Night

Nighttime was my favorite time of day. Not because I loved the dark, but because it seemed the purest. The quietest. The breeze always smelled sweeter and the air was lighter. Clear, cloudless nights were best. Watching the stars undulate, grow and shrink ever so slightly, made me feel serene. If only the innocent sight of the flickering heavenly bodies was calming me now.1

Goose bumps erupted on my bare arms, and my shoulders shuddered gently. I felt a light hand cup my shoulder, but I scooted away from the touch. I heard a shallow sigh behind me. I curled my hands into tight fists and shifted myself onto my side. The over-sized hammock underneath my swayed gently, and the trees creaked in futile protest.2

“You can’t still be mad.”3

I squinted my eyes angrily, even though he couldn’t see. “Oh yes, I can.”4

An unseasonably chilled breeze swept past, and the goose bumps on my arms and legs flared, like my temper. The body behind me shivered.5

“Let’s go inside. You’ll be warmer in there. We can talk.”6

“I’m fine,” I lied. “You can go inside though, if you want.”7

“You’re being so unreasonable!” he growled, angry himself now.8

This made me furious. I shot up into a sitting position and whipped my head a round to look him straight in the face. He laid there, one arm rested underneath his head, the other draped lazily across his stomach. His eyebrows were pulled together and his lips were crushed into a tight line. But, through the harshness of his face, he was still beautiful. A warm, dark brown, his hair curled randomly here and there, sticking out in places all over his head. Underneath his furrowed eyebrows, his chocolaty eyes held a slight look of pain. Or was it guilt?9

“I think that my actions are completely reasonable,” I shot at him. I couldn’t help but being less angry than before. If only I hadn’t looked at him…10

The tension slowly melted from his face and he sat up also. The hammock swung more violently than before and my arms shot out instinctively. He seized the opportunity and grabbed my wrists, pinning them strongly but gently to his sides. My cheek fell comfortably against his neck. He was warm, which was a nice change from the chilly air, so I didn’t protest. I just let myself sink into his body and sighed. When he decided that I was staying put, he released my hands, which now curled around his waist, and wrapped his arms gently around the back of my neck.11

I breathed him in, remembering. It had been a long time since he had held me like that. My nose rested against his skin. He smelled the same. My hands searched across his back until I found the familiar raised freckle there. That was the same. The fingers on his right hand grazed the back of my neck, a gesture he always had used to calm me. His voice, his eyes, his warmth. All of it was exactly the same as it had been those three long months ago. I was still afraid. What if he wasn’t the same inside? Did he have new feelings? Different ones? He would have new memories, which wouldn’t include me. Who would they include? I shuddered against him, and his arms tightened.12

His lips moved to my ear. “So, it’s reasonable to hurt me?”13

“What?” I mumbled into his chest.14

“You said that you’re actions are completely reasonable. Does that mean that causing me pain is reasonable to you?”15

I lifted my head from his chest, but his hands didn’t drop from my neck. “What do you mean, I’m causing you pain?”16

His eyes darted back and forth between mine, and his lips parted slightly. He took a breath, and then said, “I’ve apologized. More than once. And I’m here!” he cried, a grin shattering across his face. “I’m here with you now. And I’m not going anywhere!” He searched my face for a change, but my expression stayed clear. I couldn’t let myself trust him completely. Not yet. 17

His eyes continued to dart, but his smile faded. His shoulders fell, along with the hands that were still on my neck.18

“But you won’t forgive me,” he said. It wasn’t a question.19

When I didn’t reply, his face became suddenly angry again. He swung his legs off of the hammock and stalked to the edge of the patio. The sudden swinging rocked me dangerously and I gripped the intertwining rope in my fingers until the movement stopped.20

Anger sparked in my chest again as I glared at his silhouette against the black sky. The pink that had hovered just above the horizon had finally disappeared and the night had taken over. 21

“You hurt me, Andrew. Don’t even start to think that I could be hurting you as much as you did me!” I called in his direction, my loud voice slicing through the quiet evening. I lowered it dramatically as a sharp pain jabbed my throat at the memory. “You hurt me.”22

Andrew didn’t turn, but I heard him say into the darkness, “I know.”23

“Maybe we should just end it,” he had said to me one day, after keeping a strange distance from me for a while. “I think it would be better. For the both of us.” He had taken my surprised, blank stare as a confirmation. He squeezed my hand for the last time, and then he was gone.24

What made it harder was that he was still there. Every day I saw him, but I didn’t know if he ever saw me. I saw the hand that had once belonged to me holding another girl. The smile that he had reserved for my private eyes was put on display for others to see. His eyes crinkled and his laughter continued. He didn’t see me cry. He didn’t see me die.25

And now he was here, on my back porch, three silent months later, asking for forgiveness like it was something that should be guaranteed. He reached out for it like a child would reach for a piece of candy.26

When he had left, I didn’t move on like he had. My hand stayed empty and my heart stayed barred. I was always afraid to open my eyes for fear of the tears that I knew were hiding. I didn’t want his sympathy. I just wanted him. So him seeing me cry was out of the question. I’d rather have none of him at all than him feeling sorry for stupid, old me.27

Andrew placed a hand on his forehead and slumped onto one foot. I watched him cautiously. He turned to face me. “I’m sorry,” the simple words leaked out from between his lips.28

“I know.” I repeated his earlier words. A burning started in my chest and I could feel pinpricks inside my eyelids. I blinked. 29

