Lucky Lemon #1
I was 17 years old the first time my parents let me drive alone on vacation. The trip is familiar with easy highways, open plains, and plenty of friendly gas stations. Most of all, it is an escape.
We were young and juvenile, embracing the freedoms of summers and cars. She lived off a recently paved road (I wish it was still gravel) in the middle of nowhere. She is my best friend, with warm brown eyes and the sweetest hugs. Her parents let us live in an old mobile home situated behind their own house. We decorated it to make it our own, and stocked it with food. We had small parties without alcohol or drugs; we played silly card games and watched girly movies. It was our home.
A warm summer rain, the kind that makes you want to twirl with your head facing the sky, pounded on the gravel driveway. He had come to visit our little home, to see me as I’d requested. The night had been fun; his face had crinkled up as he laughed softly enough that I could watch the blue in his eyes twinkle. We avoided conversing directly and played into the group dynamic, trying not to focus on the issue at hand.
Everyone left one by one, and finally, it was time for him to leave as well. He said goodnight to all, and I mustered the courage to follow him out. Immediately drenched by the rain, we ran to his car. So many things I’d been longing to say. So many things I’d wanted to tell him. Wanting to explain why I hadn’t called, wanting to tell him of the wigs and the needles and the pain. She was weak and fragile and I could not make it go away. He broke the silence as I stood there, awkward and dripping, trying to find the words. Saying everything but “I love you”, he confessed everything I had always suspected. I stared. The rain falling into my eyes, a chill coming over my body, thunder rumbling from far away, I stood and I stared. Shocked that he cared, I waited. Waited for the kiss, the embrace, the three little words, the things that never came. He hopped into his car and began to back out.
Running, I slammed the door behind me. She looked at me, her brown eyes probing, and nodded silently. Before I could say a word, the door knocked behind me.
There he stood, rain pouring. My heart skipped twenty beats and I knew that movies wouldn’t fail me. A man has to kiss a woman in the rain.
“My car’s stuck.”
A kick to the stomach.
We spent the next hour pushing his car out of the mud next to the driveway. Caked in mud, we took a picture and then he drove away.
I have since lost the picture. Every year I return at least twice. Our house is now occupied. However in the middle of the night, when the sky is clear, the stars are sparkling, and the moon is shining over the lake across the street, I sit on the side of the gravel driveway where his car was stuck. I smile and think of his beautiful blue eyes and soft touch. I remember the way his lips felt when he pressed them against mine softly on my next visit, and the way his hand gently brushed the hair out of my face when he was done. I smile as I stand and look up at the beauty of the moon, remembering as he told me, that somewhere he was standing too, looking at her beauty and thinking of me.
We were young and juvenile, embracing the freedoms of summers and cars. She lived off a recently paved road (I wish it was still gravel) in the middle of nowhere. She is my best friend, with warm brown eyes and the sweetest hugs. Her parents let us live in an old mobile home situated behind their own house. We decorated it to make it our own, and stocked it with food. We had small parties without alcohol or drugs; we played silly card games and watched girly movies. It was our home.
A warm summer rain, the kind that makes you want to twirl with your head facing the sky, pounded on the gravel driveway. He had come to visit our little home, to see me as I’d requested. The night had been fun; his face had crinkled up as he laughed softly enough that I could watch the blue in his eyes twinkle. We avoided conversing directly and played into the group dynamic, trying not to focus on the issue at hand.
Everyone left one by one, and finally, it was time for him to leave as well. He said goodnight to all, and I mustered the courage to follow him out. Immediately drenched by the rain, we ran to his car. So many things I’d been longing to say. So many things I’d wanted to tell him. Wanting to explain why I hadn’t called, wanting to tell him of the wigs and the needles and the pain. She was weak and fragile and I could not make it go away. He broke the silence as I stood there, awkward and dripping, trying to find the words. Saying everything but “I love you”, he confessed everything I had always suspected. I stared. The rain falling into my eyes, a chill coming over my body, thunder rumbling from far away, I stood and I stared. Shocked that he cared, I waited. Waited for the kiss, the embrace, the three little words, the things that never came. He hopped into his car and began to back out.
Running, I slammed the door behind me. She looked at me, her brown eyes probing, and nodded silently. Before I could say a word, the door knocked behind me.
There he stood, rain pouring. My heart skipped twenty beats and I knew that movies wouldn’t fail me. A man has to kiss a woman in the rain.
“My car’s stuck.”
A kick to the stomach.
We spent the next hour pushing his car out of the mud next to the driveway. Caked in mud, we took a picture and then he drove away.
I have since lost the picture. Every year I return at least twice. Our house is now occupied. However in the middle of the night, when the sky is clear, the stars are sparkling, and the moon is shining over the lake across the street, I sit on the side of the gravel driveway where his car was stuck. I smile and think of his beautiful blue eyes and soft touch. I remember the way his lips felt when he pressed them against mine softly on my next visit, and the way his hand gently brushed the hair out of my face when he was done. I smile as I stand and look up at the beauty of the moon, remembering as he told me, that somewhere he was standing too, looking at her beauty and thinking of me.
posted by Anonymous at 9:44 PM
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