65
Sasha
I say Lillian’s name softly because I love how it feels in my mouth.
Because I don’t know what else to say.
Because of how close she’s standing to me.
One of her hands brushes against my thigh.
On purpose, lingering, tracing my skin with the calluses on her fingertips.
I make a sound, I think.
A small involuntary inhale that Lillian responds to by pressing up against me.
Reaching around me, one of her hands gripping at my towel and the other strong on the back of my neck, pulling me toward her until our faces are nearly touching.
And I’ve set the CD aside, fumbling, trying to be careful with it when what I want is to move fast.
All they’ve said about urgency is true.
All I’ve said.
The imaginary kisses I’ve written songs about and the flirty lines I’ve sung without feeling a thing are moving through me now, words I’ll never sing the same again.
She’s breathing harder.
From the cold, from treading water, from feeling me racing against her, like we’ve just gotten offstage before the encore.
She contains all the withheld power before the drums and bass come in, and I want to drown in it when it does.
I want to feel it so loud that it fuzzes out the rest of the world and leaves my ears ringing for hours afterward.
“Yes?” she asks.
I push her hood back, and she pulls me in closer, my forehead against hers.
We’re going to sing like this someday.
In that moment, everyone will cheer and scream because this is a story the Channel would tell.
They’d suspend every corner of their suspicion and cynicism and say it’s perfect.
A fifth, a clean harmony making you certain that love reverberates across time and circumstance and improbability.
People need those stories.
And my heart will feel settled as I look directly at her.
The crowd will be roaring but I’ll be able to make out her voice amidst it all.
Live, from her mouth, not amplified and not affected for the world.
I’ll know it isn’t a story.
I’ll know it isn’t make believe.
“Can’t you tell?” I say.
We are equally in this.
We’re both the sea relentless and consuming and the ships reckless for setting sail on it, for throwing away caution and navigating by the stars.
I whisper yes.