What’s Inside?
The smell of summer was returning to its sickly-sweet state. Battered hibiscus drooped lazily against a familiar weight. Rain-soaked sand, an aesthetic that made it look as if the ocean was neverending, decided that it wanted to dry.
For the first time that day, the sun had become visible as it was finishing its descent. The western hills, still bright from generations of haphazard whitewashing, seemed to sigh in appreciation as the final brushstrokes of the day released themselves from the canvas. A deep auburn awoke against gray clouds; remnants of a receding hurricane.
Another life-changing landscape taken for granted. Tertiary to the couple meeting at the ocean’s edge.
But tonight was special.
A wry smile crept along the edge of her pale, cherubic face as the sky continued to shift. Deeper reds and oranges. Grays to blacks. Sunlight to starlight to moonlight, all flowing down her white gown. A new canvas for those artists who occupy the night.
“What did you bring me?” she began.
“Your gifts have been and will be,” he countered, “You know that, so what did you bring me?”
Turning, she knew full well that a smile radiant enough to reignite the dusk would be waiting for her. Even now, after what felt like an immeasurable amount of time, she could feel the tingling in her chest. As he came into view, a moment that should’ve been a repetitious, mundane moment — replaced. Never before had her expectations been so wholly exceeded so often or to such an extent.
She realized too late that the time she had been looking at him was longer than what social protocol dictates. She silently thanked the moon for blushing at her back; hiding the flush of embarrassment clawing at her cheeks. He simply continued to smile that knowing smile, penetrating her to her core. Giving her his light.
“I brought you three things,” she said, gesturing to something unseen at her feet.
“Just three?”
“You’re lucky to get one! Besides, these gifts are infinite and each comes with a price.”
“I’ll gladly pay.”
His golden eyes sharpened. Most men barricade their love with high walls of sin: gluttony, lust, greed. All he ever needed was curiosity to sate his desire and lower his guard. She was the only one blessed with that knowledge, so she held it tight; grateful.
She was surprised to find herself touching his cheek, giving into subconscious temptation that seemed to reveal itself in his presence.
When did I do that? she mused. This wasn’t the first time her desires manifested itself in motion.
He took her hand in his and kissed every finger with delicate intent. Faithful moments like these were the source of her attraction. As with all facets of his life, he had to exist in every moment; mind, body, and soul.
Giddy and glowing, she reluctantly took her hand away before pulling the first gift onto her lap. A green bottle; slender, with a long cork. It contained a light blue liquid.
“What’s inside?”
His curiosity always seems near bursting.
She found herself running her hands through her silver hair. A nervous habit that only occurred when she found herself pleasantly distracted. She turned her focus back to the bottle.
“Summer skies with cool breezes overlooking shaded hilltops,” she replied, “and a wish.”
“That’s an infinite gift, indeed,” he said, smiling thoughtfully, “but what’s the price?”
“A kiss,” she said, a little too quickly.
Before she could consider what to say next, he left his feet with an unexpected deftness, closing the distance between them in one swift motion. In an instant she found herself lifted off the ground, easily cradled in his arms.
This kiss came as if from the distant hurricane. His hands held her aloft; his lips soft, his grasp firm. Her mind went blank as she reached up with her hands to draw his kiss in deeper. The moment seemed to last forever. Each thunderclap that rolled over the ocean seemed like applause from nature, giving its divine blessing.
When she opened her eyes he had already eased her back into her spot on the sand and was sidling back into his, gift in hand. She touched her mouth with one finger, savoring the opposing sensations he left.
“What’s next?”
Leaving her small reverie, she pulled out another bottle. The glass was covered in gray-black streaks; storm clouds frozen in mid-surge. It also had a large, spherical base and what appeared to be several silver coins dangling by a string around the bottle’s neck. Looking closer, the coins were also attached to fine wires that climbed upward and over the stopper. Each wire was firmly embedded into the cork, using the weight of each coin to secure it. The moonlight refracting off of the storm glass and the silver made for what looked like a spectral waltz that drew the two away from the clever piece of engineering.
“What’s inside?” he asked, awe apparent on his face.
“Wind through your hair, sunlight at your back, and the feel of a horse galloping between your legs,” she replied with an air of pride in her voice, “and a wish.”
“Another wish, another price,” was all he could muster after he pulled his eyes from the ghostly dance. “What would you have me do?”
“Our own dance.”
This response came out smoother than the last price and she was ready when he came to a stop in front of her. With a flourish and a bow, as befitting an old-fashioned gentleman, he extended his hand to her in invitation. Without hesitation, she let her hand rest delicately in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet and down to the beach. With a short spin, he slowly placed his right hand on her waist and locked the fingers of his left hand with her right. Then, with surprising care, pulled her close.
He was no great singer and there was no music, but he could hum. The resonating sensation that flowed from the deep baritone of his voice rippled through her body as goosebumps pimpled her small frame. As she closed her eyes, they began to spin. As always, he emanated a comforting warmth and, as he rested his head against hers, she inhaled. His heat, coupled with his unique smell, reminded her of what it meant to feel safe.
After what seemed like an instant, she opened her eyes to find that the moon had somehow reached its zenith. Leaning forward on her tiptoes she pulled him down for another passionate kiss, grateful for the moment. Hand in hand, they walked back up to their place on the beach in satisfied silence.
“I believe you have one more gift for me,” he insisted.
“Patience,” she said as if reprimanding a child, a mischievous smile tugging at her mouth, “only the best gift comes last.”
She let the drama of the search drag out, looking fruitlessly for something that she’d already found.
“Hmmm, perhaps there was never a third gift,” she said, increasing the theatrics of it all.
“Oh really? That’s rather unfortunate,” he responded with a hint of teasing in his voice.
“Ah, here we are,” she exclaimed at last.
From the sand, she extracted a small metallic box with tiny hinges on one end and a keyhole on the other. From her pocket, she produced a key so small that it fit within the edges of her thumb. She carefully placed it in the keyhole and turned. The box chimed. The hinges clicked and released.
Inside was a ring. No ordinary ring. Three intertwining bands of different material created the foundation:
- a shiny, metallic band of onyx, a shade of new-moon black
- a hard, wooden band of cedar, a shade of earthen brown
-a thin, almost fragile band of glass, a shade of cloud-white
As he marveled she heard him whisper,
“What’s inside?”
“A sense of togetherness, the feeling you get when you truly feel at home, and hunger that comes from the first night of a successful dalliance,” she replied. Her eyes fixed on the perfection of the twisting and turning of elements in her hand, “and a wish.”
“What price could I possibly pay for something so brilli — ?”
“All of you,” she interrupted, forcing both of them to extract their eyes from the ring.
Before he could respond, she stood and walked towards the beach, never letting her eyes leave his; urging him to follow. This he did without hesitation. The eternal chase continuing in a new form.
Fixated on one another, they approached the water’s edge, her gown slipping away.
“All of you,” she repeated.
The distance between them became nonexistent as he followed suit, his attire disappearing below the surf.
Their simultaneous climax came as the sun peaked over the eastern horizon.
“What of my three wishes?” he gasped as they lay breathless on the beach, the last strands of darkness bleeding away from the morning sky. The signal that their story was about to start anew.
“They were never yours,” she replied as she began to fade. “They were mine.”
“And you’ve already granted them.”
