As I have loved you

I

            I have lived to know a tale of irrevocable love: as endless as the stars, as moving as time itself. I was there, at their wedding, sitting on the front row, as the scene played out before my eyes. I could feel her joy like the first flowers of spring, his steadiness as a river’s murmur. Together they were a representation of life. And I saw the whole thing blooming.

II

Margret knew she was going to hate going to the supermarket, but she went anyways. She didn’t like the idea of wandering around, her unmade purchases laid bare in the bottom of her cart. She would have taken one of the hand baskets, but she knew she couldn’t stock her dorm in something so small. So she got a cart and pushed herself up against it, attempting to appear as small as possible.

She wandered about for 15 minutes trying to figure out whether oats would be nearer to the crackers or the flour. Pushing the cart in front of her, she walked past the cold cereals, looking for the aisle with the cooking goods. She felt as slow as an old lady. Surely there had to be some large bags of flour and oats and wheat, just like her mother used to buy: the big 25 pounders. A bag like that would last at least a year between her and Jenna. But then again, maybe Jenna didn’t like oatmeal, or oat pancakes, or granola. How could anyone not like granola?

Not watching where she was going, she was forced to swerve out of the way of a large case of day-old doughnuts. After realizing she was in the frozen section, her arms gave way to goose bumps. She would just have to ask someone who knew where the oats were. She shivered again and turned her cart around.

There was a man in a royal blue polo two aisles down, stacking soup cans. Making her way ever so nonchalantly towards him, she hugged the edge of the long bin of cold cut meats. He was busy turning the soup cans so that the labels all faced forwards. She wheeled her cart ever more cautiously forwards, gathering up enough courage to speak. It’s just a question about oats; just the oats, not his name.

“Excuse me... I, uh...” She cleared her throat as the man turned around. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the, uh, oats are, would you?” He stared at her for a few moments, attempting to piece together what she had said, then he raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I don’t work here.”

“Oh, I just thought...I see now. Your blue shirt...”

He laughed awkwardly. “I must look like...”

“Yes, yes it does.” Inside, she grimaced in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry.” His face softened a bit, and he cocked his head. “What was it you said you were looking for... oatmeal?”

“Oh, just oats.”

“Hmmm... well, they are probably next to the cereal.”

“Well that’s what I thought, but they aren’t there.”

“Are you sure? I just bought some two days ago.”

“Well, I can look again...”

“Here, I’ll come with you.”

            She paused for a moment, trying to decide if it would be more awkward to refuse or accept. “Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt what you were doing...”

            “With the soup cans? Oh. No I was just, uh, straightening them. So they look nice.” He cleared his throat.

            “Oh, well, alright then.” She wondered what was wrong with her. He grabbed a cart nearby that held a few dozen cans of soup, and pushed ahead of her.

            Her mind tried to focus on the aisle passing by, but her eyes kept slipping to the man in the blue shirt. He had dark blond hair, cut short to hide natural curls. He looked vaguely familiar, but so do most of the people you see at the supermarket. He stopped at the very end of the aisle, looking down at some small containers.

            “Here they are.”

            “That’s it?” There were only a few rows of cylindrical containers; none could have held more than three pounds.

            “Yeah. It’s not much, but it’ll do for a college town. We don’t have a whole lot of selection ‘round here.”

            “Oh, well that’s not... I was just thinking... Don’t you have any large bags? Like 25 pounds or so?”

            He laughed again, seriously amused this time. “What would you want that much for?”

            “So that you don’t have to go to the store very often.”

            “Do you live very far away?”

            “Well, no...” She stopped, realizing that she was close to giving personal information to a total stranger. “I just don’t like shopping.”

            “Oh.” He looked rather deflated. “Well, there are the oats. That’s all they have as far as I know.” He put his hands on the cart to wheel it away.

            “Well, thank you.”

            He turned back around and flashed her a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

            He walked away, passively glancing at the cereal. Margret disdainfully grabbed two canisters of oats. It wouldn’t matter whether Jenna liked them or not, two containers wouldn’t last that long. And it’s just so expensive to buy in small amounts.

III

Joey looked at himself in the mirror. Straightening his collar, he smoothed his eyebrows out evenly. He shaved, washed his face, and combed his hair again, hoping that this time it would go exactly where he wanted it. Giving up, he left the bathroom and, before he grabbed an apple, he checked that his backpack was zipped shut with the zippers on the right side. Finding it satisfactory, he unplugged the toaster, locked the door, and stepped outside. He stared down at the sidewalk as he made his way towards the bus stop near his apartment, being careful not to step on the cracks in the cement. He did this more out of habit than actual superstition. In his opinion, the only bad thing about walking under ladders or breaking mirrors was the chance of having paint dripped on you or getting cut by glass. He arrived at the bus stop at 7:57, leaving the seat at the end of the bench free.

