David picked at a blade of grass and softly ran it down the length of my arm sending shivers down my spine. Side by side we stretched out on the lawn and soaked up these beautiful moments of tranquility. My curls lifted with the rising winds; his eyes followed the movement of a flock of birds just overhead.
It was a mild Tuesday evening in the summer of 2010 and I didn’t have a care in the world. Finally I was shedding my past. David’s presence helped me forget the great heartache of 2009, the smell of Jackson in the sheets, and the cool autumn months of melancholy.
I was here. It was now. And I was happy.
Sadly, our union was doomed from the start. David wasn’t baggage free and I was selfish. It was easy to get lost in his blue eyes and melt at the way he called me Lotti. But when we parted, I would forget these moments ever existed. I had to. Couldn’t get too attached.
Not when I knew he had someone to go home to.
What I was doing was awful, inexcusable, and completely out of character. It was also wildly exciting, sexy, and liberating. I excused my transgressions by convincing myself that I deserved these fleeting moments of happiness.
That May, we’d meet on our lunch breaks to discuss life’s minutiae. He surprised me one day with a Tori Amos comic book I’d secretly been drooling over for years, telling me it was a belated birthday present. When June arrived, he would bring me elaborate vegetarian meals he had prepared and I took him to his first Phish show. In July he wrote me love letters, sent flowers to my office, and we went out on our very first official date.
I remember vividly the time we took things too far and stumbled awkwardly in the dimly lit bedroom of my apartment. And how much I wanted him out once it was all over. That night I rolled over, glanced at the used condom in the wastebasket, and thought of the many travel destinations I hadn’t yet been to, promising myself a trip when I could scrape some cash together. It wasn’t that I didn’t like David’s company; I was crazy about him. But the girlfriend on the other end of his commute reminded me of the impermanence of our liaison.
Our late nights and lies eventually came to an end when guilt threatened my sanity later that August.
Every now and then I’m reminded of the cool, damp grass under my body and the soft scent of David’s cologne.
We watched the world pass by that summer.
It is a season forever engraved in my memory as a time I let all reasoning fly out the window to taste what a summer fling felt like once again. All I wanted was to feel taken, at least for a little while.