The Day I Met the Self-Luminous Moon

Richie,

I had never seen a moon shine on its own before.

You approached me while fighting your way through a thick cloud of tobacco-scented smoke, and I realised I had never seen a boy this ethereal before. The way the light emitted by the old streetlight above us coloured your hair a vibrant yet dark brown, the way your eyes contained a look of pure life. The way you captivated me without having said a word. I kept quiet, mesmerised by you. You grinned and decided to be the first one to speak.

“Why do you guys always occupy the best seat in the park when you have never even touched a skateboard?” You said, pulling me back into reality. With my vision having blurred everything but you, I had forgotten I was at the skatepark with my best friend, Sarah. Your words, spoken in a tone I could not quite figure out – were you being sarcastic? – sharpened my sight and unmuffled the loud sound of skateboard wheels racing across the asphalt. I suddenly became aware of a burning sensation between my index and middle fingers, so I took a final drag of my cigarette before I flicked it far away. I couldn’t even see where it landed. I didn’t care; you were standing in front of me, after all.

My vocal chords felt as if someone had poured cement down my throat and left it to dry. My eyes were fixated on you, and I would be the happiest man in the world if this frame was the only thing I would continue to see for the rest of my life and beyond. A singular dimple dented your right cheek as you turned your grin into a soft smile.

Sarah took notice of our silence, and I think she felt the need to finally reply to you. “As if you ever skate. You’re doing the same thing as us.” She spoke. You let out a chuckle and nodded slightly. You had realised your introduction was one filled with hypocrisy, and we detected it. I think you wanted to move past it, because you waved your hand for us to scoot over so you could sit on the bench with us. Sarah and I were both confused, but we moved anyway. You sighed as you sat down, as if you had just finished a 3-day journey to reach this bench and you were exhausted. You reached inside your leather jacket and revealed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You lit one, and even though I have seen people – including myself and Sarah – do this many times, I stared at you like you were doing something extraordinary. Like you were doing something no species had ever witness before. You offered us a cigarette each, and we both took it. And so we sat. We sat and observed. Just us – two best friends and one stranger. We sat and observed the people at the park. They came from different backgrounds, were raised in different ways, were shaped by different cultures and beliefs, they spoke in different tongues. But they were united by one thing, the one interest they all had in common: skateboarding. When one of them fell, the others helped them get back up and try again until succession. And to us, the observers, the ones who created clouds under a cloudless night sky, that was magic. And instead of skateboarding, magic is what united us. Not one of us spoke after the initial introduction, therefore we didn’t know each other’s names nor anything else. Yet, we were content with each other’s company. More than content, even. Happy.

You handed me a napkin containing your number just before you left. I grinned and put the napkin in the back pocket of my jeans as you disappeared into the night. I put the jeans in the washing machine, unaware that the only way I had of contacting you was still in its pocket. Sarah had told me afterwards that I should forget about you. I told her I’d follow her advice, but to this day I still haven’t told her that I had never planned on doing that. Because, Richie, ever since you emerged from the darkness and brought your light into my life, not a day has flown by without you lingering in my thoughts.

After the napkin containing your number had turned into a substance that looked like something used as fake snow in movies, I felt gutted. I thought I had lost you forever. Even though I lived in a small town, the chances of seeing you again were incredibly low. I had never seen you before, after all. How could I even be sure you were from town? Perhaps you came from a place unknown. The idea of guessing your number passed through my mind, but I figured that even remembering one of the numbers – a 4 as the third number – would not be enough. There’d still be ten billion different combinations, and it’d take several lifetimes to get it right. For you, I’d concoct a potion to lengthen my lifespan so I could succeed the guessing game I was considering playing – without a doubt. However, the potion would feel more worthwhile if I could spend that extended life with you instead of merely searching for you.