            It was only the third day of the second week of his freshman year, and he’d already found his comfortable niche within his environment. Consistency, he thought, was needed for a perfect balance of time. And the balance of time was needed for time to pass, so that change could occur more smoothly. He’d worked hard over the summer to carefully distance himself from his family and old friends so that the transition would be easier. And so far he’d been able to successfully avoid all feelings of homesickness by letting the time just slide by.

            Eventually, the bus arrived (three minutes late) and he took his usual seat behind the driver. He liked sitting on the left side of the bus because it was the west side and was therefore cooler. (By a matter of 5 degrees, he suspected.)  

            When the bus stopped at the corner of Main St. and University, Joey stood to exit first; he hated being in crowds because it made him feel like a pack animal. He walked to the Keller Science Building trying to increase his stride to make up for the lost time at the bus stop. If he got to the building five minutes early, he would have time to eat his apple before he went in to class. He arrived at the steps to the building only three minutes early, but was able to eat his breakfast by the garbage can and throw the core in with two minutes to spare for the stairway climb to the third floor.

            He started at a trot, but broke into a run as the chimes of the nearby bell tower began to chime half past. Luckily the microbiology professor was frequently late to class as well, and had a clock that was thirty seconds slow. He arrived before the professor shut the door, but not in time to take his normal seat at the front, right side of the room. Instead he slid into a desk at the back of the room. Without looking at his backpack under the table, he was able to pull out his books and laptop. He quickly set up his things and then time was running smoothly again.  

            Directly to his right sat a young lady with blond hair. It was swept back in a ponytail that reached to the base of her neck. There was something familiar about her… She must have felt his eyes on her because she turned towards him, away from the professor who was fumbling with his computer. She gave him an odd reproachful look and squinted at him, not brave enough to smile. Perhaps she recognized him too. Or maybe not. She turned to face forwards, and he soon went back to taking notes.

            As soon as class ended he turned to her, almost expecting her to strike up a conversation to cover for gawking previously. The familiar woman, however, was almost all of the way to the door. Joey grabbed his things and started for the door, hoping to meet her and introduce himself. He made it in time to catch her interest as he came up beside her in the hall.

            “Hi, I’m Joey.” She nodded and then turned to walk away. “Do I recognize you from somewhere?”

            “Well, actually, I’m Margret, and you look sort of like this guy I met at the store last night.”

            He paused for a moment, “Oh, yeah! That’s where I met you… Hey, I’m sorry about that. And now I probably seem like some kind of stalker.”

            “Not really…” Of course that was exactly what she had been thinking, but she didn’t admit it. For some reason manners are more important to be kept around total strangers.

             “Well, it was nice meeting you… Margret, right?”

            “Yes, or Maggie. I prefer Maggie.” She mentally winced at her blunt tone.

            “Oh, okay. Well it was nice meeting you anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled and waved half-heartedly. They split apart as she went off towards the student center and he started for the library.

Joey watched for sidewalk cracks, deftly changing his stride to slip between the lines. He had this pet peeve when it came to new acquaintances; like an itch. He had to get to know them until he could classify them in his mind: random person, best friend, girlfriend, enemy, boss or teacher, and so on. Margret, or Maggie, didn’t seem to fit into any of them yet: he couldn’t place her in a category. So she hung in his mind; thoughts of their conversations mixed around in his head in total chaos.

IV

They didn’t know how it happened, but it did. One day he made the excuse that he needed some papers that might be found in the student center. She helped him find them and they had lunch together. The next day they walked to the library. They began studying together, although neither of them really needed it.

Love happened. They didn’t realize it. It caught the corners of their mouths and pulled them into smiles. Their eyes met across the classroom and restaurant tables; attracted to an opposite pull. It sneaked up on them and wriggled in to the backs of their minds, becoming cozy there. Sometimes it ran around bumping into feelings and causing wrecks on inter-cortex highways. Other times it blew itself up and wouldn’t let them think about anything else. Sometimes it was selfish, this parasite love, but most of the time it made them happy.

Parts of them were lost in the becoming of a pair. Their lonely fears and apprehensions were overridden by holding hands and walking stride for stride on sidewalk cracks and down long supermarket aisles. He forgot the discontinuity in the soup cans; she forgot to hide behind her shopping cart. The world, to them, made sense because it consisted of only one another. Time was reinvented, dissolved into the hours apart and the moments together, like night and day. They became shortsighted, each only seeing the other. Everything else was just scattered light. This opaque world comforted them; it hid them and protected them. To them, it was love.

V

“Come on, Maggie!” Joey hollered down over his shoulder.

