The Walk; Atlantic

They walked hand in hand, his palm was sweaty. He was in love. And when the sun set over the Atlantic he felt calm. The sea was no longer in motion, but smooth and black with red streaks across the horizon line. The stars began to shine more and more, with every inch of the sun now completely hidden, they gleamed across the ocean and when he could finally look at his girl, he saw how the stars and the moon and the sea all reflected off of her and all the beauty in the world was his.

His feet were cold in the sand and he walked slowly, holding his sneakers in his right hand. He tried to speak, to ask her how her night was, but it came out quiet and clogged, and she couldn’t hear him through the sound of the ocean breeze.

So he looked down, then straight ahead, cleared his throat and stopped.

“I love you.” He said as he stopped walking, pulling her back to him as she continued forward.

“You’re too romantic, and I’m tired, let’s keep walking.” She said as she urged him on, pulling his left hand.

They walked for another few hundred yards down the sandy stretch, his toes now numb. They could see her car parked up on the street above the sea wall. Silent, she walked him up the ramp onto the sidewalk that led to the parking lot and headed for her car. As she walked to the driver side door and opened it, he walked over to the railing over-looking the ocean and leaned upon it with his forearms.

She sighed to herself, walked over to him and put her hand on his back.

“You know Ted, our roles are reversed. You should be the one avoiding the word love. I should be falling head over heels for you right now.”

His head was straight, eyes gazing at the horizon and he said, with the beauty and poetic rhythm with which only a jazz singer could have sung or soft-spoken dictator could have spoken:

“When the love for a girl is great, and the love is new, a man will naively open his mouth and say it to her, but only once, and only if the love is true.”

He paused, as she took her hand off his back and leaned her shoulders against the railing. He kept his eyes on the ocean as she tried to get his attention by leaning further backwards to be within his sight.

“I gave it one last try darling. One last try.” He said, closing his eyes.

“Teddy-bear, what are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Let’s go home; I’m sure you’re tired.”

She was now wide awake.

They got into her car and she buckled up and waited for a moment, then backed out slowly and nervously as if she had forgotten how to drive. Her hands were trembling, and he noticed it, but didn’t say a word. She drove, the radio was off, and his window was down. The street lights shown across his face every so often and within the second of light there was a glimpse of a young man who had forsaken love forever. And when the car came to a stop light, there was a minute long glimpse of a red-tinted young woman, who would live forever lonely, but live forever in the arms of many.

The light turned green and she stepped on the gas with a heavy foot. They drove silently along the coast, with the Atlantic calm and black, and the sky, starry and bright, echoing with the sound of a young man giving love one last try.