He spends his hours asleep. He doesn't see the sunlight. I only see him with his eyes closed tight.
When I close mine, I see the questions I've wanted to ask. I want to see what he sees. Is he lonely where he is? Is the air crisp like the first day of spring? Do the colours glow like a lamp of lava?
I sigh and press my lips to his forehead. His skin tastes sweet.
I kiss his nose. He doesn't move. He's still asleep. If I try to kiss his lips, will he stir?
I press my palm to his chest. Does he feel this?
I let my jacket fall to the chair. I take off my shoes one at a time and gently climb into bed. Can he feel me warming up beside him? I press my cheek to his.
"Hi baby," I tell him. "It's me. Remember me?"
Does he remember the sound of my voice?
I eventually find a quiet space between waking and sleeping. I wonder what it's like to sleep all the time. Doesn't he get tired of it?
But when he wakes up, we go for a walk. I quietly gaze up at his face and try to memorize his sleepy face. How could I have forgotten something so beautiful! I clutch his arm even tighter. I don't care if it hurts him. He hurts me even more.
"What's bothering you?" He asks as if he doesn't know.
I gently wipe my lashes and look at how my sleeves stain.
"You know, it's been a while."
He stalls for a second, a knowingness flickering in his expression.
"I know. I'm sorry."
My heart leaps. But we still have these moments—small moments. Moments I can't jeopardize by whining about how much he sleeps. He can't help it, after all.
"Are you okay?" I ask him earnestly.
"I'm fine. Really."
"Five years," I say. "Five years. I know you. You can't fool me. Tell me."
He starts to cry. The tears pour out of him like the steady stream of water meandering through grooves in the sand. I pull him close and try to memorize each and every feeling my senses give me. He's cold and he's trembling.
"We have time," I lie.
He pulls in a deep breath. "I've known you for five years. My soul says I've known you forever."
He stops to stare across the ocean to the horizon. Orange and yellow light dance upon his face. His flesh is no longer pale. At least not right now.
"Is this where you wanted to be?" I ask.
He nods and tells me, "You found the place."
I suddenly feel the bottoms of my feet sink into the warm wet sand. The ocean waves rush to blanket my toes.
"Is this where I can find you?" My voice cracks.
"Always," he says.
I wake up.
The nurse wipes the tears from my cheeks and tells me he's in a better place.
