Cradle Lake
We saw all through amber gauze, which blurred lines of shapes, and of realities. Cicadas hummed from the trees; a lulling static song that buzzed like the adrenaline in my veins. Even now I have never felt less judged, never freer, never more at peace.
Our bronzed torsos stood bare above the surface of the water, glistening with the drying dew that still clung to our skin from the swim. It ran as tears down his back, and across the wasp sting from the previous day’s hike. I had thought him so brave for not crying. Every few moments he would reach round and scratch the place with a wince. “Don’t touch it,” I had said with a splash. The fresh drops upon his shoulders like beads of crystal shone in the light of the intensifying sun. I watched them evaporate from the angry wound, which I so desperately wanted to soothe.
I had only wanted to make it better, and for him to want me to. It wasn’t until I pulled my lips from his skin that I truly realized what I had done. Awkward, I shifted my feet in the sand beneath the waves.
“You shouldn’t do that,” he finally said.
I sank my head to escape, straining to see my toes at the bottom of the water. “Sorry.” The sound of campers laughing passed behind us down the beach. He looked up from my face to watch them disappear before the silence drown us both.
I hadn’t expected his hands, warm despite the stifling August heat. They grasped my shoulders and urged me to face him. He didn’t say a word, only pulled me against him, my head upon his chest, his arms cradling my soul.
It may have been the first day that I believed in love; a concept tossed about throughout my youngest years, but always challenged by behavior. Like dad, who seemed fond of the word but left us anyway. But the thing I felt then did not at all resemble the obligatory notion I’d encountered at home. It was as though I had become better – undergone a strange metamorphosis that rendered me complete. In his arms was clarity, and there I was content.
A fire was lit inside me as his chin caressed my face, and my skin erupted when his timid mouth approached my own. There was no space to separate us, and still the whole of the universe hung suspended between our lips. Eternity passed within that moment. Suns and dependent civilizations were born and died, but no time had passed at all. Time was just an illusion created by men in suits. And then it was over.
I was thrust from him, disoriented by the spots in my eyes the sun had made. Tiny tidal waves rushed behind me as I fell into the water’s arms and watched him recover from the moment, facing the beach and waving at our counselor.
“Guys, come on, it’s almost time for chapel!” He ran as fast as the lake would allow, the water jumping up and nipping at his jaw. I was hurt by his shame. My eyes clung to the red welt on his back as he fled, imagining my lips were still there. He was to the beach before I could stand. “You too, Calvin!”
I’ve searched my whole life for that fleeting peace; the one they would call abominable, the one they say he hates. But hate was never a part of it. Love does not even recognize the word.
Carolynn Staib, 2012 - cftaib@gmail.com
