Gravity Rides Everything

Thunder rumbled through the house, shaking and trembling the outside world. The faint sound of a dog’s bark could be heard. The neighbor’s Schnauzer had always been terrified of thunderstorms. Whenever lightning struck, it painted the skies with yellows and whites, illuminating the clouds. She watched through the window, holding the curtain aside with thin fingers. Rain pounded on the roof, and the heavy metallic noises from the front door made beautiful music. She waited.

Hardly a car would drive down the road. It was obvious; the rain was pounding so hard, it was no doubt that the road would flood. But, she still anticipated, waiting. Waiting for anything, anyone. When minutes turned to hours, a red car parked at the end of the front walkway. For a long moment, no one got out. The rain had started to clear when a young man stepped out of the little red car, pushing his dark brown hair out of the ocean depths of his blue eyes. She watched him walk; each step heavy with guilt, most likely.

She rose, opening the door before he could knock. He caught her gaze, holding it. The corners of his mouth turned downward. “I’m sorry.” Almost inaudible. He held his hand forward, fingers stretched out, reaching for hers. She stared at it, contemplating.
“You’re late,” she said. Her voice was weak. She took his hand, letting him envelop her fingers with his. The warmth spread goose bumps up her arm, making her shiver.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she struggled to keep them open. She concentrated on his face, every feature that she loved most about it. The stubble that grew faintly on his chin and cheeks, the pale complexion that managed to stay clear all through his pubescent years. His blue eyes, dark with insomnia. Guilt was scrawled across them.

“May I kiss you?” He asked, closing in the space between their bodies. She lifted her chin, turning her head to the side. He pressed his thin lips to her pulse, her favorite spot. She rested her head on his shoulder, sliding her arms around his waist. She pulled him tight, taking deep breaths, clutching his white shirt. She listened to the air fill his lungs, the pumping of his blood. “There wasn’t a day where I didn’t think about you,” he whispered, twirling her brown curls between his fingers.

Pressed his mouth against her neck again.

She lifted her head off of his shoulder, and looking him in the eye, said, “I have something for you.”

She led him quietly to her bedroom, where nothing had changed since he could remember. “Stay,” she said. She smiled weakly at him, and removed a box from the closet next to the door. She opened it, and pulled out a stack of envelopes. They had been kept together by an old rubber band. She handed them to him, her face solemn. He held them gently, looking at them, the worn paper that he knew had been boxed up for longer than a year. “I wrote letters to you every day for a year.”

He looked at her. The intensity in her voice was frightening. “Every day,” he mimicked, flipping them one after the other, like a picture book. Sure enough, there were three hundred and sixty-five letters.

“I missed you,” she said. “It hurt when you left.” He looked at her, frowning. She continued, “my sisters were worried when you left. They thought I was going to hurt myself.”

He stepped forward so that he stood less than a foot away. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was weak, a whisper.

“Why did you leave?” Her eyes threatened to leak tears.

“I had to find myself,” he said. “It was really important to me.”

“You were really important to me.” Her voice cracked. “You were so important to me, and you disappeared.” She lost the battle, and tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. “I was so afraid something horrible had happened to you.”

He let a gentle sigh out. Softly, softly, softly, he said, “I’m alright, Sarah. I promise.” He kissed her forehead, her cheeks. With his thumb he wiped her tears away.

“I just can’t … comprehend why.” She gently pushed him away, preventing him from kissing her again. “Darren … how could you have done that to me?” She searched his eyes for an answer, but found nothing.

“I didn’t intend to.” The sunlight that peeked through the curtains lit up his face. “It was on impulse. I went with my guts, Sarah.”

Darren held his hand forward, fingers outstretched. She took it cautiously. “I won’t ever understand, will I?” She asked. He shook his head. “Just as long as you don’t ever leave again.” She kissed him hard, fingers tugging through his dark curls. He wrapped his arms around her, tightly holding her against him. Her emotions took over, and she began to sob. The tears dripped from her cheeks. Her knees quaked, and she collapsed on the floor. She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing the long locks out of her face. She was embarrassed, and hid her face from him. Her sobs became uncontrollable.

He kneeled down in front of her, and pulled her hands away. “It’s alright, Sarah,” he said. “I’m here now.” He helped her onto the bed, and lied next to her, giving her a sense of security. Delicately, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his forehead against hers. He remembered, this always made her feel better. He kissed her neck again, the pulse.

Heated breaths. Their legs tangled the sheets, entwined together. He kissed her collarbone, one hand firmly on her waist, the other softly caressing her hair, which flowed across the pillow like a river. Her eyes were closed, but she was far from asleep. He lied next to her, deep breaths soothing her. “Sarah?” He brushed the tip of his index finger across her cheek.

“Hmm?” Her eyes fluttered open, revealing the bright emerald green that he loved.

“I love you.” He kissed her mouth.

“I love you, too,” she replied, smiling. They exchanged body heat, their naked bodies warming each other. His hands explored her, investigating every inch of her body. Gently, gently, gently, he kissed her, her shoulders, neck, chest. It was static.

When she awoke, it was five o’clock in the morning. He still lied next to her, his arm resting on the curve of her waist. She turned so that she faced him, fitting her head underneath his chin so that it was comfortable. She tried to be careful as she moved his arm, but a quiet groan escaped his lips. She looked at him, and smiled when she saw he was awake. Kissing his lips, softly, gently, she pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Good morning,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Hi.” Taking a deep breath, he turned to lie on his back. She watched his chest rise, deflate, rise, deflate. The scar that ran across the left side looked just the same as it had two years ago. She traced her fingers along it, caressing the delicate skin. He looked at her, his eyes still tired with sleep. She smiled, and kissed the scar. His chest was smooth, devoid of hair. Sarah then kissed the corner of his mouth, resting her head on her pillow.

There was no reason for conversation. The words they wanted to share could be shared with their actions. It was a comfortable silence that had fallen upon them. They listened to each other’s breathing, the crisp morning air filling their lungs as it filled her bedroom through the open window. The sound of birds chirping, cars zooming and the quiet chatter of early morning runners could be heard.

Society had started another day, but Darren and Sarah ignored it.