Matches & Koby

They understood each other.  Could finish one 
another's sentences like each was an extension 
of the other's thought process. It had been 
that way since they were kids fighting in the 
coat room at school.  She felt a slight grin
pulling at the corners of her mouth as the 
memory of their first meeting came flooding 
back to mind.

She was an adorable little girl, which was 
pretty cool unless you were the new kid in 
school.  Then, it could be an absolute 
nightmare.  Poor black girls just didn't take 
too well to newcomers, particularly when they 
were a constant reminder of the barbie dolls 
they longed to emulate.  She was striking 
beauty, even in childhood.  Big wide chocolate 
brown eyes that had a fiery orange center. Her 
eyes created quite a contrast to the creamy 
taupe complexion and curly, thick auburn 
cascades of long flowing locks that framed her 
face.  "Picture Perfect"...that's what her 
father said.  He would spend hours and hours 
taking photographs of her and then mailing off 
proofs to casting agents.  Every chance her 
mother got, she reminded her of how many 
sacrifices they had made to ensure she always 
looked like a princess, as though she had been 
born with her hand out seeking favors... 
Princess Darling...a name that would prove 
troublesome for all of her adolescence and 
most of her life. 

She was an actress, even though she'd never 
been selected in an audition. Nonetheless, 
she had learned to master the art of appearing 
confident, to mask the jitters. "Never let em 
see ya sweat" as her father so often 
precautioned her at auditions.  That's why 
she was able to get up the nerve to open the 
door to the 5th grade class and walk past the 
gasps and staring eyes to the teacher's desk. 
The teacher, Mrs. Something-or-other, seemed 
shocked at first ( a reaction she was used to) 
when she looked up and gazed into those eyes 
that seemed to blaze right thru her. 

She handed a note to the teacher who promptly 
rose and addressed the class, "Boys and girls, 
we have a new student joining our class today. 
Please help me welcome little miss Princess 
Darling."  she graciously motioning towards 
Princess.  "Let's greet her with our normal 
welcome".

Princess turned to face the class, flashing 
her best "please like me" smile at her new 
classmates, the same smile she had flashed 
a hundred times at many a casting director.  

Princess knew what to expect.  She'd grown 
accustomed to the reaction of kids to her 
name. So, when the pointing and giggling 
began, she walked stoically with her head 
held high, to the only empty desk in the 
room.  She could feel the color rising in 
her cheeks as the laughter of the class grew 
louder and Mrs. Something-or-other shrieked 
commands of silence in vain. 

She didn't hear the raspy little voice at 
first.  Princess was trying desperately to 
block out the jeers of her classmates.  
That's why he reached over and grabbed her 
by the hand. She felt her eyes follow the 
gentle hand up his arm and to his face.  
He was not the cutest fellow in the world, 
she thought to herself.  But there was a 
kindness in his gaze that told her he was 
an instant ally.  

"Yes?" she asked cautiously.

"Hi, Princess Darling, I think I'll call you 
"Matches", 'cause you're skinny like a match 
stick and your eyes are on fire", he said, 
smiling thru a snaggled-tooth grin.

Princess was reeled in from her day-dreaming 
by the sound of the conductor's voice, "Ladies 
and gentlemen, we are now arriving at Penn 
Station, Downtown, Newark, New Jersey.  Please 
check the overhead rack for your luggage.  
Thank you for riding Amtrak, and have a 
pleasant stay".

As Princess collected her overnite bag, 
she was surprised by what seemed to be a 
nervousness creeping into the pit of her 
stomach. She hadn't seen her best friend in 
eight years.  She'd wanted to call him so 
many times, but knowing how his wife Barbara 
felt about her, she knew it would just cause 
trouble and problems for him.  So, she had 
kept her distance, hoping he could read between 
the lines of the bland, unspecific greeting 
cards she still sent on holidays and know 
that she would always consider him her 
best friend.


  
Koby had read her letter a thousand times.  
When he pulled the envelope from the mailbox, 
he assumed it was just another sympathy card. 
People had been so generous with their 
thoughts and prayers, and finances for that 
matter.  Word seemed to spread like wildfire, 
although he didn't remember telling another 
soul that God had finally relieved Barbara of 
her misery and called her home.  He remembered 
that he didnt cry when those weak brown eyes 
closed for the final time.  He remembered 
leaving the hospital with his father-in-law 
and getting in the car.  

After that, the week that followed was a 
complete blurr to him.  Even now, three months 
after the funeral, he couldn't remember much 
about the days that followed her death. By the 
time they'd driven home from the hospital, 
people just seemed to know.  He could remember 
feeling overwhelmed by the grief of losing his 
wife, of the preparations of the funeral, by 
the love shown to him by so many people.  His 
church family had really come to his aid, 
providing comfort, finance, guidance, and the 
food - he just couldn't get over how much 
black people liked to cook during times 
of bereavement. At times, he wanted to tell 
them to stop, to take the food and get the 
hell out, to leave him alone to come to terms 
with the death of this woman whom he had loved. 

