unrequited love.

I saw silk colors swirling and figures swaying, laughing faces, blue eyes, and black hands hitting keys hard and moving pieces coming to a high then a halt. A slow symphony of hums humming like waves lapping crisp and sharp and then falling back again. People clapped and hats tipped — but we stood staring, tracing memories of fingertips on bare skin. I looked to my hands and they were long and slender and the shoes below them felt farther away than the moon and all the stars.

“Toulouse,” I heard him softly say.

“I’m here,” I said.

“Open your eyes,” he cooed.

Suddenly I was snatched out of my dream and thrown back into the woods.

“Dammit,” I said, rubbing my eyes before rolling over to push myself from the ground. Jack was leaning against a tree, watching the last bits of daylight fall across the valley. He held a chewed-up apple rind in his hand and the horses’ reins in the other.

“‘Bout time,” he said, tossing the rind to the ground. “Ready when you are Lou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said

I swatted at the dry brush stuck to my hand-me-down jeans before walking over to Rosie. I grabbed the reins from Jack and mounted her fast, steadying myself with my left palm on her shoulder.

“Let’s hurry,” I said before digging my heels into her side.

We made fast towards the lookout — our favorite clearing in the woods to sit and gaze at the open flatlands before the last bits of fiery orange crawl behind the blue mountains to the west. We made it just in time for Jack to let out a slow whistle as the sun disappeared from sight. He unbuttoned his leather pouch and uncorked the whiskey he stole from his Nana. He offered me the jug but I shook my head, unwilling to tear my eyes away. 

“Not tonight.” 

Longing for that view all day won’t do you any good. You’ll get a few sweet seconds but just as quickly, you’re married to a sense of abandonment that hurts like a punch in the stomach, and returns when you let it. Sal tells me that’s called unrequited love.

“Worth the wait,” I said. 

“Always worth the wait,” said Jack. 

We sat there staring like spectators trying to replay all the best details of a horserace. Then when it was almost too dark to see, we turned the horses and made our way back toward the ranch.  

“Race you,” he said.

“You can sure try,” I said.