Forgotten

When we part, Luke’s eyes stay on mine. The moment is more intense than even he knows; I look away.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Was that bad?”

Quickly, I meet his gaze again. “No!” I say a little too loudly. “Not at all. It was amazing.” I’m glad to be in the dark; I can feel my face flush.

“Good,” Luke says. “Because I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” I reply with a grin. Maybe it’s the acknowledgment of the situation, but at once I feel silly. Luke might, too: he eases onto his back again, careful to leave room for me to cuddle close.

There’s an awkward silence again.

Until I throw a rock through it.

“So elsetime… I think my name was Heloise. Or Elizabeth. No, I’ve got it. I was Caroline.”

Luke waits a beat, and then joins the game. “That’s a good one,” he responds earnestly. “And I was Benjamin.”

“Or William,” I interrupt.

“Oh yeah, that’s good, too. I was William. I was a stonemason.”

“Of course you were. And I was a housewife raising our three children: Eliza, Mathilda, and…”

“Rex, after our pet dinosaur.”

“REX?” I screech. All of the happy nervousness jumps out of me at once; I burst out laughing and can’t stop. I am delirious. Luke laughs with me for a minute and then calms himself and stares in awe as I curl into a ball and nearly hyperventilate. By the time I’ve composed myself, I have tears streaming down my cheeks, and my stomach muscles ache.

“That funny, huh?”

Residual giggles sneak out of me as I unfold myself and smooth the blanket back across my legs. “Pretty funny,” I agree. “Or maybe I’m just easily amused.”

“Cheap date,” he teases. I lean over and playfully punch him with my left hand, which he grabs and holds for safekeeping.

“You’re surprising,” I say, looking to the sky.

“How so?” he asks.

“Most guys don’t make up stories like that,” I say quietly, thinking of the boys and men I will encounter in my lifetime. “Especially not guys who look like you.”

“Well, most girls who look like you are prom queens,” Luke says, matching my tone. “But you seem to avoid the spotlight. You have one good friend, and you do your own thing. I like that about you.” He kisses my knuckles and it sends a spark through me.

“Where did we live?” I ask softly, gently removing my hand so that I can lie flat and get comfortable. I scoot even closer to his side, if that’s possible. “Let’s see… I believe we lived in… Ireland.” I’ve answered my own question.

“Oh, right,” Luke agrees, clearly okay heading back to make-believe. “And we farmed potatoes.”

“We were busy,” I murmur, feeling exhausted. The emotions, the laughter, the warmth of Luke’s body, it’s all weighing me down now.

“Yes, we were. Very, very busy.”

“I had red hair,” I continue, so comfortable I feel like I’m in my own bed. Of course, Luke wouldn’t be there with me, so I’m glad I’m here.

“You have red hair now,” he says.

“I think I’ll always have red hair.”

“I hope so. It’s one of the best things about you.” Luke’s words are garbled and I’m spellbound by the even tone of his voice and the vast blackness of the universe above.

“Thanks.” I speak in a barely audible tone.