We waited four months to be able to see each other. We matched on tinder a week before it all began. Throughout the quarantine, we talked and got to know each other a little bit, but we were both just waiting for the real test together. For our first date.

***

Because we met on tinder and are being cautious we choose a farmer’s market just outside of town. I was nervous and did too many things last minute, which didn't give me enough time to find parking so I’m a few minutes late.

She was excited about the date and was five minutes early. At least she told me that she had arrived 5 minutes early and I made the assumption that it was because she was excited. She recognizes me as I walk over, but I wave to her still that way she’s sure I’m the right person.

I take in the way she’s dressed as I walk up to her. Her hair is down and her makeup is skillfully done in that way that I was never good at. I do okay, and I hope that I don’t look too tired or my skin isn’t too oily. I wanted to wake up early to give my hair time to fully dry before I had to leave, but because of my nerves and excitement I had a hard time falling asleep so I gave myself an extra hour to sleep in instead. Which means my hair right now is close, but not fully dry, and by the time it does dry it will be a little frizzy and the ends won’t be sitting right anymore.

Just before I reach her I take a moment to, a little shamefully, check out her body. It’s moments like these where I don’t question for a minute that I got at least one half of my sexuality right. I like her hips and I definitely like her breasts, which I can see because of her lower-cut top. I had wanted to wear something more low-cut myself, but I knew that my boobs don’t fill them out quite the right way. And the thing about going on a date with a girl is that there seems to be a lot more pressure to look your absolute best. Among girls, it says something when you know how to dress your body.

At the very last second, I worry, since she never called this a date nor specified her sexuality, I don't know if I should go in for an awkward, first-date hug. Because if it’s just a hang-out and she really is just looking for new friends on tinder then the hug will definitely seem just a little bit out of place. But my pre-planned actions are in motion before I have time to fully second-guess. I end up smiling, saying, “Hey! How’s it going?” (not near as confidently as I wanted to) and only raising my arms a little like I’m indicating that I want to hug, but I’m too pussy to actually do it.

She's either polite, or she's thinking the same thing, and we have a quick and awkward hug. This is followed by a moment of smiling while just barely not making eye-contact as my unmatchable social incompetency prevents her from knowing what to do next. And I don’t know what to do either because of said social incompetency.

One of us asks, “so should we get inside?” and we walk through the gates into the farmer’s market. It’s hot and there aren’t many clouds in the sky today. A good day to go to the farmer’s market probably. I don’t know for sure though because I’ve never been to a farmer’s market. She suggested this because I said that I really liked the apple fritters but never really know where to get them. I agreed because I thought the market sounded like fun. A classic place to start a romance with another girl.

I’ve also never gone on a date with another girl before, and that poses a much bigger problem than never having been to a farmer’s market. Hopefully though, I can play off my farmer’s market cluelessness as cute and my lack of dating experience can remain a deep secret. Nobody wants to be a girl’s first gay experience. Even if that girl is past the questioning stage and is now just embarrassingly inexperienced.

For example, we’re just walking around and talking, but I can’t ignore how much I just really want to hold her hand. I bet it would be soft, and because it’s a girl’s hand it would fit so nicely with mine. Whenever I hold hands with a boy I run into this problem where my little fingers are spread too far apart and start to get all tingly and uncomfortable. But I know that wouldn’t be a problem with her.

I try to give those subtle hints that I want to hold her hand. Y’know like trying to accidentally brush our hands together while we walk. I’m well aware that I’m a bottom and that means that I can’t just ask to hold her hand. Not only that, but there's the lingering issue of her never confirming her sexuality. I’m worried about something else too though. I can’t quite tell and I don’t want to mistake hopes for actual evidence, but if she’s also a bottom she’s never going to get the hints I’m dropping. More problematically, if she is a bottom she probably thinks I’m a top.

Sure maybe I can be a little dominant here and there, or I can get impatient and be a little blunt, but I could never pull off being a proper top for this girl no matter how much I like her. And I wouldn’t want her to feel obligated to be a top for me either if she really felt like she was more of a bottom.

