August Air

I spent so many nights—just looking up at the sky. Tracing the stars into their constellations with my fingertips.

I used to dream of you. I used to dream that we were free to think, to believe, to be…but dreams never come true.

I also used to dream that somewhere, somehow, we would find each other again. I unknowingly hoped that you believed in destiny as much as I did, because sometimes when two people believe something’s going to happen hard enough, it sometimes does.

We met in the middle of the night. Horrid creatures were squawking and fussing like they always did in those days. Porch lights illuminated our fragile faces and eager eyes, and the moon bounced its reflection off the river before us.

It was none the less a romantic scene, occupied only by two cynical souls.

We never meant to be, but we were poison to that place. We polluted its beauty with sorrow, and its life with hate. And though we thrived on it, nothing else in nature could, for we were beyond nature, beyond normal, we were in love.

Of course we didn’t know it at the time, you never do when you’re that young, but we felt something, whether it was infatuation or hatred, we could not decide, but we knew it was something…

Sometimes we could be found back to back, sitting in the grass and wearing the dullest of expressions. Both of us were far too stubborn to ever apologize for any hurtful words we had inflicted upon one another.

We would sit there anyway, our hands folded neatly in our laps as if we were afraid that if we left them unclasped they would find themselves among forbidden territory.

We would exchange nervous glances, then look away as though our heads had never been turned toward one another. Sometimes I’d catch you looking at me, your brown eyes twinkling with the innocence you only pretended to possess, and I’d whisper something, although you never seemed to catch exactly what I had said.

I never knew exactly what you thought of me, and I didn’t particularly care to know. To be truthful, it terrified me to think that you had anything but absolute love and admiration for me, so I was careful to avoid any situations in which your true feelings would be exposed.

One night, the inevitable happened and you allowed your deepest thoughts to be revealed to me. You spoke more softly than usual, but you wouldn’t let me see your face. I told you not to talk so fast.

It took almost six minutes to get any sensible words out of you, and when you spoke, it seemed to me that something other than yourself had taken over your mind. You said, “I love you.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything at all. Instead I sat there, making you suffer with my silence, and I suppose that was worse than anything I could’ve said.

The next day was upon us and you spotted me sitting on my usual patch of grass. You walked over to me, doing that thing with your hips like you always do. You swaggered your love drunk body towards mine and flopped down next to me, leaning back until you were lying completely flat. You heaved a sigh as I reached a hand down to your lips in an attempt to silence you. You did not oblige. Instead you spoke of valleys and streams, and sleepy southern towns you once frequented.

When nightfall came we were still lying in the grass. You gazed with me this time up at the tiny dots that filled the night sky, pointing out constellations and reciting philosophies we once heard while listening too closely to too many people. I allowed the love within myself to finally bloom. I guess there really is something about that August air that just makes you want to feel.