The Hidden Moon

As a slight breeze danced through the night, it rattled the dying leaves clinging to the trees and swirled the smoke escaping from her cigarette, its wispy white cloud captured in the light of the hidden moon. Peering through the nearly naked tree branches, she attempted to locate the heavenly lamp that could always comfort her, but saw only its starry companions. Another night, perhaps, she could lie far beneath her moon, bathing in its soft, milky beams, and gaze upon it peacefully.

But tonight, there was no solace, and there was no calming her, as her heart pounded within her chest, and her breaths fell like heavy weights in the night. She let the ancient feeling of disappointment wash over her, and momentarily closed her eyes to imagine she were dancing though the stars with her precious moon. Taking a drag from her cigarette, she watched as the steady stream pouring from her lungs climbed its way into the dark sky and wished she could join it.

As myriad thoughts invaded her mind, a mélange of feelings attacked her spirit: those of despair, confusion, and anticipation. Such sentiments had lain dormant for months; now suddenly reawakened, she felt her innermost worries and longings rising to the surface. The pretty plastic world she had created for herself – complete with painted smiles and playful laughter – had begun to melt around her, and she knew his entrance into her life had started this emotional chain of events.

While trying once again to locate the heavenly body that shone down upon her (though still to no avail), she wondered what he was doing at the moment, and if he had thought of her at all this weekend while he mingled with his friends. Silly thoughts like these always skipped through her mind when someone new captured her attention. But he was different.

She remembered how she felt the first time she met him: an inexplicable interest that had enraptured her. And while she admitted to being a hopeless romantic, in a Fred Astaire-Bobby Darin sort of way, she was never one to fall prey to the “love at first sight” nonsense. After all, how can you love someone you don’t know? Yet, a mysterious and tantalizing aura surrounded him that night; something which grasped her heart in its clutches and still refused to release her. Would they meet again? And more importantly, why did she care if they did? Such a bizarre situation, and one she could not explain; no matter how much analysis she applied to herself or the surrounding events.

Lighting another cigarette, she felt the cool fall air invade her lungs as it mixed with the calming nicotine fix. A bashful smile illuminated her face when she remembered his gentle kiss from that weekend; remembered how his strong arms felt when he hugged her as if he didn’t want to let go; remembered the feeling of his hands placed casually on her hips when he pulled her closer to kiss her again. For that brief moment, she had felt truly happy. All of their clever conversations that had taken place during the preceding weeks had manifested themselves in the exact manner she had hoped for; that perfect moment...

But this reminiscing was the fluff of fairy tales. She shook her head, as if to banish the childish reverie, and muttered to herself, “We’re just friends.” A meaningless catchphrase designed to convince herself there was nothing between them; to erase the damage she had already allowed to occur; to reverse her self-imposed demise.

Yes, this game of hers: she knew it quite well, since she had been playing for years. Her heart was skipping happily towards the precipice, and her mind was screaming, “Stop!” Her heart always won. Years of self-imposed loneliness and introspection had made her mind stronger and wiser; but that still didn’t keep her heart from dreaming. Love had always been her downfall. So eager to believe someone cared for her, wanting so much for it to be true, she overlooked the misery and abuse that infiltrated all of her previous relationships.

But, no, the present situation differed from those of the past: of this she was certain. Recalling their many conversations – his witty words and sweet compliments – she felt her pulse quicken. He cared for her too much to view her simply as a friend, and he had suggested they rendezvous that evening, catching just a few moments together. As her heart continued to organize neatly and to link flawlessly all the pieces creating her happily ever-after puzzle, her mind interjected with a few touches of reality.

Inferences and wishful thinking aside, he always chose his words to her carefully: never uttering any specific declarations of emotional attachment, though several chances to do so had presented themselves during the tenure of their friendship. And while the rendezvous from seven months ago may have been pleasant, it lasted only a few hours, and ended without determining a time when they could meet each other again. Infantile romantic notions, allowing futile conversations to masquerade as love letters.

She closed her eyes and pictured his smile from that day… yes; he must have felt their special connection, too.

The soft light from the moon shone from a different direction now, but still its origins remained obscured. Looking down at her watch, she realized the hands had already taken a few steps past the 11 marker. Although the hours were aging quickly, the expectation he would surely call plagued her with anticipation. She lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, while her mind and heart continued their never-ending dance of wills. Two steps forward: there was still time to hear from him; two steps back: he will not call tonight.

The truth was, as much as she wanted to speak to him (because he could always make her smile), she knew the less contact they had with each other, the better it would be. The surrounding circumstances – distant cities, other girls, different lifestyles – had already decreed this was not to be, no matter how perfect for one another they may have seemed. And all the flirtatious chatter merely perpetuated the myth they could somehow bring the fantasy to fruition.

Time continued its tick-tocking. It was now 11:45, and she knew for certain his sweet voice would not serenade her ears tonight. He had never called this late. With the disappointment feeling heavy on her heart, she released a sigh and watched her breath manifest itself in a brief white stream as it met the chilly air.

“Really, why would he call?” she asked herself aloud, trying to break the daydream state in which she was drowning. Yet, she still wondered what he was doing at that very moment, and if even one second of his thoughts were devoted to her. Pointless mental mutterings, but they persisted, nonetheless.

A frown crept upon her face as she looked at the watch reading 12:20; another unimpressive day, best ended by crawling into bed and forgetting her heart’s wishes. But then she smiled. For, they would surely speak tomorrow about everything and nothing, as this was the mark of all of their conversations. He would regale her with tales from his exciting weekend, and she would share her narrative of the last couple days, as well; omitting, of course, the several hours tonight she spent hoping for his call.

As her mind temporarily retreated from battle, her heart reveled in joyous impatience for tomorrow’s events. She had something to look forward to, indeed, and this touch of reassurance was precisely what she needed to bring about her nightly slumber.

But without her beloved moon present to tuck her in.