Urban Picnic

It was a cold night. I had my favorite boots on and I felt okay--no, I felt great with the way I looked. My emotionally and physically long day had been plain out tiring. My fingers were sore from the guitar strings I manipulated, my body shook with the free coffee I consumed in order to over-compensate for my exhaustion, and the thrill of being paid attention to overwhelmed my thoughts. He laced unimportant questions with pertinent ones and sent them to my phone throughout the course of the day and supposed himself to be clever. I knew something was going to happen at six o' clock that Sunday.

I sat in his truck while he talked on the phone secretively and quickly about something important.

"There's no traffic."

I noticed.

My mind flashed back to a couple weeks before when we were trapped in the moving parking lot of the 15 freeway. His face lit up with excitement about some future plan and I realized that this, Sunday night at six o' clock, was it.

"We were supposed to have an urban picnic!"

Urban Picnic (n.): As one is sitting in traffic with nothing else to do, sandwhiches and beverages are to be provided just as a picnic might occur in a grassy park.

I might point out at this point that the music we listened to was everything I enjoyed. Music is my life, my feeling, my expression. We pulled into an empty parking lot as an alternative to the freeway and sat in the back of his truck to enjoy our picnic. The CD came to an end and began to replay.

"Wait. Pause. Stay right there." He leaned over and kissed me and jumped from the bed of the truck to reach inside for the CD.

His eyes fascinated me. They were large annd excited and alive more than ever that night and I found myself willingly sinking into them. I hoped he didn't mind. He then came around the side of the truck and held the CD in front of his face, his eyes just above the sharp edge. I looked down.

"Can I be the boyfriend in your indie movie?"

Words escaped me. I didn't have any breath. I don't think I'm capable of forgetting that face or those eyes (nor do I want to) at that moment. He was eager. He lingered and needed a response. I shook my head. Yes. Yes, you can. Yes, I want you to be. I hadn't felt that safety, that assurance in such a long time. I don't think he will ever quite understand just how much it meant to me to be cared for. After a life of being sat in a corner, of being told cop out after cop out, finally someone that meant the words he said and the actions he presented looked me in the eyes and told me the truth.

He disappeared to put the music back on and came back to sit next to me. He grabbed my hand and looked at me with an ineffable look that.

"Can I be your boyfriend in real life too?" This time I laughed and said, "Of course."

He smiled and kissed me.

"Guess what I just did."

"What?"

"Kissed my girlfriend."

Oh the safety and security in that night just three months ago.

Beautiful.