It wasn't the darkest night

We both looked only forward, with occasional glances towards the lights of the city reflecting off the ripples of the water. Talking of many things, and of nothing... our minds forming questions we hadn't the courage to ask... fumbling for words, colliding sentences, nervous laughter... And we simply kept walking. I knew her.. intimately. I knew all of the things she thought I didn't, all of the things she wanted to say but couldn't, I knew the essence of her spirit, the depths of her soul.. She had caught me up in the whirlwind of her thoughts, in the torrent of her unshed tears. I knew her pain and her joy, her achings and her fear. I wanted so much to tell her that I knew her, and that I wasn't afraid. And yet I only walked, answering questions, posing my own.

We came to the docks, walked along the wooded planks.. laughed at the prospect of the perilous boards giving way and drowning like rats in the frozen depths of the river. We sat, cross legged, side by side, staring out at the water.. our arms wrapped tightly against our own bodies as the fall winds blew the scents of the city and of each other against our faces.. filling us with the knowledge that we really were here, and together.. and alone. That thought plagued my mind with a mix of pleasure and with feelings of anxiety and intimate vulnerability. I wanted so much to tell her everything that was in my heart, to release the flood of emotion that had been building for so long. But it wasn't the time, and I knew that doing so would send her too far into herself and her fears of damnation, hellfire and brimstone.

She was a "godly woman"... an older woman.. and I, a child, barely considered to have reached the standards of adulthood, living the so-called "sinful" life of a woman loving woman. She was my friend, my confidant, my living diary.. into her I poured my woes and my joys. I was, to her, a mystery... that one so young should posess a depth of spirit matching that of her own and people twice and three times my age. She looked at me with both admiring and puzzled eyes... that lacking experience, I knew the ways of the world and the nature of man for the beauty and beast that it was.

Our differences added to the complexity of our friendship and our spirits and intensity of emotion to the depths of our connection. The time we spent together was never filled with laughter and frivolity, but with a yearning to know each detail of what made us who were, and to know the answers to each and every question it is possible to ask another living being.

We had achieved a level of intimacy matched only in love and passion, and yet our only physicality was an occasional hug goodbye or a gentle touch on the arm to emphasize a statement. And I was so very in love with her, my heart was filled with so much,... so much pain, so much passion, admiration, respect... so much longing. I wanted to take my knowledge of her, my trust in her, my love for her and envelope her in it. I wanted to wrap her up against the world, hold her to my breast and coddle her, kiss her sweet forehead, smell her sweet hair.. to simply feel her in my arms and hold her forever, protect her from all harm. I wanted to tell her that she was the most beautiful thing in the world to me, that the mere thought of her filled my entire body with so much emotion that it formed actual physical pain... and that I would spend every moment of my life holding her in my arms if it were possible. And yet I only sat there next to her, staring out at the water, talking of life and it's trials and tribulations.

She was scared of me, and more than that... of herself. She had been taught to believe that man and woman were all that was acceptable and that any variations thereof were an abomination to the God that she loved so deeply. I knew her pain because I, too, had lived the lie.. spending each night of my childhood praying for a miracle.. to wake up "normal" and "saved". She had spent her life alone, loving no one, no man, no woman... only God. And here I was, 20 years her younger, touching that place in her heart she had so long sheltered and hidden away. She was terrified, and yet, could not bring herself to let my presence fade from her life. I knew all these things without her telling me.. and I refused to let myself cross that line. I wanted only to bring her joy, never pain, and I could not let myself become a hindrance in her relationship with her God. I knew that if she was ever to admit to herself her true nature, that the process would be slow and agonizing, much like that of my own. It was her path, her journey.. and I demanded of myself never to lead, but only to follow, support and love her. We could talk of everything but that one forbidden subject... those three words that meant everything and nothing. I knew she loved me as I loved her.. and I believe she knew I loved her too. And so I rested in the knowledge that I had her love in the only form she could give to me, and I gave to her the same.

We talked for an hour or more, and then fell to silence... the wind had given way to a gentler, warmer breeze and I let my arms fall from my waist to the planks below me. We sat together in the stillness, tossing bits of stone into the water and breathing in the sweetness of the night air. To be with another person without the burden of speech is, perhaps, one of the most beautiful and intriguing experiences of friendship.. and rare. Each word she said was a gift to me, and each moment of silence, equally precious. Just to be near her was enough to send my heart racing and calm it in the same instant. I lay back against the wooden planks, tucking my jacket up beneath my head and laying my hands against my sides, staring up at the stars... she followed suit. We lay there, side by side, listening to the sound of each others breath and scanning the night sky for the brightest stars and the deepest black... and I felt her then... a gentle touch.. a slip of her finger an inch closer to mine... My heart raced and my eyes began to water... an inch closer.. and then our hands were joined.

We lay side by side, fingers entwined.. and said nothing. Our hands tightened their grasps, our knuckles white with both fear and passion...

There were no gentle caresses, no stroking of skin... nothing but urgency, desparation and something deeper, sweeter... something like need. I turned my face to her, and I saw tears sliding down from her eyes, wetting her hair.. and my own tears followed her lead.

It was then that I let go of her hand... I wiped the tears from my eyes and cheeks, I stood.. and I walked away. She lay there, alone on the dock, never moving.. her hand where it came to rest... and she wept. I whispered to the wind "I love you...." and I heard it echoed back to me as I left. We never spoke of that moment again... but it was that moment we made love.