An angel answered my cries without having said a prayer, because all of a sudden, there you were. You emerged from the night, just like a few weeks prior. I don’t know why, but I stood up from the bench I was sitting on when you were walking towards me. You gave me a puzzling look, and sat down. I followed.

“You’re back.” I said, trying to suppress my smile. I realised these were the first words I had ever said to you.

“What do you mean ‘You’re back’? I’m here every night. You’re the one who has returned.” You replied. You were right. Sarah decided that she didn’t want to hang out at the skatepark anymore a few nights after our encounter. I had to pluck up the courage to go by myself, and that took me a while.

“Why didn’t you call me?” You asked. Coincidentally, I was wearing the same jeans I wore the night we met, so I put my hand in my pocket and revealed the last few napkin ashes that were left. You laughed and blew the little pieces of paper out of my hand.

“I wanted to call you, I really did. I guess the universe didn’t want us to meet again.” I apologised.

“C’mon now, don’t blame the universe. We’re together right now, aren’t we? We must have some good karma on our side.”

“Yeah. ‘The universe reunites two strangers after number crumbled into ashes’, sounds like a proper headline.”

“Strangers.” You said quietly while nodding and slightly turning the corners of your lips downward.

“I mean, I don’t even know your name yet.”

“I’m Richard. Wait, no, don’t call me that. Call me Richie.”

You put your hand forward to gesture a handshake, something I found unusually formal considering our former interactions – well, interaction, singular. Nevertheless, I shook it and simply said, “Lucien.”

“So, Lucien, what brings you here? You know, considering,” You moved your eyes up and down the clothes I was wearing – a white blouse with a black tie, loosely knotted, “all of this. Don’t get me wrong, you look amazing. Marvellous, even. Majestic, if thy will.” I laughed at your choice of words and a quick fun thought of you having a malfunction in the factory of your brain flew past.

“Well, I don’t see your point.” I joked. I knew very well that my ideas of fashion were not skatepark-appropriate, but I wanted to fish more sentences created by a brain misfire out of you.

“I mean, you know?”

“I don’t know.”

You sighed. “What I mean is that we’re sitting on a wooden bench that’s probably been shat on by no less than twenty birds at a skatepark under a highway, for God’s sake. You’re dressed as if you belong in a jazz bar, not on a skateboard.”

“Last time you said you’ve never seen me skateboard before.”

“Well, I might be here every day, but not all day, am I? Might’ve been wrong.”

“No, you’re right, I’m just messin’ with you. But, just so you know, this is my casual wear. And this is a casual hangout spot.”

“Casual?” You looked yourself up and down somehow. “Lu- Lucien? Can I call you Lu?” I nodded. “Well, Lu, I don’t know if you know the definition of ‘casual’, but this is casual.” You gestured towards your clothes. You were wearing faded denim jorts and a white tank top, with a short-sleeved checkered red blouse on top. I didn’t want to admit it, just because it would mean that you’d be right, but you did look like you belonged at the park more than me.

“Whatever, it’s a public space. Let me be.” I sighed dramatically, acting as if I were offended.

“Sure, whatever you want.” You grinned as you spoke your words, ones that usually are spoken in a harsh tone, so delicately. Silence fell, and I realised this was the first time after I’d met Sarah that I had met someone and immediately felt comfortable with them. My regular meetings consisted of many erms and words stumbling out of my mouth. Sometimes the occasional small talk occurred, but most of the time my lack of social knowledge failed me and I kept quiet. Rich, you might be surprised by how well I remember this interaction – give or take a few words or ‘you know’s. But this is because being with you felt natural. Talking to you felt easy, safe. I never expected a conversation with a stranger to feel easy nor safe. But it happened with you. So I remember. Everything.

We met again the next day. And the next. And nearly every day to come. Even when we weren’t together, I could close my eyes and envision you as bright as day. Or as bright as the moon lightening up a clear night.

Richie,

I had never seen a moon shine on its own before. Not until I met you.

Yours truly, until the sun no longer shines,

Lu.