The Crystal Ship
You were at the shore. I saw you, down the beach, sitting there, knees together, letting the tide gently stroke your toes. There was a guy there, he had red hair, and he wasn’t as close to the ocean as you. You weren’t interested in him, but you wanted company. By now you are wishing you were back on the boardwalk, with Anna and Grace. You were staying in Grace’s condo all week, four floors below me. I felt guilt at the time for knowing so much about you there. It’s uncomfortable to me. I wanted you to come back to the boardwalk, I wanted to talk to you again like we used to.
Your red-haired friend’s companions have joined him now. They are drinking. One of them, Tom or Sam or something, hands you a beer. You were uncomfortable, you felt vulnerable. I wanted to take you away from all of that, keep you safe, and get to know you again. You smiled at me, as we passed in the hallway, on the last day of the term. You awakened something in me, something beautiful and pure, something I wanted to reciprocate, if you would let me.
You walk away from the shore and toss your cup back into the wind. There’s a crowd of people you know, some your age and some older, standing around in front of the boardwalk. I was in the crowd, a year older than you, and saw you approach some girls your age, who you took photos with. I just wanted to talk to you, if but for a few sentences, to laugh with you, to see you smile and pale blue eyes behind your wavy blonde hair. You looked better than anyone else there that night, and were smarter than most, which you didn’t give yourself credit for, and I hated that. Maybe you wanted to fit in, to not seem so alien and above them. But I know that isn’t who you really are. You’re more.
A cool breeze passes and you look up at the moon, full, appearing to you like some jewel in the sky, a crystal radiating its beams down upon your tan skin. There is a ship, far off the shore, steadily moving parallel to the beach. The moon is slowly setting in the same direction, hovering over your head. You walk away from the crowd and stop at a small pool of seawater the tide filled. By the light of the jewel moon, you study the reflection of your face and body in the pool. You aren’t satisfied with what you see. Maybe you think that your forehead is too large, that your nose looks funny, that your breasts are too small. You’re perfect. I wish you could stay like that forever.
I can still see you from the crowd, and you seem sad. I turn away from you as you walk back to the crowd. You’re closer to me now, and I see you talking to a guy, I think his name is Brandon, and he’s mixing you a drink, and hands you a cup. You drink some of it, standing there with him, and you taste what seems like backwash as you keep sipping. You walk away from him toward the boardwalk, stop and listen to some strangers’ conversation. You ditch the cup as you listen to them, and then walk toward Anna and Grace. You feel comfortable again. As you look down the boardwalk, I come into your frame of vision, and as I pass you, we make eye contact, but nothing more. As I step off the boardwalk, we unknowingly notice the same thing, the crystal moon steadily towing the ship, far out now, along the beach, away forever.
I loved you.