I try to be rational though and give up on trying to hold her hand. I need to pay more attention to her and the conversation. That’s where the answers to all my questions lie. The sun is making it hard to think though. Plus it’s highly likely that all the squinting I have to do is not making me look very pretty. She brought a pair of sunglasses that, of course, fit her perfectly so she doesn’t have to worry. I have never thought I looked very good in sunglasses so I’m stuck squinting. But at least that gave me a plan, which immediately helps me feel a little calmer. After we get our apple fritters I’ll suggest a nice place indoors to eat them. This may be a farmer's market, but there are still a few buildings and tents around.

We spend the next 5 minutes walking around trying to find a stall that sells apple fritters. When we finally do, I find myself faced with another challenge. Who pays? Of course I’ll offer, and I’m more than happy to pay for my own at least. I’m fully prepared to treat her too. I love to do kind things for people. I just want to know what she’s expecting to happen. We stand in line and charm each other with conversation and what I would count as flirting, but I worry it's just a regular conversation for her.

When we get to the front of the line I order two apple fritters. For a quick moment, I wonder if she was hoping that we would do something romantic like share one. But the thought goes as quickly as it came because as I'm reaching into my purse she pulls her wallet out of her purse and, with a smile, says she’ll pay for these. I have no idea what to say. Could she be a top after all? If she’s a top then she is officially the perfect woman and I have found more than enough motivation to get my shit together and hold this chick’s hand!

I say a couple of things that are not full sentences, but close enough to get my point across and I finish off with a thank you. We wait for the fritters and I say thank you again when we get them. And, because I have no idea about her social expectations, (I feel like my parents could have done a better job making sure I have normal people manners) I start stabbing at the sweet, deep-fried apple with my plastic fork as we walk. I do have some common sense, however, and I watch the pace at which she eats her fritter and do my best to mimic that.

I end up getting caught up in our conversation and never do find an indoor place to suggest we stop inside to get out of the sun. I’ve gotten used to squinting, and she doesn’t seem to mind it either anyway. Plus I also seem to have gotten used to the light a bit too.

We talk a lot about our interests. I worry that I talk about myself a little too much and try to ask her questions about herself. When the conversation seems to die a little I suppress that awkward feeling and just tell her something about myself so that we can keep the conversation going. I really hope that I don’t sound too self-centred.

At one point I can’t bring myself to just say something else about me and we lapse into silence. But it’s not bad. I finish up the rest of my apple fritter, she had already finished hers a bit before, and I look around at the stalls and people. We walk close together so that people have room to get around us if they need to. We’re not moving very fast after all. Her arm brushes against mine a couple of times and I think about when I was trying to give hints that I wanted to hold her hand. But I can’t do that again because the empty fritter container is still in that hand and I’m afraid I’ll spill some syrup and make it sticky if I move it to the other hand.

Instead, as we reach an area on the edge of the market with picnic tables I tell her to hang on a second as I go to throw out my container. She follows and I realize I’m an idiot because she’s still holing hers and I should have offered to throw it out too. As I said, my parents should have spent more time forcing me to remember my manners.

I say some apology about not taking her garbage and she says it's fine either because she’s polite or it hadn’t crossed her mind either. Then she suggests we sit down for a bit at one of the picnic tables. I’m a little tired from walking around in the sun so I agree and steer us toward the tables that are less populated and a little farther away from everybody.

When we sit down I remember how, on the way here, I had thought that it would be so nice to kiss her at one of these tables today. But we hadn’t even held hands yet. And I had determined before that chances are it’s way too early for us to kiss. Maybe we would have a better shot at it in a less public place. Maybe she isn’t fully out yet. But at the same time, there are so many people here that I doubt anybody has recognized either of us.

Since I have a chance to relax a little while sitting down I realize how much time has passed. We have already been out for more than an hour and all we have done is eat apple fritters. And if I'm honest, that's enough for me of the farmer’s market. But I don't want my time with her to stop. I don't know if she has other plans today or anywhere else to be, but I have an idea so I think I'll give it a shot. Maybe she wants to spend more time with me too? I know of a few walking trails in the area and I ask if she wants to go with me to one of those. She took the bus, but I had my car with me and we could drive.

She's immediately on board with the idea. And I feel so happy. It seems like this beautiful girl was really enjoying her time with me. We walk through the maze of stalls to my car and I run around to unlock her car door first because my key fob has been broken since the day I got it. I feel like a little gentleman for a moment and am glad to have made up for not throwing away her garbage earlier.

