From Dawn to Dusk

The sun was rising into the clear blue sky. In the soft sands that crept down into the cool waters of the lake, two people sat next to each other, hand in hand, looking across the water. Their faces appeared happy enough, what you would expect from such a scene. However, inside both of their minds and hearts there was turmoil, distilled by an unasked and unanswered question. Ten years ago, they had sat at the same place, at about the same time of day. 

They hadn’t seen or spoken with each other since then. They were teenagers those years ago, and could spend most of their summers at their parents’ cottages, both of them working part-time at the lake’s one marina. They had both built up a degree of unspoken expectations of a continuing relationship, as they had become very close to each other. But no promises or vows were made. His parents were recently divorced, so he had little faith in such statements. And she was old-fashioned in thinking that it was ‘up to the man’ to make promises. 

He had once said to her that he loved her. But she had not replied in kind, thinking, but not saying: ‘Those are just words that people say.’. Two sexually-ambitious boys in her past had spoken those words, but had drifted away from her when she did not deliver what they wanted .

Then they got ‘real summer jobs’ that allowed for no weeks off. They lived in separate towns, and neither owned a car. There were a few phone calls that first year, but they disappeared slowly like morning mist on the lake. By the time the first summer apart rolled around they were out of contact with each other. Now they were young adults working full time.. 

Relationships for both of them had begun and ended. Neither felt with these new ones as they had with their summer love of their teenage years, although that was not something that either put into conscious thought. There was just the sense of ‘lacking something.’

Meeting Up Again

That summer the two met up again, quite by accident. Appropriately, it was in the marina in which they both had worked all those summers ago. Both saw, stared, and smiled in slow procession. They both stepped towards the other, and almost hugged when they stood directly in front of each other. Though both had questions they very much wanted to ask, at first all they could say was the other’s name: “Pete”, “Lydia” in that order. Pete then said, ‘ice cream?’, and Lydia smiled and said “of course.”

They both got two scoops of chocolate ice cream in a waffle cone, as they had always done years before. Then they went outside, where there was a picnic table, and sat down to enjoy their treat. Beginning slowly, they both in turn, Lydia first, both told the edited versions of their stories since they last met. Although each wanted to know whether the other one was married, that question was not posed by either of them. Each did listen carefully to see whether a husband or wife was mentioned.

When the ice cream and the life stories were finished, Pete drew upon nerve he did not know that he had possessed, and asked Lydia if she wanted to meet at the beach next morning to watch the rising of the sun over the lake. Without a second’s passing she said ‘yes’. It was what she had been thinking as well.

His nerve maintaining the same level, he asked for her cell phone number, and he gave her his.

The Next Morning

They both arrived within a few minutes of each other. Then they sat side by side, and tentatively reached for each other’s hand, Lydia’s right, and Pete’s left. At first they engaged in ‘safe’ conversation, asking about each other’s family members. But that well soon ran dry.

Next, they turned to pointing out the cottages they knew, and memories that were connected to them. Several sentences began with ‘Remember when…’ This part of their interaction lasted a little longer, and drew out unforced smiles and laughter.

Breaking the quiet that followed afterwards, Pete confessed what he was feeling. “You know that I still love you. No one I met over the last years was anything like you.”

Lydia responded from her life-worn mind, not her heart. “Those are words Pete. You’ve said them before, and nothing happened afterwards. No commitment I don’t want to do that again. It hurt too much the first time.”

Then there was a heavy, drawn out silence. Lydia stood up and spoke again, “I should go now. My parents will wonder where I am. I did not tell them about meeting up with you yesterday.”

She turned abruptly, so Pete could not see her tears, and walked briskly away.

That Evening

It is evening. The sun is just back-lighting the sky, and the moon has risen. In what seems like a shorter time than it is, Pete is looking at the reflection of the night’s dominant light, as it can be seen in a bright circle in its fullness on the surface of the water.

He has spent the whole day at the spot where he and Lydia had shared some time, with a few breaks, of course, for outhouse and ice cream. At first he stayed because he felt that leaving the beach would be breaking with Lydia, however irrational that seemed to the most discerning part of his mind. But then he did it with a purpose, with a goal in mind.

The time had come for him to take the go-for-broke chance he had set for the day. He took his cell phone out of his pocket, took a picture, and sent it to Lydia’s phone. Then he sent a message to her, “I know you worry about my commitment to you. I wanted to show you that it exists. I have spent the entire day here.”

He put his cell phone in his pocket, and waited for a reply. One minute, two minutes, then five, and still no reply. Then he saw a light moving towards him. When he looked towards where it was coming from, he saw Lydia approaching. He stood up, she reached out and put her arms around him and they hugged like they never wanted to let go.