Irrational Fears

In the pitch darkness, with no clouds to mask it, the moon shone large and yellow just above the horizon, and the stars glimmered overhead, countless lifetimes away from where I lie sprawled out in the grass atop the hill behind my grandparents' farm. Fireflies danced at my feet, but their soft glow was no match for the spheres of light that frolicked in the heavens.

Has there ever been anything more beautiful than a clear night sky?

I smiled blissfully to myself and closed my eyes as I started to nod off, thinking, How could this get any better?

A familiar song began to echo through the night. I fished my phone out of my pocket and propped up on one elbow to read the text before I turned my phone off and went to sleep.

The sender was a number I couldn't put a name nor a face to. Their message read:

Where are you?

Without bothering to find out who it was--since they had my number, I imagined I knew them--I quickly replied:

Hmmm... well here's a hint. it's 1 in the morning. any guesses?

Then I turned off my phone, curled up in the soft grass, and slept.

My eyes opened when I began to get the feeling I wasn't alone. I sat up and listened as attentively as I could. Someone's footsteps rustled slowly but consistently through the grass. My heartbeat quickened, though I knew it had to be one of my grandparents, most likely coming to first tell me that I ought to sleep somewhere wild animals couldn't attack me, and then to drag me back inside when I continued to argue. Every night since I got to the farm six days ago, I found a new place outside to sleep, and every night, I was discovered. It struck me as odd that my grandparents, who had lived here all their lives, were afraid of the creatures that roamed at night, when I, a city girl who had never even been camping without a cabin, adored them. Of course, they probably thought it strange that I, a city girl, was afraid of people.

Slowly, the figure appeared, and I was surprised to find it was neither of my grandparents. He looked down at me, a friendly smile on his face. It wasn't until then that I realized that the person who had been looking for me before had, despite my sarcasm, found me.

"Hello, Crystal," he greeted me, stepping a little closer.

"Hi," I replied in a small voice, not addressing him by his name as I seemed to have forgotten it. I remembered him though; I had met him on my first night here, at some weird hick fourth-of-July celebration. The whole county got together every year, and my grandparents were so into it that they wouldn't even stay home to have dinner with my dad and me the night we arrived. So Dad drove off, and my grandparents dragged me to their party. It wasn't long after that I escaped and went to sit alone in a tree, but as I was climbing it, I noticed that there was already someone in it. I apologized and tried to go, but he took my hand and helped me onto the branch with him. We talked for hours, about country life, city life, family, friends, and when the ruckus started to die down, we went back. Before I left, I had written my phone number on his hand, but I hadn't been expecting to hear from him. Yet here he was, standing over me, and I couldn't even think of his damn name.

"Gabe," he reminded me, appearing unbothered that I hadn't remembered.

"I know," I said unconvincingly.

He smiled, seeing through my lie. "It's okay. After all, what's in a name?" He sat down next to me in the grass.

After a few seconds of saying nothing, our silence filled with the chipper chirps of crickets, I asked, "So how did you know I was out here?"

"It was a simple matter of deduction," he shrugged. When I raised an eyebrow, he elaborated. "Well, for one, I knew you weren't in there." He pointed to the farmhouse. "You may be from the city, but I can tell that you don't like to spend a lot of time indoors."

"Try explaining that to my grandparents," I muttered.

"You can't explain anything to grandparents," Gabe retorted. "They're long since set in their ways. Believe me, I know what it's like to have a family that doesn't understand you."

"It's not like this back home," I said. "In some ways, I can't wait to go back, but at the same time, I want to stay all summer. I'll really miss this place."

Again the crickets filled the silence and the fireflies filled the darkness. A sudden breeze chilled the back of my neck, making the small hairs stand on end. As if sensing this, Gabe moved closer.

"You're so lucky," I said suddenly, looking up to admire the sky once more, the heavenly bodies uncompromised by skyscrapers and city lights.

Gabe turned to look at me. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you get all this," I began, gesturing to the open air, "and I get bricks and glass and steel. It's not fair."

"I think you're luckier," he said. "Nature is nice, but it's little use for conversation. I'd trade all of country life for someone to talk to once in a while."

"No," I whispered, looking out into the distance. "One of the weirdest lessons you learn from growing up in the city is that it's possible to be surrounded by people and still feel totally alone."

"That may be true," Gabe shrugged, "but it's a lot less possible to be alone and feel surrounded by people."

"You're right," I sighed. "I can see how the charms of this place might wear off after a while of having no one to share them with." Without thought, I brushed my hand against Gabe's, and he grasped it delicately. Drowsiness overcame me once more and my head came to rest against Gabe's shoulder. My eyes closed, helping to tune out the world around me as my body surrendered to sleep.

"Yes," Gabe whispered, so quietly that I wouldn't have heard had my ear not been so near his lips. "It's a waste of beauty for only one man to appreciate it. But, if only for tonight, we make it mean everything."

Fingertips touched my cheek just barely and began to glide carefully toward my chin. My eyelids fluttered open as I felt my jaw lifting. I barely to had time to process reality before I was thrust into a whole other land of make-believe.

There had been no fireworks on the fourth from the old and uneducated folk of this humble town, but on July tenth, I experienced a kiss whose sparks mesmerized me in ways I would never have imagined.

'Twas a night to remember.

For it all went downhill from there.