to pose for the cover of any top fashion magazine.

I would watch her dance, her body moving rhythmically to the hypnotic beat of the music, the barest hint of smile on her lips as if she secretly knew how incredibly gorgeous she really was.

We never talked too often. She was a woman of few words. But every time my eyes fell on hers, I always wondered what was going on in her head. A few times, I had the nerve to ask her, and she would always give me a response…and yet, I cannot tell you what those responses were if my very life depended on it. She had sharp features, a model’s high cheekbones and full, voluptuous lips…the kind that if you kissed just once, you might find yourself never wanting to kiss anyone else again. She had the perfect female body…and never once did she ever dress too provocatively when she was out.

She has evolved over the years from being a twenty-something party-girl to a statuesque woman, and in that timeframe, we’ve managed to get to know one another a little bit better. She attends services at my church from time to time. As a matter of fact, that was how we managed to reunite. I think that she may have been as surprised at how much I have changed from being an eighteen year kid to a forty one year old man…almost as much as how much she hadn’t changed physically, from being the beautiful party-girl to the woman that she has become. I had to admit, a certain part of me had retained feelings for her, but over the years, I believe that those feelings were one of admiration as opposed to lust or wanting. She didn’t strike me like any woman that I’ve ever met. She was never loud or boisterous. She always appeared as if she was in thought…and you never knew what those thoughts were, unless she wanted you to know.

On this day, we decided to meet for coffee. This had been something that I had been planning for a few months now. We would often talk about having coffee together after church service. We picked a cool, bright sunny day after church service to go to X and O. She took my arm gently as we walked down the street chatting idly about the weeks’ events. Once we reached the café, I took her coat and placed it on top of mine next to where I would be sitting. I pulled out her chair as she sat down, giving me the faintest of smiles. When I arrived back at the table with our drinks, I sat before her taking a minute to look at her in her form, fitting turtle-neck sweater. Even now, time had been good to her. She had changed her hair color from black to blonde and it suited her. Her full breast showed no visible signs of sagging. She still had that quiet, almost demure way about her.

I reached into the front pocket of my jacket and removed a tiny tape recorder.

I placed it on the table and looked up at her again. She gave me another one of those wistful smiles.

“Are you ready?” I asked while taking a sip of coffee.

She nodded.

I switched on the tape recorder.

“Can you tell me what life was like for you as a boy?”