Chapter 4
THE BEACH
My cheeks burned when I left the house moments later out the back door, naked as a mythical siren except for my shoes.
The sky half-blinded me with its intensity of sun and sky, and the forecast promised us a hot afternoon with only a few clouds scattered in the distance.
This didn’t feel anything like our previous dips together.
Aster insisted that I enter the beach without clothes—so that they wouldn’t get dirty, he said—but I believed he made the suggestion because he enjoyed looking at me, and he wanted to see my body in every light possible.
I couldn’t believe he could be so direct about it, but I loved his mischievous intent.
I slipped on a pair of worn leather flip-flops before stepping out the glass door, with Aster behind me.
The porch was painted a shade of dark blue, peeling in places from wear, decked with a set of stairs leading down to a strip of overgrowth that barred the narrow distance between the lighthouse and the water.
The overgrowth consisted of tall wild grasses dotted with patches of white, lily-like flowers on the side nearer the house.
On the right was the garden, overgrown and blocked off from easy access through a worn picket fence.
On the left was only empty beach and the start of a wooded section with a path, a familiar sight by now but still unexplored.
I scanned the beach first, wary of boats in viewing distance or tourists who had followed the beach too far, and then my gaze rose to the skies. “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I said. “Someone will come out here. Someone will see us. And you’re still fully clothed.”
Aster unfastened his top button. Is this better?
“That doesn’t even count,” I said. “I’m holding up my end of the deal. Can’t I ask the same of you?”
First, I never said I’d come here unclothed. I met my end of the deal. Second, I thought I could give these clothes a wash, he said with a cheeky smile, sliding the door shut behind him as he joined me on the porch.
There was no breeze, so the waves breaking the ocean looked calmer than usual under the growing blaze of the sun.
“I need to go back,” I said. “I didn’t put on any sunblock. My skin will burn to a crisp out here.”
I don’t think so, said Aster.
I turned. “You don’t?”
He shrugged and meandered to the front of the porch, where he rested his hands on the ragged wooden railing. You’re too beautiful for the sun to spoil. As far as I’m concerned, at least. But we’re not going to be here all day, Stella. This is just for your morning bath.
I didn’t question him further but walked past the green, past the bold white flowers and the unmowed blades of wild grass to the beach on the other side. The first, closer stretch of beach had too many rocks to brave barefoot, but beyond that the sand became finer and more luxuriant.
Aster followed me until he stood barefoot beside me on the beach. He stepped into the water and waded forward until the bottom rims of his pants were wet. Come on. The water’s warm.
I soon learned that Aster had lied about the temperature. The water was ice cold, as I should have expected coming from a body as great as the Atlantic Ocean. As soon as one wave lapped at my toes, I grew rigid and my heart skipped a beat.
“This isn’t warm. This is freezing!” I protested.
Aster frowned and looked at the waves lapping around his ankles. The sand sparkled in the sun, fine and unspoiled by the day. He stepped forward, deeper, and took a breath. It’s warm over here. Come closer to me, Stella.
I caught the tease in his voice. Aster wanted to try something on me, but as I walked forward I noticed that the chill of the water didn’t bother me as much as I neared him.
See what I mean? he asked after a contented sigh. He waded forward until the water reached his knees, and then his hips. I turned my head and saw that already we had strayed a surprising distance from the beach. Again I wondered if someone would come out and see us.
Then Aster tapped my arm. Stella. You’re not doing it right. This is supposed to be a bath, not a stroll through the Garden of Eden.
Before I uttered a word of response, he reached forward and pushed me into the water with a single strong heave.
I gasped. A splash of saltwater entered my mouth as my head hit the water, and I spat it out while I oriented myself and anchored my feet more solidly on the shifting sands beneath.
The water was warmer than the patch I’d first stepped into, but still cold and swirling with sand everywhere I turned.
When I looked up, the sun glowed right behind Aster like a convenient halo, so I couldn’t make out the features of his face.
I squinted and wiped water from my eyes.
It didn’t feel as cold now as it had a few seconds earlier.
I crouched until I could swim, switching to doggy style and wondering what Aster’s next move would be.
I could see only his torso from this angle. The water went up to his belt almost perfectly. He extended a hand to me. That’s enough, now. Can I help you up?
“Please do.”
I took his hand, and then I twisted it as hard as I could until Aster lost his footing and collapsed next to me.
He laughed. That’s not fair. Why didn’t you play along?
“This is perfectly fair,” I argued. “And if I’m going to be out here naked as Lady Godiva, then so are you.”
I pulled his shirt buttons loose and then pulled the sleeves from around his arms. Then I threw the shirt out to sea.
What are you doing? he asked, perplexed and covering the light hairs on his chest.
I shot him a saucy grin. “Just making things even between us,” I said, starting on his pants and pulling them down. He was already swollen and waiting for me.
Aster flicked some water from his hair. He lowered himself into the water and floated easily on his back. I joined him, and he grabbed onto my hand and squeezed it. You know what we need? he asked.
“What’s that?”
He sobered. Structure. If we don’t set up a few ground rules, we might lose ourselves.
The following night we dined on more wine and bread; and here, at our shared insistence, we decided on the new rules. I’d picked up a charcuterie tray from the downtown deli and paired it with a large cluster of red grapes. Aster produced the wine.
We’d spent too much of the day naked. Both of us were slightly burned, slightly tanned, and I was awed at how comely Aster looked with a sun-kissed tint to his natural alabaster.
Now there was nothing ghostly or unnatural about his appearance at all.
He was ruddy. Strong. His shoulders and arms had filled out since our first star-struck encounter, and his jaw had widened more masculine dimensions. Even his hair looked darker.
