From Me to You [Complete]

4

Michael and I are sitting down on the sand with his towel spread over our legs. After making it to the beach, we talked until Michael found a comfortable place to sit that blocked a fair amount of the cool wind. The air is growing steadily colder around us, and I snuggle closer to him. He puts his arm around my waist and gazes out across the expanse of water in front of us. I hope he doesn't take that arm away anytime soon.

"Michael..." He turns his head towards me. "Thanks for coming out here, you know? Thanks a lot."

"Anytime," he answers, and I smile because I don't know what to say.

Michael and I snuggle closer together. His arm is so tight around me, and I can't help but giggle –who knew this would happen when I snuck into his room tonight? He looks at me fondly. I don't know what to do so I drop my eyes to fiddle with the towel. It feels rough and soft at the same time, and as I puzzle that out, Michael talks to me.

"You know, sometimes André and I come out here. Sneak out here really. When everyone else is occupied making dinner, or... Well, we just avoid working as much as possible." Michael smirks slightly, then falls back onto the sand. I look at him for a second in amazement that he is there, before lying down softly beside him. "We find a good spot to sit and enjoy the sunset. I can always count on the beach to be a beach, you know? The sand is always rough, and the water is always a little bit cold. People walk along the shore, playing fetch with their dog. It's like being in a different world. One where nothing ever changes." I crinkle my eyebrows, feeling like I sort of understand, and also feeling a little unsure. Did I just intrude on his private place by bringing him out here? "There was this time André tried to dunk me. A long time ago, when he was home more often." I don't know what to say. Michael stares at the stars. "It's harder to sneak out on my own," he says with a small laugh. "Now that André is off conquering the world and all." He pauses. I feel privileged to hear this information, which I never even heard in his letters. "Someday I'll get there too," he says with confidence. "Maybe out there in space. Somewhere André hasn't been just yet." He nods at the sky, where the stars twinkle.

I take a deep breath. "Yea," I say, feeling stupid and immature next to him. I tug at a stray piece of my hair behind my ear. Looking up at the stars, I find the Big Dipper directly above us. Suddenly I have something to say. "How do you find the Little Dipper?" I ask him, "Something to do with the handle of the Big Dipper, right?"

"Oh," Michael says, pointing at the sky, "you find the two little stars on the lower side of the spoon on the Big Dipper and look about four lengths that distance away from it... Making the Little Dipper...there," he points to a group of stars high in the sky overhead. I squint, and see the Little Dipper. Opening my eyes fully, I count to four and see that the stars really are about four spoon lengths away. I sigh, and prop my head to look at him.

"Ever wonder what it would be like to be a star?" I ask, and he laughs.

"You mean burning and exploding?" He continues to laugh –but I think he's only teasing. He props his head in his hand, almost like he's mocking me, and looks me straight in the eyes.

I take a deep breath, trying to smile, and not show my nervousness. "No... I mean, like, what would it be like to be something else? Not human, not really alive." I see him open his mouth to speak and realize stars must, in some way, be considered alive. "Like not here on earth," I add quickly.

"Oh," Michael shuts his mouth and stares past me. "Well... It would probably be pretty cold out there." He pauses, and then says slowly, falling back onto the sand, "Besides, you wouldn't be there, so it would be pretty lame."

"Yea, super lame," I say, with a small laugh. I fall back onto the sand, biting my lip, trying to think of something clever to say. Sometimes Michael's letters are just a discussion of existentialism, or philosophy that is way over my head. And sometimes, he will say these lines, about me, or him, or how much he likes writing to me, or having me there to listen –I wish I had the guts to say things like that back.

"It's a good thing I'm not a star then," he says, laughing slightly.

"Yea," I agree. "A really good thing." I breathe deeply, closing my eyes. Michael's arm settles around my shoulders and I lean into it, wondering what he is thinking about. Because all I can think about is how much I don't want this to end, how much I want his arm to stay there forever.