"You've tanned," I notice. There is a line across your left arm where the bronzed skin meets the pale swath of you. I trace it in revery. You hum and your fingers spread over the towel beneath you.
I like to have you this way underneath me: free and open to my touch.
You open your mouth, "Yes. You've had me out here for so long I'm beginning to look like an islander."
"Next you'll start eating like one . . ." I joke. You have an English diet of soft foods with little seasoning. I've turned you onto grilled fish and grape leaves. You mumble something at my words, your eyes closed. You draw your arms and fold them above your head.
It's rare to see you at ease on this beach. Near us, a group of teenagers play a game with a ball. In the water, children scream and laugh, their parents talking nearby. I wonder if we will see anyone from your circles here -- those people you know only by face.
"If you were a flower," I ask aloud, "which would you be?"
You hum and answer without opening your eyes. "A sunflower. To rise with the day and die and collapse with time."
I dig a small hole in the white, soft sand and smile at your response. "Yes, you're a sunflower! You stand tall above the rest."
"And you?" You ask me, as you often do.
I tell you I would be the heather that grows in the English countryside. I could be steadfast beside you.
You make a noise of derision and reach for me. "You remind me of a sunflower."
"Then we could be sunflowers together, growing in a field." And immediately, I think of Van Gogh, whom I'm sure I would've loved in another life.
"Yes," you respond. "You have many ideas of what we could be."
"Of course. I imagine us in all iterations."
"Tell me some."
And so I start my story. I can picture us as crabs on the sea floor, feeding on the small scraps that come by. Or as a soldier and a seamstress, like Odysseus and Penelope. Or two artists, as we are now, but years before the Earth was full.
When I reach the end, your eyelids are low and heavy. You look at me from underneath them. "Which life would you like the best?"
I smile at the light curling your dark hair and reach to touch the spot above your ear. "That's easy. I like this life best."
"Is that so?" You tease. You lean to my touch. I travel the curve of your ear and displace the grains of sands that hide behind the lobe.
"Yes. This is the life with you, as you are, and as you will be."
There's a moment where no expression crosses your face, until your eyes wrinkle with a grin. You take my hand in yours. No words for me, just a strong squeeze of my fingers.
The sun makes me tired and loose. I resettle with you, curved into your body as you and I take the heat and sweat through it. Birds chirp above. A sea breeze tickles my nose.
For -Somebody_to_Love-
I hope you enjoy!