For Giggles

When I look out my window I can see the water. Right now it’s flat as glass, the soft peachy grey of morning. I can hear the surf and the seabirds calling. The wind smells good; it smells clean. I don’t have to go to the mall to find cleanliness – I push open the window and stick my head into the slipstream of wind, breathing deeply.

“What are you doing?”

“Look, you can see the boats.” I hear him roll over and mutter something, but the bed squeaks and I know he’s stood up. His hands are warm; broad and blunt as they cradle my hips. I relax against him, bones and flesh and spirit melting into him and the morning and the shore. He rubs small circles over my hip bone, over the bruise there. The little jolts of pain tickle.

“Crazy woman.” His mouth and my collarbone muffle the words. My hair catches in his; mine is finer, the strands glimmering like threads of sunlight and sea foam. His lips are warm on my skin, a delicious contrast to the cool air. “It’s freezing.”

“I want to go swimming.” The words slip out before my mind has a chance to process everything I’m feeling. I don’t care. I know what I want, and I know how to get it. He lets me step forward out of his grasp and I pull my old t-shirt over my head and drop it on a chair. We left the door open last night, wanting to bring the night into the cottage with us. Now the sandy deck is rough under my bare feet. He follows me out onto the deck and watches as I walk down the little hollowed trail we’ve made through the dunes. I start to run for the joy of it.

He catches me in the surf, laughing when I shriek as he scoops me off my feet. “Crazy woman.” One hand rubs my stomach; the other holds me safe. I drape my arms around his neck and touch my nose to his, eyes wide open.

“Hi.”

His smile takes my breath, as he took my heart. I feel foolish. I feel good. “Hi yourself.” The warm weight of his fingers there, over the gentle curve of my stomach, inspires me to kiss him. Thoroughly. “How are you?”

“We’re fine.” The water pulls at his ankles as each dying wave tries to cling to the shore. I cling to him and to happiness. This was the right choice. It felt right, from the very first words we exchanged. Words I’ve forgotten, yet which are engraved into my mind and my bones.

“I want to swim.”

“It’s too cold.”

“Then I want to wade.”

“You hate when your feet get sandy.”

I kissed him again, coaxing. Please. I love you. Laughter catches in our mouths, moving from mine to his like the trace of wine glides between tongues. He starts to laugh and then we’re both laughing. I feel the kick, the stretch and ripple of my skin. We’re all laughing. 

WolfGrrl