It amazed him that weeks after her death the 
cards and expressions of sympathy were still 
coming in everyday as though he needed 
daily reminders that Barbara was no longer 
alive.  He'd almost chucked the eggshell 
colored envelope to the side when he recognized 
the writing.  It was then that he'd realized 
that for the first time in his life, since 
the age of ten, he'd actually gone three 
months without even thinking about her.

From the moment she had walked into his 5th 
grade classroom and announced that ridiculous 
name, "Princess Darling", he knew that she 
would be important to him.  He could still 
recall the baby-toothed smile that seemed 
to spark a fire way down deep in his ten year 
old soul whenever he called her "Matches".  
He could still see the pain in those eyes; 
those expressive sad eyes that seemed to 
have somehow glimpsed the future; a knowing 
look. Matches had a way of capturing people 
with her eyes - dark, smoldering embers that 
burned a hole straight thru him.  

No one could believe they were just friends.  
Their parents, teachers, mutual friends had 
all assumed that their unique bonding 
friendship would turn to love as they grew 
older.  

Although he was a lanky, goofy kinda kid in 
his adolescent years, they made a sharp 
looking couple as his body caught up with his 
head and his arms in his teens.  

Few understood their relationship really.  
It was okay for them to be inseparable as 
children; no one thought anything of it then.  
No one questioned their side by side 
companionship until they got older.  Afterall, 
Matches was a beautiful girl.  She was blessed 
with a natural resplendent beauty that even 
models were envious of. 

Matches didn't need make up. She didn't need 
any assistance at enhancing her looks. When 
the sun was shining, she was radiant.  A 
blinding beauty.  Cloudy days served as a 
smoky backdrop that added to her mystique. 
So beautiful she was, that most people were 
completely intimidated by her presence.  

As they grew older, Koby reaped well the 
benefits of being the only person who could 
get close to her.  He was the envy of his 
class, and often the object of frequently 
thrown sexual advances from girls trying to 
divert his attention. 

Koby was wise enough to know that women 
merely wanted to see if they could intercept 
what appeared to them to be his "obsession" 
with Matches. He'd been the recipient of 
much good sex in the hopeless attempts of 
young girls to uproot the significance of 
Matches in his life.  Even when he was 
interested in a girl, it usually didnt last 
long with their jealousy of Matches often 
forcing him to choose.  To him, there was 
NEVER any choice. Matches was his best 
friend, his pal, his life blood.  They 
could take it or leave it, but they 
couldn't change it.  There wasn't anything 
he wouldn't do for Matches.

That's why he had done the unthinkable and 
made love to her that day. Why he had 
jeopardized his marriage to the only woman 
who had even come close to meaning what 
Matches had meant to him.  Barbara was the 
only woman he had ever met who had 
absolutely no qualms about his relationship 
with Matches.  She was so sure of herself, 
so secure with who she was to him, that she 
had welcomed the idea of Matches coming to 
stay with them for a while when the Broadway 
show she'd been touring with had shut down.  

Koby remembered thinking that Barbara seemed 
almost as excited as he did.

"Barb, Matches wants to come down for a 
couple of weeks". 

He had posed the idea timidly, waiting for 
Barbara to blow his ass up. Afterall, they 
were still newlyweds. They had only been 
married the year before.  He had asked her 
a dozen times if she was sure.

"Oh Koby, I can't wait to see her again!  
God, she's soooo beautiful...and she loves 
you so much.  How can I not want her to come?  
She's your best friend!  I mean, look at 
your face baby!  You've been lit up since 
she even mentioned the idea.  Of course, 
I want you to be happy...besides, she can 
tell me some more dirty little secrets 
about your ass!"

He had hugged and kissed her and swung her 
around.  He felt so lucky to have an 
opportunity to spend time with the two most 
important women in his life.  Besides, he 
hadn't seen Matches in a year,and it would 
cut down the long distance bills for that 
month.

Now, standing in the train station, he 
wondered if he had made the right decision.  
So much time had passed.  Eight years.  So 
many things had changed in his life.  He had 
lost so much. The contents of her letter went 
through his mind again.


Hey Koby,

I don't know what to say.  I just returned 
from Europe and heard the news about Barb. 
I am so sorry I wasn't there for you, although 
I don't suppose it would have been appropriate.  
I will be in Newark on the 15th of this month.  
I know a lot of time has passed, but I need to 
see you Koby.  I need to know that you're okay. 
I plan to move to Paris in a month.  I'd just 
like to see you once before I leave for good. 
Please, please give me an opportunity to see 
you.  My train will be in at 3:15pm, train #12, 
track 4.  I need to see you, Koby. If you're 
there, I'll know it's okay.  If you're not, 
I'll know it's not.  Please, be there.

