chaise-longue

SHORT STORY:

SPRING 2017: CHAISE-LONGUE:

Their minds drifted. Both realised how devastatingly alone they are.
The sea was generously unfolding in foreground and the outlines of the nearby islands were
redefined as the moon was back-lighting them.
He sat deeper in the chaise-longue and put his feet on the wall. It was quiet.
In anticipation of the landscape to be kindly attacked by the diffused moonlight he
wondered what should be the next spoken word. Could he say anything that could match the
magnificence of this view?
She was not as taken by the view as he was, and yet she was able to perceive the importance of
this moment of delighted anticipation. As she turned her head and looked at him her gaze caught
a figure approaching the house. She could not yet make out who it was.
Only moments later she could make out the stride and outline of the man. She recognised him
and immediately felt conscious that he would not approve of her choice to look at a random
person walking rather than admire the moon rising.
She turned her gaze onto the moon by which time it was hanging exactly at her eye line. With the
corner of her eye she was aware that the man had changed direction.
In just moments the landscape had changed, they were no longer sitting in the dark. The bay was
floodlight by melancholic silver rays. Shadows started appearing, and began the slow dance of
responding to the moon. She felt the cool fragrant breeze of the sweet smell of the night’s
humidity on the disregarded seaweed on the seashore.
Both unsure if this moment would be made memorable in silence or showered with words, they
each waited for what seemed forever for the other to speak. Silence prevailed momentarily!
She let her head drop back and counted up to sixty, she then said in a low voice that sounded as
if it was not her own:
              -do you think that across the bay the seaweed smell the same?
He was not prepared for any words to interrupt him but he responded:
              -there are no seaweed on the other end of the bay, the currents only push them out of the
water this end!
He had changed his position by straitening his spine and turned towards her. He was stretching
like a cat by pulling his arms up one at a time and flexing his feet one at a time. He stood still
and the canvassed chair stopped complaining. The moon was way above his head and he had to
re-adjust his viewing position.
She was starring attentively at the hill ahead, the one with the single tree almost in the middle,
the colour of the soil was again as if it was daytime and the silver melancholy was replaced by
the electric pollution.
He got up and looked straight at her with the sea continuing her eternal motion. He wanted to
speak about his disappointments and all that he wanted of her. But as he caught her eye he
quickly adjusted his t-shirt and opted to say what he paradoxically felt at the same time.
- you look beautiful in this light.
She was not ready to hear his voice so she smiled, just for one moment.
The man reached the tree on the hill.
                                                                                                                                                     e.c.vazaka
'the landscape to be kindly attacked''the landscape to be kindly attacked'
(2017)
'silence prevailed momentarily'
'silence prevailed momentarily'
(2017)
'she smiled, just for one moment''she smiled, just for one moment'
(2017)