37. Makenna
Makenna
I’m on a date with Malcolm. I’m. On. A. Date.
With. Malcolm. A door-opening, handholding, pull-my-chair-out-for-me date.
I wish I’d brought something cuter to wear.
I’m wearing my best jeans and the only nice top I brought.
The same outfit I’d been wearing when I met Malcolm.
I’d very much packed with hiking, and comfort in mind.
“I don’t know that they have gluten-free fish and chips here, but I hear they have homemade gluten-free pasta they cook safely,” Malcolm says, after we’ve taken our seats in the supposed best Italian restaurant in Scotland.
“Oh, really? That sounds amazing.”
Malcolm grins, clearly happy he’s pleased me. Man, he’s sweet.
“I called and asked questions about the safety; we just have to let them know.”
I feel tears prick my eyes. Stupid Ross acted like my celiac disease was the biggest inconvenience. To have Malcolm not only accept it, but actively help me, is such a big deal to me.
“Thank you.” It comes out as a whisper as emotion clogs my throat.
Malcolm reaches across the table, and I drop my menu, settling my hand in his. “I’m glad to help. I hate that you have to deal with this, so if I can take some of the hassle off your plate, I’m glad to do it.”
His thumb is lightly stroking the back of my hand as he turns back to his menu, and I’m just sitting here thinking we should share the spaghetti and have our very own Lady and the Tramp moment.
The candles on each table make every couple seem like they are in their own bubble in this dimly lit room. The room begs for romance. Handholding, whispered thoughts, and footsie hidden behind the tablecloths.
Malcolm certainly knows how to pick a restaurant.
“This place is great. Thank you for bringing me here,” I say, squeezing his hand.
“It is great.” He leans toward me, the candlelight flickering in his eyes. “But wait ’til you see what’s next.”
“When did you pack all this?” I ask as Malcolm pulls out blankets, and pillows, and … “A thermos? What’s in there?”
“I got ready for dinner a bit faster than you did. And this is hot chocolate. Do you like hot chocolate?”
“And they say there’s no such thing as a dumb question,” I joke.
I can barely make out Malcolm’s grin in the fading evening light. We’re standing in a Dark Sky Park. Malcolm’s surprise. I don’t know anything about it, but I’m with Malcolm, so I’m excited.
He closes the trunk, clicks on a flashlight, and leads us to the top of a small grassy hill, not far from the car. We spread out one blanket, then sit the other on top along with the pillows, and settle in.
“We’re here to see stars,” Malcolm says, leaning back on his hands.
“A Dark Sky Park is an area essentially free from light pollution, so as long as there aren’t a lot of clouds in the sky, we’ll be able to see a lot of stars.
The weather is good, and the moon is a crescent, so it should be ideal conditions. ”
“Will we be able to see the Milky Way? I saw it once briefly before clouds obscured our view. Mom and I were camping in the North Carolina mountains. I remember thinking how odd it was that we were in the Milky Way galaxy, but we could also see it.”
“Aye, I believe we should be able to see it, as well as our nearest neighbouring galaxy, Andromeda, although that one supposedly looks like a smudge, so we may not be able to pick it out.”
“We could bring some strong binoculars next time!” I whisper excitedly, because despite no one being around, I feel the need to be quiet.
“You’d like to come back here sometime?”
“Yes. I love space.”
He chuckles. “More or less than old things?”
“Isn’t space like the ultimate old thing?”
Malcolm grins. “I guess so.” He reaches for the thermos. “Should we have our hot chocolate before we lose all the light?”
“Sure.”
The sun is well past the horizon, so the light left isn’t quite enough. He sets the flashlight down to point at the thermos and pours some into the lid. “I meant to bring an extra cup but forgot. Do you mind sharing?”
Heck, no, I don’t mind sharing.
“That’s fine.”
I take a sip, and smile before passing it to Malcolm. He’s so thoughtful. There’s a chill in the air now, that makes the drink all the better.
He sips and passes it back to me. “My mam always made this on Saturday nights growing up. Summer, winter, it didny matter, we were having hot chocolate. In summer, we would sit outside, and in winter we’d sit by the hearth. Dad would read to us. We always had a novel going.”
