Love Story (Part One)

Steadily the rain pours in a rhythm that has me awake at this late hour. The small light beside my bed allows the canvas of stars outside my window to be seen while I read. I do not read now, my eyes skimming the page, absently I glance over the pages, and random words catch my attention while I recall the events that have brought me here.

 What moments of sorrow are these that keep me from dream and what times are these that make it difficult to look beyond these days?  I look at his photo and wonder if our time spent together was no more than a facade. Those days shared now seem more like a dream enclosed within ironic truth. It began on one Friday morning and ended the same, a week later.

The clouds drift in small patches across an otherwise blue sky. I sit in this lovely park on such a beautiful day. Some children play nearby, birds singing in the trees around me, and the daily press before me waiting to be read. The rest of the day open to many possibilities I sit hoping that any one of these possibilities will happen upon me at any moment now. I am not restless per say, but I do have desires that need tending to.

I sit while time passes, each moment, and I listen to other people transfixed by their own moments. Children race down beaten path, a grandma feeds bread to pigeons, and a boy throws rocks that glide across the surface of the pond as this writer contemplates the very meaning of life: at least as it relates to me.

I find myself, in my solitude, at ease with being without a love that I so desire. I look out at the masses gathered at different places throughout the park and I take in their joy that flows so freely while my delight is in the mere watching of these pleasant folk. I watch them while within me a smile greater than that that is physically achievable takes form.

Time passes while I dare to dream of love found among these park benches, among the trees, and anywhere else love can take shape. The wind through branches overhead gentle as such, people’s joyous laughter, and boys splashing at water’s edge are silenced for a newly discovered dream that takes me by the whole and takes me away from this place for somewhere so distant yet so near. I have his face before my eyes like a candle in the night guiding me onward into bliss. He is there next to me, us being the sole inhabitants of this place, as our bodies inch closer together. I look into his eyes, deep blue like the deepest sea, his lips moist and waiting, the slight curls of his brown hair, and his eyes look into me. He sees me for the person I am and loves me. Our bodies so close. Our lips about to touch when dream fades into the actual.

I look up to see a boy sit next to me, slightly out of breath he is, and he looks at me with a smile. I would be mad to have my dream interrupted by any but such a beautiful creature as this that sits only inches from me. He is speaking, apologizing for disturbing me, but I stare in silence at his golden blond hair, which dances in a gentle breeze. He looks at me and tells me that he is thirsty. I tell him that I live at the edge of the park and that he is more than welcomed to come with me for a glass of water. He nods and we depart for my house.

We walk slowly, gentle breeze flows through the tress, birds singing, and our hands touch. At first, it is merely the touch of our hands meeting while we walk. Then his hand takes hold of mine and our hands join. I look at him, from time to time, thinking of him. I wonder why he approached me for water and I wonder the meaning of his hand in mine.

My house is a small two bedroom at the edge of the park. I tell him to sit in my living room while I walk to the kitchen for his water. I think of him as I fill a glass with water. I wonder if he is the one that I was waiting for all of those days in the park. Days spent dreaming of meeting the boy that I would share my life with. I recall those many days spent sitting on that very bench:  days that, at the time, seemed so long and futile. Now, I have the realization of many dreams waiting for me in my living room.

I walk back through the house to the living room. I find the room empty. Could it be that I dreamt it all? I question the idea that I walked in a state of dream back to my house and poured a glass of water for a boy, who is no more than a figment of that dream. I walk through my house with hope that the boy is there waiting, and not a part of some elaborate dream.

My bedroom door is open, which I find strange since I always leave it closed during the day. I push it open expecting to find another empty room. The door opens to reveal the boy on my bed, his pants and boxers pulled down to his ankles, and him resting as if waiting for me to arrive. I sit the water on the dresser, next to the full sized mirror that reflects the beauty of this youth, and I sit next to him uncertain of what will occur next.

The boy, Thomas as he tells me, leans closer to me. Our lips meet and join. Our tongues mingle within these enclosures as his hand guides my hand to his waiting body. My fingers find him eager, and ready for me. Our fingers explore as we undress, our tongues exploring each other’s mouth. In our nakedness we embrace and become one. The sky outside turns purple and then black with stars while these bodily fluids are exchanged by numerous means and this love we share connects us in ways more than mere flesh.

My door is wide open. I could consider the possible ramifications of us being found in such a state of undress by my parents but these thoughts are pushed aside. Thomas and I rest after much enjoyment. We cuddle, our bodies intertwined, and I think how this is greater than any dream I’ve ever dreamt. We close our eyes in embrace only to open them with such a fright.

Thomas was the first to open his eyes as he nudges me awake. I open my eyes to the sight that makes Thomas tremble. Through the sleep in my eyes I see my parents standing over us. We do not move: neither one of us attempts to cover ourselves. My dad walks out of the room first and then my mom. My mom tells us to dress before walking out. 

The living room is normally an inviting place, but now I sit afraid of the consequences of our shared love. We hold hands as my parents stare at us. They shout at us about so many things. They are very religious so they tell us more than once how it is wrong for one man to lie with another. I wonder how it can be wrong to love someone so much that on first meeting you can do no less than share your very being with that person. I look at Thomas who is crying, waiting for something to end this but we remain silent while my parents preach to us about what true love is. Love, in their eyes, is a man and a woman coming together in marriage. Their meaning for love, such a narrow meaning for such a powerful word, leaves me empty on the inside. I think how easy it would be, how easy it could be, to say that I am in love with some girl but lies fail me.

My parents tell Thomas to go home. They forbid us to see each other. They tell me to go to my room. I go and stay in bed waiting for my vacation from school to end. Days become blurs of tears as I lay in bed trying to hold onto the memory of that day. In short-lived moments of clarity I can feel him next to me as if he never left.

I try to read as the rain pours steadily outside my window.  I listen to the wind breathing outside, as if some sickly creature gasps it howls. I watch the stars, through the rain, and I wish a simple dream I say it softly aloud as if some person near me could grant such a wish. I close my eyes with hopes so grand that I begin to doubt my very dreams.

A dream takes shape in my head and the things of this world fades. I dream of Thomas and I dream of that day: I dream of his body, every inch in such vivid detail, and I dream of our bodies merging to form one. I could remain in these dreams when I wake.

There’s a knock at my door and I open my eyes to find Thomas standing in its threshold. He sits on the edge of the bed as I wait for my parents to discover him. Thomas stands and places a suitcase on the dresser. I want to question his presence but I fear the answers.

My mom appears at the door. I sit up in bed expecting her to tell Thomas to leave or something to that effect, but she doesn’t. She closes the door behind her as Thomas tells me that he is here to stay. I make room for him in bed as he undresses. I think back to so many dreams and I realize that this goes beyond any dream that I have dreamt.

The rain stops and the stars shine through as our bodies join beneath covers deep. I don’t understand why my parents allowed this but I do not question a dream come true.