The Lighthouse Keeper

Mistletoe

We have a splendid dinner to celebrate having all but one item, though we pretend that we're celebrating all but two. "Cheers," Francis says, and we tap glasses. We've requested a smaller table, where we can sit across from each other and still are able to reach each other to do this. I set my glass back down, and smile. "We're so close, I can feel it! I just know that we'll be able to leave soon."

Francis' smile becomes a frown. "That's what I was wondering," he says.

I set my fork down after a bite of salad. "What is it?" I ask him.

"It's just.... once we leave....." He trails off.

"What???" I ask, curious now.

"Will you still stay with me?" He finishes.

I consider this for the first time. I can't go back to where I was. Where will I go? And wherever it is, will I be with Francis?

He studies my face, and I finally say, "Yes, atleast- I want to. But where will we go?"

Francis looks relieved. "I don't know. We could take to the woods, or-"

"Francis, don't be silly," I laugh. "We can't just go into the woods and hope to survive!"

He shrugs, grinning, "Well then, you get a better idea!"

I want to prove a point- though I'm not totally sure what it is- so I quickly make something up and say it aloud. "We could hide in the basement of my old school," I suggest.

Francis spits out his food and laughs so hard I wonder if he'll survive. Okay, okay, I suppose it was a bit stupid.

His face is red, but he finally recovers from the laughing fit. "Any other brilliant ideas?"

"Nope, that just about does it," I reply.

"Well, I have one," he says. "What about we put on some mermaid costumes and jump around the basement singing kumbiah?" He asks, then goes off laughing again.

I cross my arms over my chest, and glare at him until he stops. "Very funny," I say bitterly.

"C'mon, Claire, loosen up. I was just joking!" he says.

"Well, we have to figure this out if we want a place to go," I respond. "Unless you'd rather go and waste time... I don't know, dancing and hanging up mistletoes." I say sarcastically.

"Actually, I think that's a great idea," Francis says, smirking.

Can't he ever be serious?

"So how 'bout it?" Francis asks me. "Why don't we dance and hang up mistletoes?"

I grab a pie and throw it at his face. "Does that answer your question?" I ask as he wipes the stuff from his eyes.

"Yeah, I think so," he says, grabbing a napkin and cleaning his face. "But I'm gonna ask you again in a little while."

"I'll just get another pie ready," I say.

We both start laughing, and I can't seem to stop. Finally I calm down, and we finish our supper.

It's dark, and I say that I'm tired. I tell him that I'm just about ready for bed, but he looks quite disappointed. "I'm not kidding, can we please do one of the things you suggested?" he pleads.

Okay, he's going a bit far. "Are you serious?" I ask him, annoyed.

"Yeah, I actually am," he says. "I really want to."

I sigh, wanting him to shut up. "Which one would you prefer?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"Hmmmm, I don't know. You choose." he says with a grin.

"Okay, fine. We can dance, but only for a little while. I don't want to get ahead of myself." I say. We go to the room at the top of the lighthouse, where we can see the light of the stars and the moon.

"Music," Francis says in a whisper, and soft, sweet music begins to play. I take a deep breath, and then try to remember how in the world this is done.

"I'm not sure how to dance," I admit when he takes a step closer to me.

"I'll show you," he says. "Here." He takes one of my hands, and puts it on his shoulder. He puts that hand on my side, and clasps my other hand in his.

"Now, you basically just move slowly in a square," he says. "It's odd, but it's relaxing."

We dance for a while without saying anything to one another, before finally I feel like I'm going to fall asleep.

"I'm exhausted," I say in a whisper. "Can I go to bed now?"

He stops, but still holds one of my hands. "Okay, but only if I can walk you back," he says. I nod, and we go to the door of my room.

When we reach it, a mistletoe appears over us, and he says, "How did that get there?"

"You know perfectly well that you've made it appear," I say with a yawn.

"Well that doesn't mean we can't pretend that was an accident, does it?" he asks. And with that, he leans forward and kisses me. I'm surprised, but I don't mind it; his lips are warm, and I'm dissapointed with how short it is.

"Goodnight," I whisper with a smile.

"Goodnight," he returns.

I close my door behind me, and realize what I refused to admit before:

I love him. I really do.