Oh my gosh, his family is so stinkin’ sweet. “What’s the first one you remember?” I hold the cup in my hands to warm them, before taking a sip and passing it back.
“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It made a big impression. When we started that one, mom bought all sorts of sweets and set them out on our coffee table. I’ll never forget my dad saying, ‘Davina, how am I going to eat all these sweets while I’m reading?
’ And my sisters and I yelled, insisting it was all for us anyway. ”
“That’s so cute.”
I can no longer see Malcolm, but I know he’s smiling. “For the longest time I thought I’d grow up to own a chocolate factory.”
I laugh into the darkness, then notice the first star popping up just over Malcolm’s head. “There are worse things to aspire to.”
“Oh aye. I could have hoped to travel around in a giant peach.” He chuckles and clicks off the flashlight.
“I imagine that would get messy at some point. Traveling around in a past-ripe peach? No, thank you.”
Malcolm chuckles again. “I think it’s time for the show.” He leans back on his pillow, and I set our cup aside and follow suit, pulling the blanket on top of me.
“Do you want some of the blanket?”
“Sure.” He slides closer, his arm brushes mine as he settles in and we straighten the blanket over us.
It begins slowly, a star appearing here and there, but eventually, the sky is filled with more stars than I think I’ve seen in my lifetime.
It’s at the same time overwhelming, and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
The colors and swirls of what can only be our galaxy are mesmerizing, and I can’t open my eyes wide enough.
It’s art in the sky, like a sunset, only rarer to see. I can’t help but feel awe that the creator of the universe took the same time and care in creating me as he did the masterpiece above.
“This may be the best thing I’ve ever done,” I whisper.
Malcolm finds my hand under the blanket and takes it. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”
“Thank you for bringing me.” I let go of Malcolm’s hand and shift to my side. Feeling around in the dark I find his face and cup his cheek, then, feeling brave, I lean in and press a kiss on the other.
I’m leaning back, but Malcolm’s hand on my cheek stops me, drawing me back toward him.
“May I kiss you?” His voice is a soft rumble in the dark. Like thunder in the distance signaling the approach of something electric.
I swallow, and my heart threatens to fly out of my chest. Mild panic tries to take over. He’s probably kissed dozens of women. What if I don’t measure up? “It’s been a long time … it might be bad,” I whisper.
I hear a small groan in the dark, then a whispered, “It won’t be,” and his lips are on mine. He leans on his elbow to meet me, his hand sliding from my cheek, slowly across my neck, and into my hair.
This is, in every way, better than I could have ever imagined.
The movement of Malcolm’s lips and hand is slow and controlled, like he is studying.
Memorizing me and this moment. The thought thrills me and sends a rush of excitement through me.
My kisses become more urgent, and he meets me there.
He twists his hand lightly in my hair, then runs it down my spine.
I slide my hand underneath his jacket, and around his back. I’ve never wanted to be this near to anyone in my entire life.
Malcolm pauses, resting his forehead against mine, then whispers, “You are so beautiful. Inside and out, you’re incredible.”
Ross’s voice threatens to echo in my mind for the millionth time.
It’s been second nature to let him in. To let his voice take precedence over the words of those who actually care about me.
I push back the feelings I’ve let run wild inside me for far too long and slam the door against them.
Forcing myself to try to believe Malcolm, and I think maybe I do.
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine again, tenderly showing me he meant what he said. He slowly moves forward, laying me on my back, then whispers, “Open your eyes, and watch the stars. This kiss should be magical, in every way.”
So I do.
I believe one reason people close their eyes while kissing is sensory deprivation.
It makes it easier to focus on the feel of the kiss.
And, I can confirm, that’s a fantastic way to do it.
But kissing when the only thing you see is stars and the swirl of the galaxy?
That’s another level of intensity all together.
The only thing keeping me on earth is the gentle press of Malcolm's chest against mine, his hands caressing my neck and face, or tangling in my hair.
The breath is stolen from my lungs when he trails kisses along my jaw to just behind my ear. He pauses to whisper, “I feel like I’ve been waiting a very long time for this.”
“Me too.” Oh my gosh. Me too.