Page 109 of Sharkbait
“I do.”
“First The Beatles, and now this?” I shake my head. “I don’t know, Cold Brew. If the sex wasn’t so good, I might have to rethink this whole thing with you.”
Her face falls.
It’s an expression I never want to see on her face again. And I hate that I’m the one who put it there.
“I’m kidding, Lou,” I rush to say. “I’m kidding.”
A gentle smile quickly replaces the sadness that was there.
“You called me Lou,” she breathes.
“I did, yeah.”
“You’ve never called me that before.”
“Is that…okay?”
“Yeah. It’s more than okay.”
She scoots close, sits on my lap, and wraps her legs around my hips.
Then she kisses me, slow and deep, and things between us start up again. But, because I’m an absolute moron, I can’t help but break the kiss to ask again, “How does someone hate sunsets? Why?”
“Just do.” She slides off my lap but keeps her thighs draped over mine.
“You have to give me more than that.”
“Fine. I’ve always found them a little…depressing.”
“Go on.”
I will never not find this woman fascinating.
“When I was a young kid, we used to go to the Jersey shore once a year. It was such a different world than our landlockedlittle life in Nebraska. My grandparents on my dad’s side had a house there. Even though my dad was basically out of the picture, they still invited us out once a year to spend time with them. They invited my dad too, and the big mystery every year was whether or not he would show. It sounds sad when I say that out loud, but it actually always felt like a hopeful time. Like this was the summer he’d join us there and spend time with us. Anyway, Ralph and I used to wake up early every morning and walk down to the beach. The budding astronomer in him wanted to watch the sunrise. I wanted to watch the water. I loved those mornings with him. Every morning, it looked like the water was giving birth to the sun. Like this ball of fire had been underwater, keeping its burn alive even when everything around it was trying to squelch it, drown it, soak it with sadness.”
She shakes her head. “But it wouldn’t let that happen. It stayed submerged every night, and then as soon as morning hit, it was like ‘Hey bitches! You thought you could put out my flame? Well, you can’t! Here I am, ready to do it all again!’ That always felt so hopeful to me. It got me fired up and ready for the good things that I just knew would happen for us that day. And at the top of that list was our dad showing up, like he said he would. But every night when Ralph and I went back to that same spot, alone, and watched the sun go back down, I knew the possibilities for that day were over.” She pauses. “I think most people are partial to the sunset. But not me. I want to see her rise.”
The VHS tape has run to the very end, and that crackly fuzz fills the screen, but I can’t take my eyes off her.
“No matter what, though,” Louise continues. “During all those ups and downs, the ocean kept lapping at my feet. Almost like it was talking to me, reminding me that while people may let me down, nature never will. Nature never lies. It never abandons. It always comes back for us.”
I run my hand along the length of her thigh.
“Is that when you decided you wanted to be a marine biologist?During those summers?”
“I think so? I remember sitting there, just marveling about how deep she goes, how many layers she has, and all the lifethat lives inside her. Sometimes I couldn’t breathe thinking about how powerful she was. I decided I wanted to find a way to always stay close to her. If you ask me, there’s nothing in the whole world as beautiful and as terrifying.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say. “Ever looked in the mirror?”
She smiles sweetly and looks down.
I take her face in my hands, tilt her chin up, and whisper, “I’m going to make you rethink sunsets, Louise Anderson.”
“Good luck with that,” she whispers back.
We move into each other, and just before our lips make contact... the sound of bees fills the air.
