it's a long story

all of this will spill out

How I felt like my life was almost empty, except the spaces filled with nightmares and the feeling that winter would never end. The stagnant, dull feeling, empty of passion or desire.

How suddenly you just walked up to me and asked me something simple. If I wanted to go out with you that day, or another time. Soon it started...

The first hints of falling, the first glimmer of joy or even ecstasy. Sitting with you at the coffee shop, you in your red shirt and nice black jacket, walking by your side along the seawall, down the shore. With you and your friends by Narrow River at sunset, where the light was so perfect and for the first time in too long to measure, I felt like I belonged, here, in the world, alive.

You were so nice, asking questions about me. What CD is in my car right now? And you laughed at my crazy stories, like the thing about the Christmas trees and pranks from high school... You leaned back against my car and said, "I had a really good time. I'd like to do this again some time." I agreed. You waved goodbye as I drove away.

When you would call or text almost every day asking if I wanted to go do things. Now I am wishing I had found a way to say yes. The Explosions in the Sky show in Providence and going over your house late at night to watch a movie.

The second date at the beach with you, in the cold and fog. I was less timid because Nikki was there. We walked together down the beach again. Then standing close to you by the seawall and eventually you put your arm around me, which felt perfect. You started terribly singing random songs. We talked and laughed. Absurd things like the benefits of selective invisibility and what if there were the ghost of a pirate behind us, who long ago drowned in the knee-deep water below and to this day haunts Narragansett in his humiliation. We agreed that we were both crazy... you still had your arm around me...

One of the best days of my life. The glorious Tuesday when we left class and walking down the stairs, I said I didn't feel like going to my classes and asked if I could go to the beach with you. Outside, into the exuberant warm air, bright colors, green leaves and flowers. Sitting on the front lawn of Lambda, next to you, looking at the flowering trees across the street and the vibrant blue sky, then glancing in your direction. Making fun of a biker dressed in yellow and purple spandex and talking about your graduation.

In your car driving to the ocean, me in the passenger seat and a friend of yours in the back. I tried to think of things to say and found it surprisingly not as difficult as usual. You kept switching CDs and the only one I remember is Ziggy Stardust, after which you said, "Thank you, David Bowie." You asked if I had ever read The Phantom Tollbooth and said it would be fun to be a children's book author.

At Bass Rock, two rich people's dogs started to follow us as we clambered over the rocks. We went down to a secluded place. Leaning against a rock by the sea, you next to me and Steve sitting on the next rock over, sipping beers and passing a one-hitter between the two of you. Me? No thanks.

Then the quiet when you laid down on another rock, looked up at me and said, "I can't believe you're not even facing the ocean," when I smiled and climbed down next to you. It was a bit of an awkward position so you said, "Is that completely uncomfortable?" "Yeah, kind of completely uncomfortable." We laughed about how I, wearing a skirt, was dressed inappropriately for rock climbing. Steve got up & disappeared over the rocks.

You put your arm around me and I laid my head on your chest. Eyes half-closed, your hand stroking my waist, my hand holding onto your half-unzipped sweatshirt. The sunlight everywhere, warming every part of me, and the soft sound of the sea. When I opened my eyes I would see your chest, your hand, a can of beer and the bright blue ocean. As I laid there with you, time slowed and stopped and the moment was eternal. We didn't say anything. We might already have been there for hours when you lifted your head, looked at me, smiled and kissed me softly.

It felt like being under a spell, completely enchanted. An entirely private place, only us, on the rocks by the sea. Speaking or sudden movements might have broken the spell. I felt completely relaxed and completely elated at the same time. One of the most amazing things I have ever felt.

I don't know how long we laid like that, but eventually we moved. Your foot was asleep, I moved and knocked over the beer can accidentally, then we got up and started walking over the rocks. You gave me your hand when it was difficult to climb higher. We came to another place and stood looking out to sea. I couldn't stop smiling when I looked at you and you said, "What?" Then giddily I could only say, "I like you." Then we sat down on the rock.

Sweet saltwater kisses and deep kisses, your hands, me at ease but nervous at the same time, trusting you but wondering if I really should... but all the while, still under that delicious enchantment... Until I broke away, sat looking toward the sea, then laid down beside you and said to slow down. My head on your chest, my hand on yours.

When we got up soon after that, was it really because we both said we were getting cold? Because you broke the spell by seeing what time it was? Or, because you realized you weren't going to get any?

We climbed across the rocks, found Steve, you went on an expedition to retrieve the rest of the beer, then we went back to the car and left. You made me nervous, smoking while you were driving. I made myself nervous thinking about what had happened, thinking about what you were thinking and how it didn't seem like you were thinking about it at all.

After we dropped off Steve at Lambda, when you drove me down to my car, I leaned across and kissed you quickly. I think I imagined that you looked the tiniest bit surprised. "Give me a call." Then the sudden moment of panic before I opened the door, when I asked, "You know when I said that I think we should slow down? That's not going to be a problem or anything - is it?" And you, looking carefree, saying "No, no I guess not," and I said I wanted to see you again. "So," you said, "give me a call."

"Yeah, it's my last Greek Week, and it's the only time I really care that I joined a fraternity, and..."

Greek Week, when I presume you didn't call back because you were drunk and stoned. In class Tuesday when you sat next to me and talked like normal. The Earth Day festival on the quad, when you texted me to see if I was going, the relief of being with you again. You were wearing plaid with argyle and I even thought that was cute. The biggest lamb was named Ursula and you debated whether to spend $50 on a Grateful Dead wall-hanging and we walked across the quad talking about your final film project. By the rock wall, watching the little kids walk away disappointed. Give me a call.

Last class Thursday, you were too busy to do anything, but, you said, "Another time. Give me a call." I did. Nothing back. A single drunken text message you probably didn't even know you were sending me about what you were doing that day. (Getting wasted before your last college class. Just lovely.)

Where are you? What are you doing?
At Lambda, drinking. In the kitchen at your job. Making a film. Writing your papers. At your house. At your apartment.
Why don't you call me?
What happened to how you were on the first dates, so sweet and kind and interesting, singing random songs and talking about absurd things with me?

I don't want to feel broken again... and I don't want winter to come back now...

Under the spell, everything was blooming, delirious warmth and the blue of the sky so deep and bright, drunk on spring air and thoughts of you. Waking up with the sunrise every day, half-asleep dreams about you and when I would get to see you again. Everything new, promising.

Why did you let me down?