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Jasper helps me out of my coat and calls out for me to follow him as he half-jogs down the hallway. His excitement is infectious and I find myself hurrying after him. He stops in front of the living room, encouraging me to go in. Right in the middle of the room, where our furniture used to be, is our old tent, complete with wonky and taped-up poles. It is still covered in old stickers, holes we poked through and paint, pens and glitter.
Jasper has lit up the inside with fairy lights, added two cushions and laid snacks out in the middle.
‘Back in a minute – get in!’ he says with a laugh, heading to the kitchen.
I take off my shoes and jumper, get in and sit on a cushion. Jasper has been to Partridges. The snacks are a mixture of our favourite childhood British and American snacks.
The tent seems bigger than I remember. Zachary, Jasper and I used to spend hours in it reading my favourite childhood bookChicken Licken, telling stories, stashing food and sleeping over.
‘Hey,’ Jasper announces as he joins me, carrying a jug of water and another of red liquid.
‘That’s not Cherry Kool-Aid?’ I screech.
‘Yes, it is!’ He laughs and nods.
‘This is amazing, Jasper!’
‘Remember this?’ he says, pointing to a cluster of sparkly stickers I loved as a child.
We reminisce about how easy growing up together was as we work through the snacks, before he disappears again and returns with two supermarket pizzas from the oven, plus packet ham, Marmite and honey. He opens the cold ham, rips it up and drops it all over the pizza, and hands me a slice with honey slathered all over it. I make a face.
‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. It tastes exactly like the ones Hugh made when Dahlia was away.’
He’s right. Even the Marmite smell from his slice takes me back. For dessert, we, very dangerously, blowtorch some marshmallows to make s’mores. I insist on clearing up and refuse any offers of help. I feel safe and settled with Jasper. My Jasper. The boy I adored and the man I am in love with. I fell in love with that smile, that laugh, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and that tiny scar on his temple. I love him all the more for that scar, because I know exactly how he got it, and all his others too. He knows everything about me; we have no secrets to discover, and our lives are so intricately woven they can’t be separated. I am enough and I feel complete with him.
When I return to the living room, all the lights are off and the soft glow of a torch is emanating from the tent. I approach and find Jasper sitting on his cushion.
‘Come in. Don’t look so scared!’ He smiles kindly.
As I do so, he clears his throat and temporarily blinds me with the torch as he adjusts it to point to his lap.
‘Jasper—’
‘Shhhh!’ he interrupts. ‘As Chicken Licken was going one day to the wood, “whack!” an acorn fell from a tree onto his head. “Gracious goodness me!” said Chicken Licken, “The sky must have fallen; I must go and tell the King.”’
It is too much. I crawl over to him and put my palm over the page.
‘Stop, please.’
‘I’m sorry I got distracted and out of touch, Aari. Please don’t leave me.’
I find his eyes. Jasper is and will always be part of my soul. ‘Make love to me, Jasper,’ I whisper. ‘In here.’
His surprise is unmistakable.
‘Scraps, I don’t think we should until we figure out what’s going on…’ he starts.
‘I don’t care.’
For the first time ever, I can see that Jasper doesn’t know what to do. I grab the bottom of his shirt and pull. His familiar, natural smell, our detergent and the warmth of his body envelop me as I take it off over his head. Jasper’s eyes meet mine with a bewildered curiosity, like he is observing a creature he has never seen before.
‘You’re different,’ he whispers.
‘I am.’
I unbutton my shirt and dump it on top of his, then move closer to place my lips on his. It seems to wake him from his temporary paralysis. He gently transfers me onto my back before slowly peeling my jeans off. He plants a gentle kiss on my foot, and follows with kisses in a little trail up my body, eventually finishing at my lips. I undo his jeans and help him out of them as he hovers over me. Once he discards them he lets himself lie on top of me.
He separates my legs with his knees slowly, sits back and carefully slides my underwear towards him. He does it so softly that his touch makes my heart flutter. He then helps me into a sitting position to unclasp my bra. We sit there for a few seconds, looking at each other. I wait for desire to take hold of me as he takes his time savouring the moment between us. Maybe I just need to get back in tune with his body.
