couldn’t tell who moved first, but suddenly they were kissing.
She howled in delight, forgetting herself. Other sun-bathers looked over at her—some of them scowled but one or two laughed and waved, shouting back a “woo-hoo.” Marci noticed for the first time since arriving that morning how the quad had become populated. Real life. A group of shaggy guys tossed a Frisbee, showing off for the scantily dressed girls lounging on blankets. Several of the loungers sat with their slates on their knees. A few resourceful frat-boys were in the process of carrying a sofa onto the bright grass. A cooler bounced precariously on the ragged cushions of the couch. Marci licked her lips, wondering if the cooler contained water.
She looked back at her slate somewhat reluctantly, experiencing a strange hesitation about watching Blythe and Ramone kiss, though she’d been waiting for it to happen for days and days.
“What?” she blurted. Ramone was gone. Blythe was smoothing the front of her skirt and adjusting her top. Then the feed split and Marci was seeing Ramone fumbling his car key into the lock. “Ramone! No! What are you doing?”
*****
Sue. Sue. Sue. Sue. The thought pounded in his head.
He drove. He experienced that feeling again of being outside his body, watching himself act independently of his mind. The stereo in his car blared a song loudly.
A lake came into view, dark water spreading beneath the early afternoon sun. Without thinking much about it, he parked and turned the car off. Blessed silence. A strange hum filled him; the roar of the quiet. His breathing was ragged.
Mallards bobbed on the ruffling swells of the lake. Sunlight glinted off the fractured surfaces of the tiny waves. It seemed cold and harsh—the light on the water—but he knew it was warm beyond the small shell of his vehicle. A few people walked along the shore, tossing torn bits of bread to the ducks. Here and there, spaced out in a surprisingly even manner, fishermen cast lines from lawn chairs. A young mother strolled near the water with a baby strapped to her chest and a small boy beside her, cocking his arm back as far as possible then throwing the bread with all his might. The birds swarmed upon the offerings, snapping them up before they even had time to settle into the water.
Ramone smiled, then recalled what he was running from. He hadn’t gone home. He was here at the lake. Touching his lips, he closed his eyes and sat back against the seat with a sigh. He could still feel the soft texture of her skin; a sweet flavor lingered on his mouth. The smell of her hair and face filled him. Moving his hand to his shirt he let his hand rest where the ache was.
Why did he let it happen? Why didn’t he leave before anything could occur? Why did he wish he was still there letting her touch him, touching her, breathing her, surrendering?
He furrowed his brow, feeling confused. Why did he think it was wrong to let something happen between them? Did his vows to Sue even matter today, after how the world had changed? The sacred was dead. And Sue, she was miles away from him. The chasm was so obvious in their conversation. In everything. Their touches. Their eyes. They were lonely islands amidst a flood and the flood had eroded everything.
Before he knew it, he was on the shore of the lake, preparing to wade in. Resting against a dusty boulder, he rolled up his corduroys, took his black socks off and left them folded carefully beside the boulder, then put his shoes back on. The shore was rocky and the water just beyond it hid lures and discarded hooks. Even if he partially thought he deserved to drown, he was no glutton for punishment.
An old man fishing from the shore glanced at Ramone dubiously. A thin wisp of smoke curled around his face, rising from the cigar stub clenched between his teeth. His bare forearms were covered in dirty, blurred tattoos and his head was protected by a dark blue baseball hat with some kind of seal
She howled in delight, forgetting herself. Other sun-bathers looked over at her—some of them scowled but one or two laughed and waved, shouting back a “woo-hoo.” Marci noticed for the first time since arriving that morning how the quad had become populated. Real life. A group of shaggy guys tossed a Frisbee, showing off for the scantily dressed girls lounging on blankets. Several of the loungers sat with their slates on their knees. A few resourceful frat-boys were in the process of carrying a sofa onto the bright grass. A cooler bounced precariously on the ragged cushions of the couch. Marci licked her lips, wondering if the cooler contained water.
She looked back at her slate somewhat reluctantly, experiencing a strange hesitation about watching Blythe and Ramone kiss, though she’d been waiting for it to happen for days and days.
“What?” she blurted. Ramone was gone. Blythe was smoothing the front of her skirt and adjusting her top. Then the feed split and Marci was seeing Ramone fumbling his car key into the lock. “Ramone! No! What are you doing?”
*****
Sue. Sue. Sue. Sue. The thought pounded in his head.
He drove. He experienced that feeling again of being outside his body, watching himself act independently of his mind. The stereo in his car blared a song loudly.
A lake came into view, dark water spreading beneath the early afternoon sun. Without thinking much about it, he parked and turned the car off. Blessed silence. A strange hum filled him; the roar of the quiet. His breathing was ragged.
Mallards bobbed on the ruffling swells of the lake. Sunlight glinted off the fractured surfaces of the tiny waves. It seemed cold and harsh—the light on the water—but he knew it was warm beyond the small shell of his vehicle. A few people walked along the shore, tossing torn bits of bread to the ducks. Here and there, spaced out in a surprisingly even manner, fishermen cast lines from lawn chairs. A young mother strolled near the water with a baby strapped to her chest and a small boy beside her, cocking his arm back as far as possible then throwing the bread with all his might. The birds swarmed upon the offerings, snapping them up before they even had time to settle into the water.
Ramone smiled, then recalled what he was running from. He hadn’t gone home. He was here at the lake. Touching his lips, he closed his eyes and sat back against the seat with a sigh. He could still feel the soft texture of her skin; a sweet flavor lingered on his mouth. The smell of her hair and face filled him. Moving his hand to his shirt he let his hand rest where the ache was.
Why did he let it happen? Why didn’t he leave before anything could occur? Why did he wish he was still there letting her touch him, touching her, breathing her, surrendering?
He furrowed his brow, feeling confused. Why did he think it was wrong to let something happen between them? Did his vows to Sue even matter today, after how the world had changed? The sacred was dead. And Sue, she was miles away from him. The chasm was so obvious in their conversation. In everything. Their touches. Their eyes. They were lonely islands amidst a flood and the flood had eroded everything.
Before he knew it, he was on the shore of the lake, preparing to wade in. Resting against a dusty boulder, he rolled up his corduroys, took his black socks off and left them folded carefully beside the boulder, then put his shoes back on. The shore was rocky and the water just beyond it hid lures and discarded hooks. Even if he partially thought he deserved to drown, he was no glutton for punishment.
An old man fishing from the shore glanced at Ramone dubiously. A thin wisp of smoke curled around his face, rising from the cigar stub clenched between his teeth. His bare forearms were covered in dirty, blurred tattoos and his head was protected by a dark blue baseball hat with some kind of seal
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