I give her the aux cord too to pick the music, but she says she wants to hear what I listen to. What I really want to listen to is her singing along and enjoying her music, but I knew how awkward it would be to sing along alone, and chances are I wouldn’t know any of the lyrics.

So I plug my phone in and give my usual warning about how all over the place my music can be before I press shuffle. Then I pass her the phone and tell her to add any songs she knew to the queue as I drive out of the parking lot.

We end up both singing along to songs off my 70s playlist and rolling the windows down. The entire drive to the trail I'm having mini fantasies about dating her and having those sweet moments together on weekends. There are even a few fantasies with a little more spice than sweetness. Her pushing me against a tree to make out with me. Us getting a little more hands-on in the car.

When I park outside the trail I come back to reality as I shut off the car. I stuff my keys in my purse, grab my phone, and do the whole, “ready?” thing as I get out of the car and walk around to the front of the trail.

Conversation starts again as we get walking. As a habit from the market, we walk close together. I become highly aware of every time our shoulders bump as we walk because it’s fallen quiet between us again. I lapse into peaceful non-thought when her fingers brush against mine and then she takes my hand. Our fingers lock together and I bit down on my lip so hard to stop myself from grinning.

I think she notices because she’s looking at my face. So I look at her and I smile. It's such a good smile too. I hope that she likes it. She’s smiling back and her sunglasses are pushed to the top of her head.

We walk a little way down the trail, but honestly, I think we’re both a little tired of walking. I made the last-minute-decision to wear heels too. And while I don't care that they're getting muddy I do mind the soreness in my legs.

I notice that I'm slowing down a little as I walk, but she is too. We haven't seen a single other person the entire time we have been walking. Which I assume is probably about a half-hour. Then she stops walking entirely and the slight tug on my hand when she did turns me around to face her.

I'm about to ask her if she's tired and wants to turn back, but she lets go of my hand at the same moment and my heart sinks a little. Trust me, I know it’s a very small thing to get disappointed about. And honestly, she probably dropped it because it’s weird to hold hands and stand facing each other, but still.

My hurt vanishes in a second though because she then steps forwards and puts her hands on either side of my face so that she can lean in close to my face and then kiss me softly on the lips.

I absolutely melt.

I can seriously die happy.

I kiss her right back and, like I'm a marionette on strings, I put my arms around her waist and step closer.

Her lips are soft and she's warm. I liked being close to her and I hop she likes being close to me. We keep kissing like that for a bit. No tongue stuff. Just sweet kissing. And when we pull away from each other I don't even try not to grin.

I want to kiss her again. And I do. I'm looking at her eyes and thinking about how I want to kiss her again when suddenly we're kissing. And I have never wished more in my life that instead of standing in the middle of a forest we could be sitting on a couch or a bed someplace else. Maybe someplace private.

After that, we turn around and start walking back to my car. We talk so easily to each other. I know I'm talking too fast and a little too much. But I'm not so worried anymore. We hold hands right away and kept out fingers interlocked all the way there.

When we get to my car I unlock her side first again and let her in before I get into the driver's side. Don’t ask exactly how it happened, but I had only gotten the engine on when suddenly we're kissing again. And I guess the privacy of the car meant she could slide her tongue into my mouth. That was fine though because I wanted it.

She kisses my neck and I slide my hand under her shirt and up her back a little ways. I think she would have crawled right onto my lap if I hadn’t been sitting on the driver's side with the steering wheel in the way.

Anyway, after that, she lets me drive her to her apartment and we kiss goodbye. The soft kind of kiss again that isn't too long, but not too short either.

I chew my lip as I watched her head inside. Then I drive to a nearby plaza parking lot to sit for a second and process everything that happened. By the time I drive away and get home, I can't wait to see her again. Maybe next time at her place?

When I get inside I see that I have a message from her asking if I got home safe. I make sure I'm safe in my room before I answer her because I'm grinning the whole time. I had so much anxiety and excitement just earlier that day when I knew I would be meeting her, but it had all gone so well. None of my expectations prepared me for that.

This morning, instead of driving to church, I drove a loop outside of town and then I came home. And nobody knew it, but me. This was possible because my parents visited a different church this Sunday while I was supposed to go to our usual church. Except, I didn’t. I didn’t want to.

