The settle down

by raimperial

They both sat on an old and rustic wooden bench facing the setting sun, their windswept hairs glowing under cold carrot-coloured hues, their eyes faintly reflecting the culminating grey of the clouds and the endless sea of indigo above them; their slouched backs gently sinking beneath dark silhouettes, and their shadows longitudinally growing in length, as if eternally stretching themselves to find some other outlet, some unfamiliar space, some different brand of solace somewhere far away.

But those were the shadows, opaque and lifeless in their entirety. The afternoon, for the lack of a better word, was beautiful. She was at awe with the tree leaves falling gently; so much so that she began entertaining the idea that the air had numerous invisible hands that plucked out the leaves one by one from the tree branches, settling them down on the ground in graceful and lightweight fashion. She was amazed at how the nearby stream brought music to her ears with the sounds of running water; at how it eternally murmured a string of different words she could barely, if not at all, understand; at how those different words made themselves heard to the trees and the fishes and the grasses and the frogs and crickets and to her before heading further downstream. Minutes after swimming in her imaginations, she realizes a hand gently brushing her hair, running a thumb through her cheek, a few fingers down her neck, the smooth skin-to-skin friction working to get her senses back after going off on a tangent for a while. The masculine familiarity was so hard to bear, that she eventually turned around to look at him, the one who owned the hand that caressed her and pulled her consciousness away from her meandering thoughts.

He looked at her in the eye and glanced away into the horizon before them. He then examined the area like a refined soldier, quiet and meticulous, careful not to make a noise or move that would distort his present view, like he had a piece of sensitive and sophisticated radar equipment ensconced within his skull, scanning the vicinity with utter precision and, for some reason, preordained images of the future. There, will be the playground. Beside that, will be a small grass area for us to play with our kids and dogs. A few trees on the side, and a flower garden to add colour and vibrancy to the green backdrop. Here, in this plot of ground, will be the house. Probably don’t need a big garage. A basement here, it will be cool and cozy for work. Three bedrooms, one floor up. Living room, kitchen, and a small fireplace for the cold winter nights. And the bench – this bench – will stay here.

The images coagulated inside his mind into lego pieces, moving on their own free will, forming outlines of a prospect in life that he never thought would come into fruition. That he never even once dreamed of nor desired to have, for he was scared of commitment. He was afraid of failure. But that didn’t seem to matter somehow, right at that moment. Right where they sat together, hand in hand, dreaming of the future they could build – a house, a home – seemed all right in place. Like it was the only thing in the world that hasn’t been done, and thus had to be done accordingly so, you know, he thought, he could be with her. Be one with her. Forever.

This is it, he said. This is the place.

And before they knew it, the sky had already completely turned dark.