On a Full Moon

On a Full Moon

Mother said he kicked, and she knew he would be difficult. He said please don’t worry. Sometimes she cried and then he didn’t good. Mother would cry for hours. And before she went to bed, she cried some more.

He would say, please hon, stop, you’re okay.

But she didn’t listen. She cried. And she was restless, and she wished that the baby would not come. But it was coming. Mother’s belly was getting bigger. She didn’t it and he would catch her looking in the mirror. And sometimes before she slept, she would rest her hands on top of it and feel it kick. Then she would take her hands off. He layed beside her. Mother would hold his hand. Because now she was scared. And she wanted to know that things would be all right. So she looked at him. Sometimes he would be sleeping, and sometimes he would look back. And when he looked back, she felt good. And she forgot about it. Because Mother knew he was there.

On certain days they would go to the shore and stand at the parts where water touched their toes. At this time it was winter and the water was cold. It stung at first but they turned numb to it. They would look at each other and smile and be giddy. It would remind them of their past. He would sometimes hold her. No one would be there but them. As far as the eye could see. No one was there except for them. They could see the outlines of white boats from far away off the shore. And she could hear the white bubbling coming from the waves. She especially liked that. Its mist would shower her and she felt like a young girl again. Her eyes would be closed. Sometimes she would even open her mouth to taste it. She breathed heavy, and could hear him breathe as well. She took a step closer, and then another. Now the water would touch her ankle. And she felt beautiful again. She opened her eyes and looked to the side. He stood two steps behind. So she reached for him. But, he didn’t extend his arm.

It’s too cold.

You can do it. She smiled.

I won’t.

Just to your ankles.

You know, she said, I think it knows we’re on the beach, it doesn’t kick when we come.

He chuckled and they said nothing anything after this. Nothing would be left to say, because they did not want to talk about the baby. They tried to forget. Life was no longer a matter of simplicity for mother, or the man. This is why choices had to be made. And difficult choices as well.

The moon would come out before too long, and it was a full moon. It was big and bright. It lit up bright all around and they could see each other clearly. Now there were voices coming from behind them, but it didn’t matter. There was no hiding anymore. The two would step back and sit on the sand. It would stick to them, but they paid no mind. The moon would be so bright. But she could feel it kicking now and it was uncomfortable. He could see it was. She wanted to lie on her side but it would look too funny.

We should leave, it’s late, he said.

So mother and the man would get up and leave. Slowly they walked away from the sand, and the water and moon. They got up and left because they were tired now.

The room was pitch dark. He had packed his bags the night before and hid it under the carriage where it would sleep. He was ready to go now. She slept so softly and maybe she was dreaming something nice. But he had to go now, and he wanted to say sorry. She would not understand. He looked at her belly and how big it had gotten. The man thought about the future and it bore little. So this was when he knew he would leave. But he decided to look with his heart again. And he saw her face layed out for him, eyes wide open. Her body in such a way, it was as though he were looking at the stars, and moon. But no light came. Only once had the man seen his past and a future all together into one. Legs and arms sprawled all around. Mother was telling him something. She was telling him to stop maybe. Her body, slow now. He moved closer to her but she had left already. The man sat down at the chair next to her making sure to not look anymore. A shiver climbed up. Suddenly, remorse filled the man.

Should I kiss her? He asked himself.

White covers draped Mother. He was still a young man, what reason did he have to stay? No reason, surely. But she was a fine girl. The man made sure to be quiet, and to not think. His life was not all over, he had not all gone. He wasn’t a bad man. Many years lay ahead. Many moons lay ahead.

Beyond the room they inhabited. And over waves hitting the shore. Past the horizons so many have. Through the fog that sits upon men and women while they sleep, and speak, and dream. There lives but a single man sitting, looking out. Guardian of his own. Protector of nothing.