“If I was going any faster I’d be tripping over your feet!” They both laughed between short breaths. And they climbed faster.

It had been Joey’s idea to come up this mountain, even though neither of them particularly liked hiking. But a friend of his from sociology had suggested it to him as ‘the most romantic spot there is.’ While Joey was unsure whether or not his friend had been joking, he figured he could always wait another day if this turned into a mess. So far, however, things were going well.

The temperature was approximately 72˚ and it was 7:42. Spring break was fast approaching and with it came the free time to spend together. This had placed both Joey and Maggie in irrevocably happy moods. Maggie had packed them both a simple dinner of bread and cold spaghetti. They planned on waiting until it got dark, and then carefully finding their way back down the mountain by flashlight. (The flashlight was Maggie’s stipulation; she did not want to slip or get lost or, worst of all, lose Joey. Although she didn’t tell him the last worry.)

They finally huffed up the last stretch of bumpy trail and collapsed on a bench. While they were catching their breath they were able to look out off the lookout point. Both were too full of happy blood-rushed thoughts to actually see very much of the view. For a few minutes both of them exchanged idle conversation. Joey finally mentioned that he was a little bit hungry. Maggie agreed, although she wasn’t really hungry. She was more nervous than hungry. Since they had stopped hiking she had noticed that Joey was getting a little bit antsy; she was wondering what was bothering him.

Maggie reached into her backpack and pulled out the forks, bread and butter, and cold spaghetti. She quickly remembered to produce the customary hand sanitizer and napkins. Together they ate their bags of spaghetti in comfortable silence. Maggie would snort the occasional nervous laugh and would then assure Joey it was because she just thought it was strange to eat spaghetti from a bag. She was pretty sure, however, that it had much more to do with the fact that she was nervous.

Joey finished eating first and Maggie told him that he could have whatever was left because she was full. Joey wasn’t shy around her anymore so he finished off the bread and then they both cleaned up the trash and folded it up into the backpack. (Joey’s was perfectly folded, and when Maggie wasn’t looking he went back and re-folded hers as well.)

After sitting in silence for a few moments Joey cleared his throat. “Well… I ummm… You know what?”

“What?”

“We could try climbing up that rock over there, the bigger one…”

Maggie had to admit it would be a change in scene, and more off the beaten path. “Alright. You lead the way.”

Joey smiled grabbed her backpack and headed off towards the rock.

“Hey! I was going to carry that!”

“Not for now, you aren’t. It’s my turn.”

“Sure. Carry it when it’s mostly empty,” She teased.

“Hmmm…. good point. I could carry you instead!”

Maggie’s face turned a little paler, although Joey couldn’t really tell because it was getting dark. “Yeah, No. Not up this rock, you aren’t.”

“Oh, why not…” He pulled himself up onto the rock. “Could I do it after we get to the top?”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I’ll think about it.”

Joey grinned. “Okay!”

Maggie pulled herself up after him. But before they’d walked to the top of the rock, Joey stopped abruptly. He turned around to meet Maggie just as she walked into him. He grabbed her around the knees with one arm, and then swung her up so that she was facing him. She threw her arms around his neck, mostly out of fright.

“Gahh! Joey!”

He laughed. “See, it’s not so bad.”

“Oh, Joey… I feel sort of helpless,” Now that she was totally in his arms, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted down or not.

“We all feel like that sometimes…” He could feel this turning into his perfect moment. “We all feel sort of helpless and lost. Maggie, I used to feel like that all the time… before I met you.” He gently set her back onto her feet. She was sort of disappointed at this, but she could feel something hanging on the ends of his sentences… a little pause. So she waited for him to finish speaking.

“Maggie, I have to tell you that I’ve never felt so complete around anyone else. I’ve never been so comfortable or happy, and I don’t want that feeling to end. You see, I love you.” He reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a small box. Maggie was temporarily paralyzed.

“M-Maggie?” He cleared his throat.

She could only nod and give him an encouraging look.

His voice gained strength as he opened the box and sunk to one knee. “Maggie, will you marry me?” She imagined it was bells that were ringing in her ears. Looking down in the opened box she could see, even in the semi-darkness the glint of a beautiful silver ring with a small emerald on it. She put her hand over her mouth and looked from the ring to Joey and back again.

Somehow she was able to speak through the shock, “Yes, of course I will.” She threw her arms around his neck and he rose to stand again, lifting her up as he went. “I love you too,” she sobbed into his collar.

“Oh, Maggie!” He spun her around once and then set her down again. “This is fabulous! We can get married in the summer…” His excited voice mixed with hers and together they were dancing around on the top of the rock, rejoicing from the top of the world. A world so far beneath them that they didn’t notice it; just as they’d never noticed it before.

