the wish

She looked sad, but why, I couldn’t tell. Her lips smiled in that knowing way I’d always loved, but at the ends they curved down just enough that I could tell she was pained. Upon the snow-covered picnic table she sat in the solemn silence as snowflakes danced around her head and the sun winked and faded over the distant, sugared hill and bathed the few clouds with pink light. She watched this distantly and it scared me. Her eyes, always so full of wonder, were cast with shadows; her mascara clung in streams against her cheek.

I approached her to the side and sat down next to her. She turned to me, briefly, her smile broadening, eyes watering. My hand floated across her shoulder and I pulled her into a deep hug. She sobbed into my neck and wrapped her arms around my back.

“What’s wrong, Ann?” I asked her. My fingers danced through her hair, brushing out the large flakes that clung stubbornly to each brown strand. She melted there in the frost as she leaned in on me more.

"I'm just thinking of you--of us," she said. "John, I just want to be with you. I want you to hold me for a while. I want this to be the best night ever. Do you love me?" She looked into my eyes.

"More than anything," I said, wiping away the makeup. "More than the world itself."

She sniffed and bowed her head. "I know," she said. "I know. I love you too. Will you sit with me?"

"Sure kitten."

She was cold to the touch yet she didn't shiver. Black, leather jacket covered her top and a tight pair of jeans, her shapely legs. She didn't have her mitts, no hat. When she breathed it was icy. My hands caressed her body in a gradual attempt to warm her. She looked up at me with longing eyes.

Her kiss was like silk to a world of wool, like water to a drought, like sweet fruit to a starving man. I embraced her fully as she sat on my lap, face to me, and kissed me again. Man will tell you that a kiss can last a lifetime, but this was over far too soon for my liking. She rested her head on my shoulder and I began to rub her frigid body once more.

“Do you…” she whispered, her voice muffled through my jacket, “Do you remember a few months back, that hike we took near the river?”

“Hmm,” I replied, kissing her head lightly. I did remember; how could I ever forget? Me, dressed in simple jean shorts and a bright yellow t-shirt; her with a bright white tank-top and nice khaki shorts, her hair tied back in a ponytail and walking stick in hand, looking like a true adventurer on some sort of epic expedition. The day had been brilliant, walking hand-in-hand with the river as our only other companion. We found a secluded water hole on an offshoot stream and spent most of our time there, together.

“I was thinking about that,” she continued, “about something you said. I asked you what you’d do if I ever went away. Remember what you told me?”

“Of course I do, kitten, of course I do. I said, ‘Hun, if you were to ever leave me, I might as well go up and die, ‘cause I’ve never had someone to love me so good as you do.’ And it’s true, kitten, every word of it. Now let's go inside and get you warm." I rocked her gently, looked down for those lovely blue eyes, but she glanced away, wringing her hands. She stood and walked through the snow and I followed close behind her.

"Hey," I said, brushing her shoulder, "it's okay. We're okay. Everything is fine. Come inside, we'll make some coco, and I'll light a fire and put on some music. C'mon kitten, you know I love you." My hand reached down and hugged hers to it. The pink hand drained from the sky as the sun came closer to sleep; only the fading blue was left. Everything was silence as the snow drifted lazily to the ground and I held her hand. She refused to look at me.

After a time I let go and the hand shot straight up to her chest. She looked up toward dimming light, but I could only stare at her.

"What'd I do?"

"Nothing."

"I don't believe it. You're mad at me. Why else wouldn't you tell me what's wrong?"

"You really don't remember, do you? How important today is?"

"Now it's something I was supposed to remember. And you're not going to tell me, are you? You're just going to keep me guessing, is that it? You want to be mad at me."

"Of course not!"

"Then tell me."

"You should know this!" She spun and looked at me pointedly, whispering, "You should know this."

I sighed and looked up. "People forget, Ann. I forget. For God's sake, I'm only human! With the classes I've been taking and work --

"Not this, John, it's not the same! How could you? It's Christmas Eve! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Damn it Ann, just tell me why it's so important then!" Above us, the first stars of the night twinkled delicately into existence. The moon shone: a small sliver in the sky. Her eyes flicked up at them and back down. Her face was worried and red.

"No. Not...not yet. I'll tell you, I will, later. In a few hours. Yeah..." She looked past our house, past the darkened hills and beyond the stars and galaxies. An involuntary shiver passed through her. Her eyes darkened. She held herself tightly. "I'm not mad at you." The sound was eerie, distant, quiet. "I'm not mad."

~*~*~*~*~

The fire cracked and sputtered in the stone-laden hole in the wall; the glow of the embers - the only light in the room - illuminated Ann's soft features and the cup she held up to her lips wafted lazy steam sprites into her face that twirled around her for mere moments and then dissipated. I sat cross-legged on the floor looking at her huddled in her favorite chair looking into the fire. A blanket was draped over her shoulders and, at my insistence, she wore some sweat clothes.

"Feel better?"

As if performing a true diagnostic on herself, her brows furrowed at the question. After a thought, she nodded. "What time is it?"

"Ten thirty. Are you tired?"

"Yes--well, I mean, no."

"Well which is it?" I laughed.

"Neith--uh...hmm. Both I guess," she smiled. "I'm tired, but I don't want to go to bed."

"Me either."