Nights

"No more drinks for you tonight," you, whispering into my ear, whisking my glass away.

"That tickles," I cower and giggle. The duo onstage is playing "Turn Your Lights Down Low" and I am feeling warm all over. Warm from the beer, the mojito, from you. "And what was that you said?" I turn sideways to look at you, rest my cheek on my hand, and gaze at your jawline. I trace it with my eyes, up to your cheek, your brows, your eyes--gold-flecked, dark pools by the dim lights of the bar. I could disappear into them. I know I would; I often do.

You smile. "I said I think you're drunk." I look at your mouth. I've always liked looking at your mouth. I know their movements, their rest.

A waitress comes by, smiling. "More drinks?"

You shake your head, "no more, thanks. Our bill, please."

"But I want another mojito," I, pouting. You kiss the tip of my nose. You don't say anything. Our check arrives and you place three money bills on the small tray. "It's time to go, Love. We don't wanna miss the moon."

"Alright." I get up, letting you lead me out of the bar. The night breeze greets us as we step into the sand, and I wrap my arms around my shoulder.

"Cold?" You pull me close, and I smell the scent of your skin--clean, familiar, a scent I know by heart.

"Hmm, you smell nice." I snuggle close to you as we walk toward the shore. Now and again, a wave crashes against another, creating a rhythm that both fascinates and comforts. Moonshine reflects on the water.

"Let's sit there," you point to a spot.

"Have you forgotten what day today is?" Your voice is low and calm.

"Today is a beautiful day," I murmur  sleepily, lulled by the sound of the sea, enchanted to a stupor by the moonlight. I am watching the waves, wondering if you are, too.

You laugh. "Years ago, we pulled an all-nighter and shared a fluffy blanket underneath the stars. Tonight was when I finally gathered the guts the tell you how I felt."

I break loose from being nestled in the crook of your arm and turn around to look at you. "But that was eons ago! And you once confessed you only got around to teeling me because I told you I had been having dreams about you, for some unexplained reason."

I smile at the memory. I lean back against your chest, listening to your heartbeat, reliving all the fumbling and trembling and shyness of that night.

"You keep forgetting I have the combined memory of five brilliant men," you laugh and kiss the top of my head.

"Bah, humbug. You didn't seem so sure of yourself then, and I was wracking my brains for what could have possessed the Mr. Swagger I knew that he seemed so uncertain, all of a sudden. I could taste your fear then, do you know?"

You brush your thumb along my forearm. "But here we are, Love. Here we are."

I am a little surprised by your thoughtful, mellow mood. You seldom have them and I wish you'd have them more often. "And all that week, you seemed so happy and so sad, both at the same time. I had to keep telling you--this love is what it is, this love is what it is, this love is what it is--until I knew the words by heart and could recite them in my sleep."

You wrap your arms tighter around me. "I believed you, then. I just wasn't so sure I believed in myself. I am full of questions--always have been."

"I know," I say, "but see, Love, asking never leads anywhere except to more questions. Sometimes, we just have to let things be. Just feel, just be. Don't you think that makes one more alive than asking and seeking? The universe conspires to let happen the things that happen and will happen. I mean--did it even occur to you that we would meet, at all, before we  saw each other for the first time?"

"I know. I learned that from you. It takes courage to surrender to the air. I have never been good at letting go--I need to grab everything by the horns."

"Yeah, that's why you used to throw fits of rage so often and that's why you would keep talking about being in between rocks and hard places and advocating Murphy's Law." I pinch your arm and you laugh. "But anyway, there's one thing I'm sure I will never, ever learn," I look up at you and tickle your chin.

"And what's that?"

I turn my gaze back to the sea. "I don't think I will ever learn how to let you go."

Splashing waves, the strains of a guitar, a friendly breeze blowing. "It's not as if I didn't try. I practiced, everyday, in case you didn't know, long before I was even aware I was thinking of you much more often than I should. But I never figured out how--even my books couldn't teach me that."

"I'm glad you failed miserably. Otherwise, you wouldn't be in my arms right now, sharing this sea with me."

"I wish this night could go on forever."

We both turn quiet, and I'd like to think our minds are meeting somewhere, in this hour, one.

Somewhere in my soul, rapture. Gratefulness fills me and I whisper a prayer into the sea, for handing you over to me, if only for this moment.

Above us, the moon glows bright and silent, illuminating the sky with its gentle light.