Complicated

chapter four

“So, where are we going?” I asked. I couldn’t see a thing. Connor had tied a blindfold over my eyes, and all I could see was blackness. It felt wonderful to have so much nothingness surrounding me, with Connor’s strong hands guiding me through the darkness and into the light.

      “It’s nowhere special,” he muttered. “Really.”

      I smiled, even though Connor probably couldn’t see me smiling. “You would say that. Where are we actually going?”

      “You’ll see soon,” he promised.

      He held my shoulders firmly as he guided me through the night. I wanted to walk like this forever, with Connor carefully leading me. I sniffed. It smelled like mud. I stood on something hard; it felt like a rock.

      “Where are you taking me?” I giggled girlishly.

      “Shh,” he hushed. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

      My hair flew back in the breeze. I felt plants brushing past my legs and laughed; it tickled.

      “We’re here,” said Connor, untying the blindfold and pulling it away.

      It was beautiful. Connor had led me to the lake, but it looked completely different. There was an exotic beaded mat laid out by the waters edge, with two candles flickering by the side. The moon was rippling on the water’s surface, and amid the water’s solid black reflection of the sky, little white stars winked. Somewhere out in the middle of the lake, a mother duck with her three tiny ducklings was quaking noisily, calling them to bed. I turned to Connor. He looked almost beautiful in the moonlight. I noticed he was holding an old wicker basket.

      “A picnic?” I queried.

      “Yes,” he paused. “Is that alright?”

      “Of course! I love picnics.”

      Connor took my hand and walked with me down the to mat. He placed the basket on the grass and opened it. I smiled down at the basket. A picnic was such a sweet idea. I adored picnics.

      “So, tell me why you like picnics so much?” asked Connor. He took a few sandwiches and two coke cans out of the bag.

      “My mum always takes me on picnics. She used to tell me stories about her and Dad. I love her stories. Every time I would learn something new; it makes me feel like I knew him.” I explained. Connor smiled understandingly.

      “Sandwich?” he offered. “I made them myself.”

      I took the sandwich from him and inspected it. There was too much butter and not enough ham, and the whole thing was cut in a funny shape. “They’re really . . .”

      “What? Rubbish?”                                                                         

      “No, I was going to say sweet.”

      He laughed. “That’s what I like about you.”

“That was . . . magical,” I smiled. Magical was the perfect word for that evening.

      Connor and I were laid out on the soft grass, staring at the winking stars. The grass felt like a soft blanket beneath me, and I wiggled my bare toes in the reeds by the river. I felt perfectly at peace with nature and love and life.

      “It’s cold,” muttered Connor. I noticed he was shivering, and suddenly felt bad. I’d been keeping him outside when it was so cold, and all he was wearing was a short sleeved top. I took my woolly cardi off and gave it too him.