Take My Hand

I don’t think she sees me.

Ever walked in on something and immediately known it’s supposed to be private? That you’re intruding? I’m not talking about surprising someone coming out of the shower, or accidentally walking into something spicy after your roommate forgot to hang a sock on the door. Those are obviously situations where you’re clearly not wanted or expected.

No, I’m talking about when you stumble across someone doing something perfectly normal, like singing along to the radio or twirling in front of the mirror, but still get the feeling that you’ve blundered into something private. You freeze and feel embarrassed without knowing exactly why, and you’re lucky if both of you back away with your dignity intact.

That’s what I’m looking at now, except she hasn’t noticed me yet. She’s just lying there on the grass in the middle of the clearing, not even a blanket underneath her, nodding her head slowly to the music snaking up the little white wires into her headphones. Her eyes are closed and her lips are half-open, mouthing lyrics like a prayer to the sunlight. She’s blonde and barefoot as the summertime and two buttons down on a five button shirt. Her fingers tangle in the grass and tap single seeds from the dandelions, sending them aloft in time to the music.

I watch them rise on the lazy breeze, until they catch the light just right, and for a moment it looks like she’s surrounded by stars. She smiles with lips shaped for strawberries, and even though her eyes are closed I swear she knows what just happened too.

I should say something. I really should.

I start to speak but I’m stuck in place by that feeling of trespassing, not quite able to step out from the shade of the trees and into the sunlight. I was just crossing through the woods at the back of the campus, heading to Scott’s place for a late semester backyard barbecue. Nobody ever walks this way and my car is parked right outside my building anyway, but I just couldn’t resist, even in the heat. The day’s so beautiful I don’t mind taking a little extra time to enjoy it, and besides, I’m not really in a hurry to see Beth right now. Especially at Scott’s.

I snap back to the moment. I know the longer that I hang around the creepier it’ll seem if she notices me, but I don’t want to just walk up and scare her either. And if I head in another direction and she notices that, it’ll probably freak her out even worse. But if I talk to her, I’ll have to talk to her, and what’ll I say? I run through a couple dozen introductions and reject them all for sounding either too creepy, too porno or just plain sad.

I’m going to walk away. I should walk away, and if she sees me and freaks out, I’ll just tell her I’m sorry I bothered her. I know it’s the wrong choice but what other kind do you make when you fall in love? As soon as I think it, I know it’s true. I don’t even know her – she’s just a girl in a circle of sunlight – but I’m in love. I want to lie down in the dandelions, close my eyes against the sunshine and listen to her sing softly along to her music.

I don’t even need to know the words.

I won’t even care.

This is crazy. I can’t do this. Frustrated, I kick over a toadstool, watch the cap roll away and get lost in the grass. Just like that, still not looking up – not even opening her eyes – she very casually stretches one arm out and lays it down, palm up and open, fingers outstretched. She smiles a contented little half-smile you never see at night, the kind you only get under blue skies, and though she never says the words I hear the request like my pulse in my ears.

I look back through the trees, think about campus and Scott and Beth and everyone I’ve ever known, and with just that backward glance I step out into the circle. It’s hot in the daylight, but it’s the kind of heat that seeps into your bones like too much wine and reminds you why it’s so good to be warm and alive under the sun.

I lie back, close my eyes and take her outstretched hand. Her skin is soft and scented like wildflower petals, and her grip is welcoming, like a homecoming hug. I can hear the music and realize that I know the words; I’ve known them all along. I feel the grass embracing me. Without opening my eyes, I know the dandelions are floating above us, that they’re catching the light and shining like stars. I know I’m smiling.

She says we’re in the Summerland now, according to the pact; that I’m hers and she’ll sing to me forever, if only I will let her. I hear the music through the trees carried on a warm summer breeze, and the sound of laughter far away. She whispers to me she’s been waiting, and asks me if I’ll stay.

I squeeze her hand and tell her I’m never going back.