No 4: FAST DAYS, SLOW COMPANY. THE WEST, THE SUN, AND THE ATTEMPT.

IMAGE BY LUCIA AUERBACH

LUCIA AUERBACH

“This is” an optimistic “story and I apologize; it was inadvertent. But I want it clearly understood from the start that I don’t expect it to turn out well.”  

The first time I ever knew love was in the ocean. I was an unrememberable age and nothing else in the world could possibly draw my attention away from the feeling that would hit my stomach when I submerged my head under a wave. A pang of anxiety hit my stomach and I would quickly jump under and squeeze my eyes shut. The wave would swallow me whole. It would throw me up, almost breaking the surface, then send me catapulting back down. Two fluttered kicks and I would return to the salty air, throwing my hands over my hair and face and wiping away whatever residue remained, just to dive in all over again. I first fell in love with the 

waves. 

I didn’t fall in love again for a decade. I spent my days alone and did not know any other touch besides mine. I read love stories and watched romantic movies and fell in love with being someone’s other. I found my other when I was fifteen at a school bonfire. I found my first love in the flames. It burned as quickly as the wood that the student council piled together. It burned as many people as a small wildfire does. It left me with five scars. I first fell in love with the

fire.

And I haven’t known love since. I’ve met aloe vera calming gel, ice compression packs, hands large enough to cover the scars, and smiling faces that made me forget. You asked me to write something optimistic and here I am now. Talking about scars. But you’ve been in the sun all day. I am writing in Malibu Country Mart under a sky full of clouds and humidity. My hair is tied back because the air keeps expanding it. I think you could be a wave, I think you could swallow me whole, and I think I would want to do it again. So for you, I am going to see about the 

sun.

I met you again when the sun was sleeping. My sobriety made my legs shake and the cars that drove by made me ache to get into my own and drive home. In a fit of restlessness, I got up and your trademarked charm cast me still. You passed by me and by a chance of a god that I don’t really believe in, you caught me. Time decided to seize and we lost ourselves without a plan. We found ourselves in a house that could house a small village. I swallowed my pride and all I wanted to say to you was hello. Three men came up to me that night and all I wanted to do was say hello to you. All I wanted was to say hello. All I had ever done for years was say hello to you. But you did more. We lost ourselves in smoke and various American brews. Men with their futures laid out for them played pickleball and women clung to their dresses in 50-degree heat. All I could see was you. All I wanted to say was hello and you took the curtains in my head and yanked them open to let the sun pour in. I did not know that I would be afraid of the sun after all these years.

I found myself whistling on the way home. 

They say that women with a past tend to scare the loves of the future. I do not think I scared you. My hands formed an invisible prayer under my chin and I begged myself to not ruin this for him. I sat with my chin in my hands listening to your stories of stars as you made the whole sushi restaurant decide to fall into like a wave too. I do not think that time exists, that only clocks dictate our world. I do not remember what I was trying to prove to you. But we said more than hello. The time decided to stop working and I became lost. The rules of the world did not dictate our trajectory. Green lights meant red. A beautiful, simple, hello meant to stay for a while. 

The sun came out as I started to write about you. 

And this isn’t a love story. Not yet. Maybe it won’t be. But it has been a lesson for me. I believe that everyone learns something every day. You have taught me that I am not scarred by fire. I can grow like a sunflower out of it. Like you have. You have grown like a sunflower throughout your slightly longer life and you saw the stars. I wonder if the stars are your waves. I wonder if white flowers are your green trucks. The sun on your skin warms your already warm heart. It grows arms and legs and embraces the world around you. It kisses every flower’s forehead and I don’t want to talk about anything anymore. I want to witness the world through your 

eyes. 

I will kiss your eyelashes while you sleep and smell your scent in a bookstore and until I can have more stories with you, this is your optimistic tale. 

I don’t really mind that you are not the only one seeing this story. I have also learned that secrets are not my strong suit. I don’t think I have enough words to describe you yet. But I have some rhythm and some feeling and I think that great art is created in a moment and I believe that time and numbers and concrete ideas are for fools. I don’t feel like a fool around you. Without even trying I am starting to smell waves, and the fire has moved far away. There is no 

smoke.