Water and Earth

His eyes were closed, his hand stretched outward, fingers splayed, moving as though it were parting a curtain. He felt the water flow around his fingers, held his breath, listened for silence. Or, rather, a blemish in it. But silence was all he heard.

Then, a swish, not a splash, not a slosh, more like the sound of sheets rearranging than a water sound. He turned quickly, dived at the sound, and sank into the water, feeling nothing. Quickly he got up again, and hurriedly - but as silently as possible - he moved to a different place.

He heard a giggle, but it seemed to echo from all around him. The lake was dark, the surface of the water had been still as a mirror when they chased each other into it.

She was toying with him, he knew, but he couldn’t give up. He hoped for luck, or mercy. He didn’t think she would give him either. He tried, in vain, to get the upper hand, but he could never manage to get more than on even terms with her. She was winning this.

She was a better swimmer. She had been swimming silently since first she knew water. Ages ago, before the beaches became bleached and sandy, when they were first dirt and mud between her toes, when the deer weren’t afraid of her. She learned as a child to swim so silently she could swim up behind fish. She could hold her breath for minutes at a time, and loved being weightless in the water.

She felt at home, loved, accepted in the water. It held her. Embraced her. She and the water were lovers.

He had no such training. He was an oaf. She heard ever sound he made. She laughed when he lunged at the lake sounds - or the sounds in his head. In the dark, with her eyes closed, she could see every move he made, because she knew the water. She would give him a while longer, and then defeat him, finally. She didn’t know if he deserved it, what she would do to him later, but she felt in her heart he did. Look what he had done to her. Her teeth clenched.

She watched him fumble for a while, watched him splash around clumsily, ruining the perfect peace of the lake. The name of the game was stealth, and he was ruining it.

Silently she swam up behind him. Silently she stood there, as he stood there with the water splashing on him, immovable, like earth, not water. The opposite of her essence.

She was standing behind him, silently, and he was standing in front of her, oblivious. Her right hand placed itself on his shoulder, snaked around his neck, her thumb caressed his jawbone. A smile blossomed on her face when she heard him jump. He had lost.

His eyes opened as a kiss was placed beneath his left ear. A whisper.

“I grow tired of this game.” His eyes close as he lets out the breath he has been holding, almost in relief. Her words were like a soft cloth against his cheek.

“Let’s go back to camp. You can take me for a roll in the hay.”