I saw them almost every night as they passed under my bedroom window -- a handsome young couple, wearing easy smiles and glowing bronze cheeks that stretched gloriously over their smooth faces. They were almost undectable as they crossed the street at the intersection. Their voices were delicate and silvery; they spoke in a secret dialect of love and admiration. Her pace was shorter than his, and he adjusted his step every few feet to allow her to keep up without effort. His arm was always relaxed, but firm enough for her to loop hers through his. Their steps were barely audible, but they maintained a steady and drowsy heartbeat.Her laugh warmed the night air. Her shiny little teeth flashed white in the dark. He was pleased with his jokes and grined contentedly. He turned to watch her giggling and overcome by the sight, he nuzzled her gently with his nose and was rewarded with the tiniest of pecks on his vulnerable cheek. I smiled as her adoring eyes pulled away from his face. Ah, her eyes. Perfectly-round orbs of innocence that released an aura of pure trust and devotion. In my own mind, those eyes looked towards mine and were reflected in my very soul.
They would continue down the avenue, oblivious to my observations. Eventually they would disintegrate into little specks, like stars in the evening sky. Each night they performed this ritual, this quiet and seemingly purposeless walk down the street.
Lately, their walks had become less relaxed. His strides grew increasingly businesslike, as if he were late to a meeting. Her steps quickened, but could never meet his and in frustration, she would look pleadingly up towards his face for a sign of recognition, or even a little pity. Concentrated in his own thoughts, he did not seem to notice. Their conversations occured in spurts now, very unlike the steady stream of chat to which they had been accustomed. She did not laugh quite as much as she perhaps would have preferred and the nuzzling and kissing had ceased altogether. She watched the ground move under her feet and once in a while, a little sigh would escape her. I did not peer out the window as often as I did before, but when I did, I studied her expressions with greater scrutiny.
On the last night, she wore an uncharacteristic frown on her face, while his was as impervious and cool as marble. She did not link her arm with his - she had stopped this practice several nights before. They did not even walk side by side. It was as if two strangers, completely unaware of the other, marched down a desolate and barren street. Halfway down the avenue, she stopped entirely and watched as he continued down the lane. He did not turn around or slow his pace. Disgusted, she turned around and retreated into the darkness.
Tonight I am perched once again by my windowsill. I am both eager and sober in my anticipation of their nightly stroll. I had waited in vain last night, as neither emerged from the dark street to walk. The regularly appointed time came ... and went. I sigh, disappointed and am about to pull down the shade and go to sleep when I detect the faintest of movement from the end of the block. I hear her step in my heart before my ears detect the sound of her delicately sneakered feet on the cool pavement. She is alone. She walks without remorse, but also without happiness. She merely walks. My heartbeat thuds heavily with every contact her foot makes with the ground. My mood matches her melancholy expression but my mind is flooded with thoughts, with intense curiosity ... and with utter emotion.
My entire being freezes when she stops directly in front of my window and looks up to the second floor. I draw back from the screen and retreat into the relative safety of my room. Her gaze does not falter. She knows I am here. Do I dare? Could I possibly ... ?
For what seems an eternity, I labor to travel back to my perch in front of the window. I stretch my neck forward so the light from the street lamp can shine on my face. I reveal my eyes to her. They do not judge, they accept her image and stare unblinkingly back at her vulnerable visage.
She blinks finally. The trance is broken. She half turns to continue walking down her usual path and stops again. Looks up at me. I have not moved. "You coming?" her lips read. She turns and begins to walk ... very slowly. I jump up, shove on my sneakers, rip my jacket off the hook and take off down the stairs, thirsty for the night air to enter my lungs.
E.Lin
6/27/00
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