I still Love you,

Matches





He felt guilty.  What was he doing here?  It 
had only been three months since her death.  
He hadn't even begun to mourn the loss; 
not even at the funeral.  

Pictures of the pain on Barbara's face when 
she'd walked into the bedroom flashed across 
his mind. There he was, knee deep in the 
sweetest pussy he'd ever had.  He'd been 
yelling out her name; screaming "I love you 
Matches" at the top of his lungs as he 
struggled to survive the orgasm that was 
literally killing him to live through.  

It wasn't intended. he had no idea that 
he would wind up in this spot.  He had 
always admired her beauty, but even as 
children, she seemed to be a fruit too 
lovely, too delicate,  for him to even 
dream of touching.  He was completely 
caught off guard that day when she turned 
to him and asked, "Why haven't you ever 
wanted me, Koby?"   

Time seemed to stop for him at that moment.  
She seemed to be a lovely apparition, 
floating towards him, beckoning, yearning.  
And so he took her.  

As they kissed, he felt he was on the verge 
of completing a life long journey. And when 
he entered her, he knew that he had finally 
arrived where he had belonged all of his life.  

Even when he'd heard the door open, he 
couldn't stop.  

When his eyes connected with those of his 
wife, still, he couldnt conceal the joy, 
couldn't hide the ectasy as he heard Barbara 
scream in horror and run out of the house, he 
just couldn't stop until the final spurt of 
semen, until the last jerk of his body left 
him slumped between the thighs of the woman he 
had called his best friend for twenty years.  

He had watched as Matches slid from beneath 
him and quietly got dressed, knowing that 
the cost for those stolen moments of pleasure 
would prove to be a price too expensive. They 
had stared at each other for what seemed to be 
an eternity, as though they knew it would be an 
eternity before they ever saw one another again.

Barbara was never the same.  It was as if they 
woke up one day and found a brick wall had firmly 
planted itself between them overnite.  Oh, she 
forgave him eventually, but only after she found 
out about the cancer. First one breast, then the 
other. She was in remission for seven years before 
the cancer returned with a vengeance. She had lost 
her hair, her youthful beauty, her zest for life.  

Koby often felt as though he had invoked the cancer 
that raged within her petite little body.  As though 
he had planted it in her soul and slowly it began 
to rot her insides.  So, Koby was determined to be 
an unwavering strong tower for Barbara, as though 
he could somehow make her forget the hurt he had 
caused her. As though the pain of his betrayal had 
somehow diseased her body.  

He felt responsible for her eventual death. In his 
mind, he didn't even deserve to cry; hadn't earned 
the right to cry and begin the healing process.   
She had given up on life because of him.  Because 
of him and this woman whose train was pulling into 
the station at this very moment.



He checked himself.  What must he look like after 
eight years of living with guilt and three months a 
widower?  A thousand thoughts flooded his mind in a 
matter of seconds.  

He squinched his eyes to peer thru the crowd of 
people descending upon his thoughts.  And then she 
was there; standing before him, her eyes glistening 
like iced flames.  She seemed more beautiful than 
he had ever recalled.  

He reached out and took hold of the soft hands that 
had once scooped up jacks on hard wood floors.  
Overcome with an array of emotions ranging from joy 
to fear to love to resentment, he attempted to speak 
and found his voice had left him, as had his ability 
to think straight.  He could see the pleading in her 
eyes, sense her apprehension of being warmly 
embraced, like the first time he laid eyes on her 
in the fifth grade.  

His first attempt to speak failed.  Koby cleared
his throat as he felt a disobedient tear roll slowly 
down the left side of his face and said, "Princess 
Darling, I'm going to call you Matches, 'cause you're 
skinny and your eyes are on fire".

Matches reached out her hand and tenderly touched 
the tired, worn face of the only man who had ever 
made her feel like she was a woman.  She looked 
knowingly into his eyes as though she was opening 
a book to read his mind. 

Slowly, she placed her arms around him and pulled 
him close to her and said, "She forgave us a long 
time ago, Koby.  Now we have to forgive ourselves, 
Koby. Let it go, let it go."

Feeling the familiar warmth of her love lit a fire 
somewhere deep inside of him, Koby began to sob.  
He felt his body heave uncontrollably as his soul 
began to release the grief that had been tormenting 
him for three months. As though someone had 
loosened a too tight valve, his grief seem to 
explode within him.  

They stood in the middle of the train station.  
Holding him close to her, comforting this man whom 
she hadn't seen in eight years; Matches took notice 
of the curiousity on the faces of onlookers 
passing by.  

"What must they be thinking?" she thought. 

As she cupped Koby's face in her hands, she slowly 
began to kiss his tears, as though she could 
assume the weight of his burdens.  She looked into 
his eyes and smiled and finally understood why no 
one would ever believe they were just friends.


Yvonne
(c)1998
All Rights Reserved





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(c) 1998