The moon was high in the sky, and the music was happy laughter slowly getting quieter as we walked away from the bar. His hand was big and mine small inside of his, being protected and held very strongly. He was talking. I wasn't listening.
I watched his other hand animated in the conversation as he spoke. His dark skin glistened from the humidity, and his body movements were slow and smooth. His charcoal eyes shimmered from happiness, and I could see the new moon reflecting in them. The waves crashing were like hushed giants, loud enough for you to know they were there, but murmuring enough for you to not be able to hear their words. The sand was cool between my toes, and the night was warm. The breeze off the ocean was salty and sticky.
I inhaled. Then I deeply exhaled. My dress fluttered around my ankles, light cotton, a beautiful bright orange in the sun, but a subtle rust colour under the moon. We walked along the beach, no one else but us. I didn't look at him again. I watched our feet. His broad and ungainly unlike mine delicate and tip toe-ing, so as not to step on anything sharp. We walked past some palm huts, where people hid from the sun in the day. Now they were scattered, like trees, only there were no coconuts. I loved the sound of the ocean, like a hush at my side. Beckoning, almost taunting me, its whispers coming and going with spurts of mist.
We walked on and I noticed he has stopped talking. I didn't want him to stop talking. The sound of his voice lulled me into a trance. I was always happily numb there. Didn't matter what he was saying, but that he was saying it to me. He stopped abruptly. Looking at me with a puzzled gaze, he asked me why I was so quiet. I didn't want to talk. I had so much to say, but I didn't want to ruin the moment. I took his hand and kissed the back. I looked up into his questioning eyes. He was so beautiful. Every feature on his face was perfect but they were sad. I smiled and said that I just wanted to enjoy the moment. He walked a few more steps and said that we had come too far and that we should go back.
I thought about those exact words. How did we get this far? Should we go back? But I was not thinking about our walk. I was thinking about that exact moment in time. The emotions that overwhelmed me made me feel like crying. I didn't look at him. I just walked and held his hand. His presence, so strong, so gentle, and filled my space with comfort. Just as I was getting lost into deep thoughts of fear, vulnerability, and exposing myself to someone who shouldn't know me, he stopped again. We were almost back to the path, but he turned me to face him. I strained my neck to look up to him, and he cupped my face with two hands. He invaded my emotions when he looked me in my eyes. His eyebrows furrowed with concern. Silently, we stared at each other, his two thumbs gently stroking my cheeks. He looked from one eye to the other, then to my lips, and then back at my eyes. At that moment, I knew he could see the quiet pain, the fear of losing him, the unpredictability of my actions, the intense heat that grew from the passion I felt, and all the other emotions that swirled in my mind. He said nothing, but kissed my cheek. My eyelashes trembled, holding back tears, and he kissed my nose. He drew back to look at me one more time, and then kissed my lips. The space between us had disappeared, his left hand releasing my face and then pressing into the small of my back. I felt the passion, but the kiss was not sexual. It was tender, it was soft, it was a kiss to let me know that it was all going to be alright. Where words were not able to be found for comfort, his kiss revealed the painting of his emotions.
It was at that moment I knew it was going to be alright. And as we separated our bodies and held hands walking back to the room, I left all the turmoil there on the sand, to be washed away with the waves.
