Memories

"What was your fondest memory of us?"

She asks all of sudden. We are sitting in the living room. She's taking notes, rearranging schedules, checking our budget and I'm drinking – like always. I look at her but didn't answer. Not because I couldn't but because I don't want to give her false hopes. I can't tell her my fondest memories were. Those words are never to be uttered. It would be too dangerous for her…for me.

I can't tell her that the most precious was when I first heard her laughing wholeheartedly. I don't remember where we were - probably in one of our beds - or why she was laughing but I do remember that she wasn't dressed up as a clown, her face wasn't caked, there wasn't any ridiculous wig on her head. She wasn't the escort, she was the young, beautiful woman she should be every day. And she was laughing. She threw her head back, her blonde locks were everywhere. And she just laughed as if she couldn't stop. Her laughter was sweet and joyful. It sounded like millions of little bells. She hid her face in her palms and took them away only when she stopped laughing to catch her breath. Her eyes were full with tears and she said her side was hurting. That was the moment I knew I was a lost man. That was the moment I fell in love with her.