I watched as she floated off to pull her surprise for me from her refrigerator.
As ever, I marvelled at how lightly she moved.
She hesitated as the door came to rest on her slender hip, and, thinking better of her course-of-action, she let the door squish shut as she went and plucked two spoons from the drawer.
My eyes traced the lip of her jeans around her. A thin band of skin pulling the material tightly across her left hipbone caused her right back pocket to try and reach her right hip, a sort of equanimous dance that my eyes had intruded upon.
She flurried back toward the fridge, giving me a sly smile over her shoulder. Her blonde hair swept around her cerulean blue top, and I felt my shoulders burning with the intense heat of the tremendous love that I felt for her.
She retrieved the ice cream from the fridge and brought the set back to the floral-patterned couch where she’d left me waiting.
There was a storm always around her and her scent swirled with her hair and her eyes rained on me like I was a barren field and they were the only thing that could make me green, again.
I felt that green blossoming behind my eyelids when I slipped them closed for just a moment.
I opened them again, finding her cool, verdant eyes studying me.
She slid one of the spoons into her back pocket, smiling, and removed the cover of the ice cream, skimming a thin layer off of the top with the other spoon.
She always eats things in small bites.
“What is it,” I asked.
“Raspberry Dark Truffle Ice Cream.”
As the spoon slid into my mouth, I closed my eyes.
It tasted of a runaway summer. Bedewed, twilight soaked grass and the scent of bug-spray rushed back into my nostrils. The sky relit with explosions of light–all of which had been largely lost on me, even at the time, seated as we had been on our lawn towel–I had always been more interested in the explosion lying next to me.
She was twisting her brown hair in her fingers as she looked far away from me, already bound for somewhere else and for someone new, though I hadn’t known it, yet.
She had been mine for such a small portion of the time that she had held my thoughts, and yet she still reminds me of the spray released when waves break themselves on ancient rocks.
The soft salt air draped itself around my shoulders.
I felt my hand pressed up against a waffle cone, sharing her favorite treat with her.
My eyes slid open, again. The ice cream cooled my throat during its descent.
I turned away from her expectant smile, and I heard myself tell her:
“It’s not my favorite, but it’s pretty good. Thanks for letting me try it.”
I followed the floral pattern with my finger and kept my eyes down turned, as if enraptured by my tracing.
“You’re crazy,” she said, “how can you not love it?”
“Oh, I do,” I managed, ashamed.
She taught me to cherish you, I thought to say.
A distant tree exploded in a conflagration of pent up sorrow; the pit of my stomach roiled.
She gazed at me with a puzzled expression, hooking a tuft of blonde hair behind her ear.
“How can you love something and also not,” she asked.
“I wish I knew,” I whispered.