Andrew advanced towards me, his arms out, pleading. “What do you want me to do? Baby, just tell me what you want me to say.”30

Oh no. The tears he had yet to see began to leak. I wasn’t sure if it was from the pain anymore, or if it was something else, but I still didn’t want him to see me cry. I turned away from him on the hammock, just as the first hot droplet slid down my cheek. 31

The next all happened in seconds. As I turned, my foot tangled in the rope, and my weight caused the hammock to dip sharply to one side. It curled around itself, trapping my foot. I hung by my ankle for a second, until it slipped free. My cheek hit the dirt sprinkled concrete followed by the rest of my body.32

I slapped my hands against the cool concrete and let the tears flow. I was embarrassed, and I didn’t even attempt to stand. Though, I was hardly surprised when someone lifted me up from the ground.33

“Torri? Torri are you alright? Are you hurt?” Andrew’s hands gripped my upper arms and he searched my face. Contrary to what I thought I would do, I let my blurry eyes linger on his face. He saw the tears, I knew, but I didn’t care.34

“Y-yes,” I blubbered.35

“Where?”36

I wanted to plaster my hand across my heart where I thought it should hurt. But the ripping sensation that had occupied it for months wasn’t present. So instead, I feebly pointed to my ankle.37

Andrew scooped me up into his arms and backed towards the cool grass. He sat easily, careful not to let any part of my touch the ground. The chilly wind was stronger farther away from the warm light radiating from the house, and my teeth clattered noisily together between my sobs.38

He hooked one arm under my legs at the knees and held them tightly to himself. The other arm wrapped around my shoulders. My cheek found the familiar spot on his neck. Andrew slowly rocked my back and forth like a child. I didn’t realize I was crying so hard until Andrew began to murmur, “Shh, Torri, shh. I’m so sorry. It’s going to be alright…”39

I expected to feel angry at his apologies, like I had before. I thought I would be mortally embarrassed for crying over something as silly as falling two feet out of a hammock. Instead, a strange feeling washed over me. Something I hadn’t felt for a long time. I was comforted. I was warm, inside and out. I needed him with me, and I was finally going to learn to accept it.40

His thumb found my cheek and he wiped away a mixture of tears and dirt. “I’m sorry,” he whispered for the millionth time. I heard his voice quaver, so I looked up at his face. Fresh tears replaced the ones he had just wiped away when I saw him crying too.41

I placed my hands on both sides of his crumpled face and wiped the tears like he had for me. “I forgive you.”42

The words poured as smooth as silk from between my lips. I was more relieved than surprised at the ease. Everything was going to be okay now. I knew it would be.43

Andrew’s face lit up and my private smile danced across his face. He choked out a little chuckle which eventually cascaded into a jovial belly-laugh. He swung me up onto my feet and into his arms. He crushed me to his heaving chest, and his breath elevated the hair resting on my shoulder. 44

We stood still together for the longest time, breathing in harmony. I was afraid to let go, because I didn’t want the aching to return. I told myself that I didn’t have to be afraid. Because I would never let go. And I would never let him let me go.45

He pulled away from me very slightly, just so that he could see my face. His eyes traveled downward to my feet. I realized that I was balancing on one foot. My other ankle still throbbed slightly.46

“You’re ankle!” he called, scooping me up again.47

“It’s fine,” I replied, but he didn’t put me down. I was glad.48

We returned to the hammock. The invisible line that had been between us just minutes before was dissolved. He laid me down upon it, and then raced to the other side. He laid down too, so close that our noses touched. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his as he slowly shifted his head back and forth. I sighed audibly.49

“Torri?” he whispered. His breath seeped into my half open mouth.50

“Mmhm?” I replied, keeping my eyes closed.51

Andrew exhaled slowly. “I love you,” he whispered right against my lips.52

My eyes opened lazily and I smiled with pure joy. 53

“It took me three months without you to figure it out. Not being able to hold you, to be close to you like this, made me realize how much I really need you. I…I died without you.”54

His somber words sent pleasant chills up my spine. Those long months he had felt that way I had. Dead. 55

“You seemed happy enough,” I said back, testing him.56

“I wasn’t. Not for one second.” He paused, reading my mind. “No girl I ever held felt as good as you. It took me too long to finally figure out that none of them ever would.”57

My hands reached for his, and he laced his fingers through mine.58

“Are you happy now?” I asked.59

Andrew smiled and snaked his arms around my waist. 60

“Incredibly.”61

“Me too.”62

Our lips met in an anxious hurry. They moved together in such a way that demonstrated how much the absence of the other had affected us. Our feet intertwined and I knotted my hands in his hair. I didn’t want to leave any space between us. He didn’t either. His arms wound around me so tightly you couldn’t even slip the thinnest piece of paper between our bodies.63

I broke away from him slightly, and he made a small noise of protest. He searched for my lips but I placed a finger on his mouth. His eyes squinted in confusion, and his arms began to loosen.64

“No,” I murmured. “I love you too.”65

The belly-laugh erupted from deep in his stomach again. I heard myself, to my surprise, whole-heartedly laugh along.66

Andrew threw himself into the kiss again.67

The night seemed our audience. The night bugs chirped in a gleeful orchestra and the trees which had groaned in protest before now sang in a strange, beautiful way. The stars which had seemed so far before now felt inches from my bare skin. The moon felt as warm as the morning sun. 68

Nighttime would always be my favorite time of the day.69