The Weight of The Moon

Chapter Ten

I would have liked to have worn a long, backless ball gown with a pair of stunning killer heels, on the red carpet, and surrounded by paparazzi for my ‘meeting’ with Marlie, but you can’t have everything, right? Instead, I was wearing a baggy band tee, a pair of over-washed denim shorts, thanks to the unexpected arrival of a typical summer, and two already mud-coated welly boots, courtesy of the previous night’s rain. Surrounded by mud and grass, I questioned my motives for being there, but then Marlie metaphorically slapped me around the face, and I instantly remembered. 

I hadn’t yet reached the fairground, but I knew I must be close, for more than once, short, chubby toddlers hurried past me, arguing over which ride they wanted to go on first. 

It wasn’t long before I reached the fair, although it took some time in finding Marlie at his mother’s artificial flower stand. 

Firstly, I’d had to scoot my way around a puddle that was at least as wide as my house. It took up the whole of the pathway between the tombola stand and the First Aid Tent, and yet the bright sun’s rays were beaming down, leaving red remains on my skin.

Typical English weather.

Next, I’d had to worm my way between long lines of eager children, waiting to see the clown. Most people had seen the clown coming and either taken cover at a nearby stand, or practically ran to where they wanted to be, in high hopes of avoiding Mr. Clown, and his Pied-Piper like crowd of adolescent followers. 

And after that, I ended up in knitting needle land. Getting stuck behind plenty of old ladies, hobbling along at a snail’s pace was not how I’d imagined the day to go. 

But, after I’d completed my impossible tasks, just as Heracles had before me, I received my reward. For, directly in front of me stood a wooden stand, only slightly taller than myself, that had been hastily painted in a pale pink colour. 

‘FRESH FLOWERS’, was scrawled across the top, in what I recognised as Marlie’s handwriting, from when he had scribbled his number on my hand. 

And stood there, behind the stand, was Marlie himself, with his large brown eyes emerging from behind multiple clouds of flowers. Dodging various sized flower pots, he materialised from the wild jungle of leaves. I caught my breath. Black skinny jeans, muscles peeking out from behind the sleeves of his bright white polo shirt, and to top it all off (literally), a beautiful beam.

“Hey.” He blushed, as he handed me a red rose.

A RED ROSE. 

“I just plucked it from one of my mum’s bouquets.” He justified coyly, as if it wasn’t the most romantic thing he could have ever done.

“Thanks.” I whispered, as if Eros, (or if you prefer the Roman name, Cupid) had shattered my voice box with his love arrow.

“Maaaaarlie!” Sang a voice from behind him, just as he had begun to open his mouth to speak. And with that, a tall, but rather plump middle-aged woman bounded around from the back of the flower stall. She wore a lovely smile, the type that, alone, could brighten your day in its entirety.

“Hello, dear. You must be Selena. I’m Marlie’s mum.” I threw out my hand, for her to shake, but she laughed, and instead, enveloped me in a large hug. Thankfully, it didn’t last for too long, due to the long line of customers she had to see to. 

We left swiftly after that, with Marlie, wary of his mother’s probable return.

Palm in palm, we wandered. We took a ride on the ferris wheel, which was way too terrifying for my liking, but it did give Marlie a totally legit reason to put his arm around me. And I wasn’t complaining about that.