#love, and other catastrophes

The towel felt like sandpaper, but that’s expected when you sun bake on concrete. Everything else was perfect though. The sun was hot, the sea breeze tackled sweat, and the breeze won. People were beautiful, but quiet, like they were all sharing secrets. And I was with my girl, in heaven.

She was lying on her front with her elbows locked at right angles. They perfectly held up her shoulders and, of course, her breasts. Her head was tilted slightly to the right, which made her hair cover part of her face. That intrigued me temporarily. Why is something more sexy when covered? Who cares, it just was.

“Mummy”. “Mummy”. “Mummy”. Why can’t parents take care of their kids? We looked at each other, sharing an unspoken agreement that kids suck. They’re great, but not here, not right now. That unspoken agreement made us look deep into each other’s eyes. I felt it in my belly. I wanted this moment to last forever.

“Mummy”. Good, someone’s finally taking care of it, the calls were getting softer and hopefully they’ll stop soon so we can go back to the moment. Ms flicked her hair around, and I was up for more flirting.

Then, she shot up. She moved like a cougar, or less ambiguously, a cheetah. See, she has kids. I knew that because it wasn’t someone else’s kid, it was her kid. He was drowning. She sprinted to the side of the pool, and as she got closer, her arms lowered to reach out to save him.

But, she didn’t. She was calm, and he felt it. He was in danger, but knew everything was going to be OK now. “Swim, you can do it, swim to me”. And he did. He was safe.

I managed to get the sides of my mouth to form what was technically a smile. In that moment we had another unspoken agreement, to ignore the 500 other ways this could have gone.