She is beautiful.
We parted from our kiss, letting the sunlight streamed on our faces. This was a very bright morning full of good omen. Sasha’s idea of a picnic suited for such a picturesque day and the location she had chosen was splendid. She tried to take a snapshot of me looking nice, no way was it going to happen, I never look nice. We sat on the blanket and stared out into the ocean in silence, the soft breeze carried her delicate fragrance to my nostrils and I longed to be closer to her. I moved my body closer to hers and rested my head on her shoulder, she bend her head over mine and slipped her arm around my waist. I felt protected.
“How was it in France?” she asked me, playing with loose strands of my hair. Occasionally she would twirl my red highlights on her finger.
“France didn’t get as beautiful sunsets as Australia does,” I reply, playing with my toes, “the people were cold and serious unlike here, they are warm and caring.”
Sasha laughed, “I meant your life back there.”
“Oh,” I hesitated in telling her, “just the life of an average teenager. I went to school, missed most of my homework, and fought with my parents about the correct way I should talk, dress, and look. Oh, and, I missed prom purposely to do my highlights.”
Sasha laughed once again and pinched me in the cheek, “you did have an interesting life!”
I gently pushed her hand away and dive my fingers to the side of her slender body, tickling her. She fell on the sand, laughing, and tried to free herself from my fingers. “How about you Miss Tillman?” I stopped and let her catch her breath, this was a very important question for me, I had to know whom I was giving my heart to.
“I studied performing arts and fine arts at the university, graduated with honors if I may add,” she winked and grinned. “I started many painting for various clients and did quite well, one stormy night…”
“Sounds like a novel to me,” I interrupted a wide grin on my face. “Too perfect to be true.”
She laughed, “Believe, my life wasn’t perfect back then. So, as I was saying, on that night I stumbled into a gallery and it was just about to close, inside an exhibition had been taken place, it displayed photographs of landscapes and people being just people. It was as if the camera captured that beautiful moment in life and preserved it forever. The next day I bought a camera.” She raised her arm and focused the camera on my face, she clicked on the button and I heard the snap. “Beautiful picture.”
I let myself be pictured; she made it sound so beautiful and attracting. “I have something I’d like to share with you,” I reached in my back pocket and retrieved a small, wood cover plate harmonica. I toyed with it gingerly in my palm, “nobody ever knew I could play it.”
“Why not?” Sasha stroked the varnished wood with her fingers.
“Art has always been my escape from this world,” I responded, “but music has always been my anchor.” Our eyes locked on each other, “through art I think I’ve found the most important person in my life.”
“Aw, sweetie,” Sasha said in a soft voice, she then turned to the harmonica. “I want to hear you play.”
“As you wish madam,” I said and placed my lips on the mouthpiece, I blew air into the small instrument. I closed my eyes. The sound emitted by it made me recall of my endless nights on my roof playing soft and sad tunes in company of the moon, constantly telling myself that tomorrow would be a better day. The tunes were exactly the same, but this time Sasha was here to presence it. After about five minutes I stopped playing and looked up to Sasha, her eyes were moist. I pulled a face of disillusionment, “Aww, come on! It wasn’t that bad!” I exclaimed, “Well, at least not bad from somebody who learn from a webpage.”
Sasha smiled and blinked back the small tear, “Cerice, it was beautiful… and depressing.”
I shrugged, “well, that’s the way I am… or rather was.”
She took my hand, “I truly believe you are more than you think you are. Just let yourself explore those feelings and things you thought weren’t possible.”
“I am,” I said in a soft voice and leaned on her to kiss her. I felt a different color falling on our bodies; nature was announcing the setting of another day. Our lips parted, and I kissed her once again, taking her face in between my hands.
“We will miss the sunset,” Sasha whispered, nibbling at my lips. “Let’s go.” She pulled away gently and stood up, pulling me along with her. We took off our sandals and stood in the warm sand, watching the sun making its descent, hiding behind waves. The colors were absolutely beautiful and breath-taking, inviting any artist to rejoice in its beauty.
I heard Sasha’s camera again, I turned to her and she smiled. “I did it,” she said, “I took a picture of you looking out to the sea.”
I smiled warmly and took her camera with my hands; I focused on her face and took the snapshot. “I wished I could capture this moment,” I said.
“We could always revive it another day,” she offered, slipping her arm around my waist and holding me close to her. I wrapped my arms around her shoulder and caressed her smooth skin.
She is perfect.