Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Lovely Ladies Lounging

The trip ended with us lying on the beach most of the day together. Aside from being rather painfully brained by the lawn chairs we rented, and spending about an hour worrying about whether or not I had a concussion, there was not much excitement.

We had both bought two swimsuits, and had both found one that suited better than the other. Much to our mutual amusement we had bought identical swimsuits and those were the ones we despised. I ended up staying with my black bathing suit, and for our second trip to the beach, she wore a red bathing suit.

I sat in my lawn chair, read a book, pressed a cold bottle against my head, and watched her swim. She bought a swim float and blew it up, while sitting in the lawn chair with the most enchanting smile on her face, until finally she had a large Technicolor ducky that she could use to float in the water. In the early morning, on the beach in the resort neighborhood, there were not many people. The weather was not perfect, threatening to rain, with dark clouds blowing in over the palm trees overhead; however, the sun was still shining in parts, and the water was calmly lapping at the shore as we took turns playing in the waves. My turn was short as the exertion made me quickly dizzy—I probably didn't suffer a concussion, but took enough of a hit that I felt it better to take it easy rather than risk it.

Later we walked to a beach bar where we had the audacity to ask to be seated in the “no screaming children” section, so we could order drinks and eat at each other. We were accommodated in our request, but that didn’t stop families from coming into the place, and (against our will) we did end up within proximity of screaming children.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered in that moment.

There was only her.

Only me.

We sipped our drinks, sat back in our chairs, and were mostly quiet. Thinking. Enjoying each other. Enjoying the food. Walking hand in hand on the beach paths and kissing, like lovers do, as the wind whipped up and gentle tendrils of rain tickled our skin without much consistency.

We were the moment. Together.

The next day was quiet at home. We ate, we drank, we talked to our hosts, we watched the rain come and go and fall over the island that is Maui. Later we fell asleep in the dark, me not wanting to accept that she was going, her ready to go early in the morning. When I woke she was already gone, her flight being much earlier than mine.

She woke me as she was heading outvery early; outside was nothing but darkness. “I love you, I have to go.” I was half awake, half dreaming, half out of my mind, I wanted to bury myself in dreams and wake up to an erased moment, with her instead in my bed, in my arms. I drifted back to sleep.

When I woke again in the morning, she was gone.

My trip home was long but uneventful. The only thing for it now is to plan new trips.

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