Page 15 of Be My Summer

Hands graced knees.

Fingers wrapped around waists.

The glorious sight in front of me led my hand in the air as I recalled every word. Saul’s body pressed into mine as I leaned forward, remembering life was worth living, even if the person who created it for you thought otherwise.

“Girl you working with some back yeah– you bad, yeah,” Saul rapped as I tried keeping up with the notorious beat.

Like that.

Pressed against one another.

Belting the words to old tunes we all loved.

In pure bliss and unaware of what was truly happening around us.

We celebrated for three hours.

Nonstop.

I got lost in the music. Lost in Saul’s presence. Lost in the beautiful people around us. Lost in the world we quickly created and retreated to.

Just him and I.

Just us.

It wasn’t until I reached the midnight air that I noticed so much time had passed and that the vintage Chanels were no longer comfortable.

“You alright?” Saul asked, squeezing my hand a bit tighter as we walked toward his truck.

I shook my head, still reeling from the night. “No.”

“What’s the matter?”

“My feet hurt.” I chuckled. “But, at the same time, I can’t feel them.”

My body was in the air, and my belly rested on Saul’s shoulder before I had time to comprehend what was happening. I dangled in the air as he continued to his vehicle.

“Are you serious?” I giggled, enjoying the feeling of being in his personal space.

In his hands.

In his arms.

“I’m dead serious, Summer.”

I quieted down, allowing Saul to exercise his masculinity while emphasizing my femininity. Darkness surrounded our hearts. The weather was a mixture of perfection and unpredictability.

There would be no rain, but still the chance of it made the clouds sag with uncertainty. A slight wind whistled, stirring up swirling piles of fallen leaves and dust. And the summer silence lingered, waiting to kiss fall upon its entrance. The warmth of its welcome would ruin and reunite me simultaneously. The first day of fall was the first day of my motherless existence.

We reached the truck. Saul opened the door and placed me on the edge of the passenger seat. My feet were in his hands, avoiding my protests. A shake of his head let me know that we were far beyond the point of words, and regardless, he would continue chasing my comfort.

The shoes were neatly placed on the floor. It was my right foot that he began with, squeezing it tightly as he kneaded into my heel and along the top. Sighing, I closed my eyes.

He moved along, taking the left foot into his hand. He massaged it just as he had the other foot. I opened my eyes to find him gazing at me, trying to gauge things beyond his knowledge.

“Feel better?”

It was one of the things he was wondering.