VI

Desert looked out over her vast dry skin. Her beauty had worn with age, shrunken by the mountains that blocked her from the seas, hardened by the callous wind. She felt ugly and grey and old. The succulents that freckled her surface were shriveled; the animals wavered in the heat. Pain was ever present on her face. Desert missed Rain.

She remembered distinctly his liquid eyes. She pictured the way they filled with tears when they saw her, in her forgotten, barren state. He would swoop down upon her, angry with Spring for forgetting her once again. He and he alone would bestow upon her the gifts of life and fertility. He would cry for her. Only Rain truly loved Desert, only he had seen her in her beauty.

But he was not here now, not yet. He had a long journey over many high mountains bringing the heaviest loads straight up against every other form of life that needed him. If he spilled a drop, the rest would fall and none of his precious gift would make it to Desert. He carried all of his memories of Desert in his eyes. He could not cry until he saw her. He could not miss her, or he would never make it over the mountains. But this was never easily done, for Rain loved Desert very much, and there were some years he didn’t make it. He would fall onto the mountain and cry his tears out. They would slip down the hills, into the valleys to be stolen by the humans and trees and animals. And she would suffer without him, suffer but never die. And he would know how she suffered, but he could not cry. He must save his tears for Desert.

And Desert had waited for a long time. It had been many years since she had seen Rain, and she yearned to be with him again. But this summer evening, when Desert awoke, she could feel a pressure building over the mountains. A solemn call was sounding through the sky; a thunderous roar off mountains and penetrated valleys. She knew he was coming and with all of her soul she cried to him. All around her and within her there was silence. Most of the creatures were silent because they knew that Desert was talking to Rain, all except the humans.

There was a group of them, milling about on her wizened skin, setting up for a ceremony. Humans, Desert knew, were deaf to silence. They did not understand what it meant. But they would see soon enough; Rain was coming. She would teach them to know beyond their learned ignorance and their false superiority.

She watched a dark sun rise. Clouds boiled up over the mountains as more humans began to gather. It was a wedding; a binding of two souls for only life and until death. The humans knew nothing of immortality, nor did they understand undying love. The life that cycled in her veins was charged and driven by this love, untainted with impermanence. 

            Desert watched the ceremony begin. The joiner was nervous about the darkness, but he didn’t understand it. None of the humans did. But Rain was coming anyway. He was coming and the Desert was gathering her heart to meet him. She would see him again, the way stars touch in the sky. And this would be a memory for the humans, a parable of true love. Which love could never be civilized or broken; never disposed. True love, as Desert knew, was pure and natural; a gift given to perpetuate life. She would show them this love, even if they never saw it.

            She opened her skin. She opened her heart, her ears, her mouth. And last she opened her eyes. And Rain filled her sky. Above her and beyond her and covering her, he took her in his eyes. Rain saw the drought-stricken Desert, and tears fell. Rain fell. He fell upon her. They were one and the same and, for this moment there was only life and love (which are one and the same).  

Rain ran over everything. He blew aside the ceremonial wedding aisle, and instead, there were puddles, spotting the ground with primeval soup. Desert laughed as drops splattered the humans and scattered them apart from one another. They were running away from natural truth. Instead of silks and satins, Rain and Desert wore dirt and tears. It was not a promise to be together “until death did they part.” Rather it was a covenant to always return, the passion to never forget, as long as Earth should go on. Rain’s love for desert was his only thought, his only desire: to care for her, to leave all he had, and take nothing away. He would sacrifice all, and Desert would be young again. Her beauty would bloom brighter than the tropics, and life would be reborn in a way unmatched since the first creation.

The humans watched the rain fall. They watched the thirsty ground pull the water deep inside itself. Rain pounded them as they drove away in their cars. They thought a wedding was ruined. But this had been a wedding of passions that words could not speak, a journey of unparalleled faith. This love was natural, the roots before the distortions of human love.

The bride and the groom returned sometime later when Rain’s tears were almost all spent. They looked around at their wedding scene. Everything was wet. Desert’s skin had been soaked into a smooth mud, the cacti were drunk and swollen with water. The air smelled sweet and humid and for once the humans were silent. They listened to the soft caress of Rain, they saw the darkened womb of the dirt, they wondered at the birth of the natural beauty of the land. Their wedding had been ruined by the passion of a storm, but it had left an imprint on their souls. The humans held one another and could almost remember… remember the time before memories, when everything was innocent and beautiful and pure. They promised to love one another, as the desert loved the rain, until body became soul and blood became time.  

And around them Rain clung to Desert and promised to love with the same passion as he had, as he did, and as he would forever. He promised to return to her, to give her all he had. Wisp by wisp the wind dragged what was left of him away. He called to her, his thundering voice but a whisper, As I have loved you…