“I just can’t believe it,” I said.
Can’t believe what?
“This.” I scooted forward and leaned over the dining table. “You.”
Aster glanced down at himself and then looked over the table to me. When I first saw you, I worried I’d never get you out of your funk. Ambition is a terrible thing, Stella. You’re better as a person than as an automaton, as a writing machine.
I swallowed. “But that’s what I wanted to talk about,” I said. “It’s July now. My time at Illumination Point is half up and I don’t have a page to show. I wasn’t sent here for a vacation and time at the beach, you know. Even if it’s been magical.”
You want to talk about the book?
I took a breath. “Yes. I want to talk about the book.”
It’s just as I said earlier, said Aster.
We need rules. Not the old rules, not conventions.
Nothing that would choke us out. But constraints to bolster the rest of the work.
He reached forward and shifted the position of the tray in front of him to a more aesthetic angle, taking a water cracker from one of the slots to even out the number of each variety of crackers on the tray.
“So where should we start?” I asked. I considered running to the other room to grab my laptop. I’d learned long ago that I couldn’t trust my memory to keep notes on important matters like this.
Aster bit the cracker. Then his face froze. He lowered the humble wafer and looked at it in surprise. That’s funny. I… He didn’t complete the thought but continued to stare at the cracker.
“You what?” I prodded. I relaxed in my seat.
I tasted it that time.
This was my first instance hearing that Aster had been incapable of taste, and for a moment I sat there in matching surprise.
He took a second bite, paused, and then ate the rest of the cracker.
“I didn’t know you couldn’t taste,” I said.
He shook his head. I can’t. Not the same way you can, at least. It must have been a fluke. It’s all normal now.
I took one of the crackers myself and ate it in three bites, wondering what more I didn’t know about him.
After a few more bites in silence, Aster brought the conversation back to the topic of rules. You would do exquisitely under my instruction. But you know I can’t impose any sort of authority over you. That would ruin everything. Still—I need you. More of you. All of you.
“You already have everything I’ve got to give,” I said, blushing at the thought of our encounter on the beach.
I don’t need your body. I need your brain and its ideas. I need your past. Your future. The photons of you that travel time and space. He picked up his glass of wine and raised it to me as if he wanted to make a toast. I need your totality.
My skin prickled. “You have it,” I said.
His eyes narrowed. I need exclusivity. I don’t want you to communicate with anyone else while we’re here. Not unless I tell you to.
“Done,” I said, suddenly freed from a number of petty anxieties. Given my habitual loneliness, Aster’s request hardly counted as a sacrifice at all.
This also means I don’t want to hear your fears, he said. No—I mean, you can’t have fears. You leave that to me. You need only confidence, and you’re half there already.
“I feel better already,” I said honestly.
Aster sipped from his wine. The stars in his eyes gleamed with a plan, or not so much with a plan as with a hope of a prize he believed to be within his reach.
I need you to give this project everything you have. Don’t withhold anything, he said.
I took a breath. “I will. Gladly. But only if you can tell me what to do, which direction to face…” I cut myself off when I realized that I had lapsed into the fear he had just warned me about.
Aster held up a hand to silence me. We’re watching the sunrise together, you and me. Tomorrow. Wake up before dawn and find me down here.
“Consider it a plan,” I said, suddenly deriving a sense of romance in the idea of waking earlier than I felt comfortable.
This time of year, morning came early. While I wasn’t a night person, I didn’t like forcing myself to wake up in shrouded in the umbra of a dying night.
At least, I hadn’t used to. Now the thought sounded invigorating.
Watching the sunrise with Aster would spark my productivity for the entire day.
We’ll watch the sunrise every morning together from this point on, he continued, lacing his fingers together with enthusiasm.
The colors of the morning light would do you good.
And I expect you to get a lot of writing done.
Some in your book. Some in other projects.
We’ll see in the end which writing works better.
“I’m excited already,” I said.
Aster sipped from the wine again. This time he smacked his lips, and I wondered if he could taste that as well as the cracker.
This will be a good time for both of us, he said. Then he looked down at the wine.
“Can you taste that, too?” I asked.
He looked up at me, paused a moment, and then shook his head. No. It only seems to have a stronger texture than usual. I can taste the age of it.
“There’s nothing wrong, is there?” I pressed.
What would give you the idea?
I couldn’t tell if he was sarcastic or serious. “Tasting things,” I said. “Before that cracker, I didn’t know you couldn’t taste. You always suggest such good food.”
My senses are not like yours, he said.
“Or, they weren’t,” I suggested. “You’re changing.” I should have seen it. His darker skin, shorter hair, and even the way he walked more solidly on the ground all implied something.
At first Aster didn’t speak. His pressed his lips together and looked at the surface of the table near his plate. With one hand he grabbed the stem of a cluster of grapes and twisted it, slowly rotating the grapes over his plate.
“Do you know… what it means?” I asked.
It’s a good omen, said Aster. At least that’s how I see it. We’re forming an intimate bond here. I’ve learned to adopt some of your own experiences of the world, and I’ve tricked myself into imagining I can sense them as well.
“So it’s an illusion?”
I am prone to illusion. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be much of a muse.
He didn’t sound as if he believed in the statement, but rather like he wanted to make a fact out of it by repeating it to himself.
For the rest of the evening I avoided the topic of Aster’s changing nature. The only time he brought it up again to me was after the moon had reached its zenith, when we made love on my bed with the sheets thrown aside and the window open, curtains fluttering in the night breeze.
Aster leaned over me then. He kissed my forehead, kissed the tip of my nose, kissed my lips. And he told me that I had a beautiful taste.