I remember clearly that first time, just rolling over to my side and pulling the warm body next to me close to my front. Arm slinged over her torso, keeping her in place. Head nestled just under my chin, the clean smell of shampoo in my nose. Hands clasped together. Legs tangled. Chest to back, rising and falling simultaneously. And we stayed just like that. The whole night. For countless nights.
Until one day, she suddenly wasn't there.
The hot, happy nights were replaced by the cold. The lonely. No more snuggles. The soft sounds of her snores weren't there anymore. The smell was all wrong. My own shampoo, lotion, body wash and detergent, are the new prevalent scents.
It was hard to come to terms with this new routine. I'd stay up all night, just watching the lights coming from the street, the shadows and sounds of cars passing by and eventually the orange hues of the sun. Eventually exhaustion took me in. Sleep was inevitable. I became used to it and returned to my old ways. Different girls keeping my bed warm at night. But none fit like her.
The first time I saw her again I didn't know what to do. There she was. Hair shorter. I don't think I've ever seen her in orange before. She was clearly in distress, trying to catch her breath. I couldn't help myself. I approached her and greeted her. The scream that greeted my ears in returned hurt me to the core.
After that I did my everything I could to be close to her again. I wasn't totally honest. I fucked it up. She did too. We're both messed up. But for a few minutes I held her in my arms, in the same familiar position. It felt so natural. It wasn't exactly as I remembered it being. She smelt like the generic shampoo sold at commissary. The cold, hard, narrow, surface of my mattress-less bunk harsh against our sides. None of that really mattered. It was bliss.
The first propper snuggle we had in years came in the the form of a restless night in a digger bucket in the middle of a riot. Then in two mattresses pushed together in the grass. We fit like two spoons in a drawer. It was amazing. We haven't been free for almost a year. No worries about getting caught. No strategies to figure out wich guard was on duty, the utility closet that gathered the least amount of visitor in search of cleaning products, in a hallway with minimum passers by. When the chapel would be used for something or other. It was just us, under the starry night sky.
One last time in her bottom bunk. Squished and smothered under the prison issued blanket. Playful banter and teasing ensued.
Years later, here we were again. A small apartment in a rough neighbourhood. Product of my wife's hard work. I'm so proud of what she achieved. But I couldn't sleep. It felt so unreal to be here. Finally out. In her arms. Her chest against my back, feeling her breaths, hearing her snores and soft sighs. Her arm holding me tightly, close to her body. One leg over my tigh. The sheets are so soft. They smell like her. The room to dark, too quiet. It was weird. Terrifying. Who knows what the future holds. One thing is certain though. We'll stay just like this, in each others arms, for the rest of our nights together. Sometimes I'll be the big spoon, sometimes it'll be her, no matter what happens, what life throws at us, we'll find our way to each other, after all, we're inevitable.