Things have been different since our old paster died. Even then I barely believed in it all, but he was a lot of what held my faith together. Now we have a temporary paster that everyone seems to like. Or maybe they don’t, but the elders’ team chose him and they’re acting as though they like him because he probably is what is best for the church. He has a few different ideas that are revolutionary to the congregation but in a way that doesn’t actually affect their daily lives because they aren’t the ones being condemned to hell.

Anyway, since he’s been there, going to church has been harder for me. For a long time already it was a chore that I was used to and kept up with in order to maintain a healthy relationship with my parents. It’s a small price to pay for peace in my house. And after all, if I have an eternal soul I want to be able to make some sort of educated guess about what may happen to it when I die. Church is about the only place where you can get information on that kind of thing. But, this Sunday, I decided not to go, and you don’t know the amount of space something takes up inside if you until it’s gone and you feel the void where it used to be.

My morning began with the decision already made. I had to convince my parents that I was going to church so I got up at nine am and took a shower. Then I got dressed, and I sat in my car to warm it up. And it was at that moment that I had a conflict of conscience.

It was only a week ago when I had decided, again because I kept changing my mind, that God was real and that church was only corrupt because it was created by people. That didn’t mean that I shouldn’t go. If God is real than he deserves my worship and my love. And how am I to know that not going to church today wasn’t going to start leading me down a path where I forget about him altogether? What if it just makes it too easy for me to never go to church again as soon as I move out of my parents’ house? After all, if God is real then I need to make sure I have a relationship with him for my own good.

There were plenty of times in my life where I was sure that God existed. My relationship with faith has always been like a boomerang being thrown away, but always coming back. And during the moments when I come back, my faith feels stronger than ever. I tell my Lord that I’m sorry and that I’m His and that I’m going to try to do better. And it feels so real. Things go perfectly for me and I feel the peaceful presence of someone watching over and guiding me. I mean, if we’re looking for an example, posts about God never show up on my Instagram feed, and yet, as soon as I have a crisis of faith, there’s a post assuring me that the Lord is there for me and that he will never abandon me. How do you explain that showing up then? Even at times when my faith is weaker, I eventually ask God just to help things be okay, and I feel like I’ve given my problems to someone else who knows how to work with me so that they are. Time and time again I have wondered if God is real, and I have come to the same conclusion that I am not alone in this world and that I could not be this lucky without the guidance of something larger than myself. So clearly, I should just suck it up and go to church.

Then I sent a quick text message to my friend to see if she was in town because I needed somewhere to go to kill time while I waited for my parents to leave. She wasn’t, but that was okay because I had a back-up plan. I pulled out of my spot across the street and just started to drive out of town toward my church. Except, once I got far enough out of town, instead of turning left I turned right.

Now, everybody knows about those social constraints that we all obey so that we can fit in with society. Well, I can be pretty uptight about what counts, and what doesn’t. As a middle child, I have a tendency to be a perfectionist at times. So it makes me very uncomfortable just to do something that could almost be considered breaking a social taboo. All of this translates to if I get a text while driving I am going to ignore it. I am not going to check it while driving, (even though I was on a flat, back road with nobody else around) and I definitely won’t pull off to the side of the road to just answer it then keep going. Except that is exactly what I did.

When I decided not to go to church this morning I had opened up a block of time that, for the past twenty years, I have not had available to me except on the rarest occasions. That was something that I was highly aware of. Especially because the reason I had that time now was since I made it available for myself. And with this newfound freedom comes the question of what you’re going to do with it. I didn’t really know the answer to that question. After all, this is only one day. Only one hour extra that I get. It’s almost nothing. But it made me feel free enough to do small things I never would have done before. I took advantage of the side of the road to send a text message, and on my way back into town I treated myself to coffee and breakfast that I normally wouldn’t have bought just for me, and then when I got home I did the freest thing of all. I peed with the door open.

For a long time going with my family to church on Sunday morning has been something I did because I had to. At the times when my faith was strong, it felt like I was making the conscious choice to go. But if I’m honest with myself, I would be going whether or not I was choosing to. That is especially apparent to me lately because of all the changes going on in my church. I question religion and the truth about God a lot. I find it impossible to turn my back on His existence, but I learned something new today about my religious experience that I had never understood before. That it’s not a one-for-all situation. Religion is a subjective experience, and sometimes the church isn’t the key to freedom. Sometimes it’s the oppressor making you blind to what you’re capable of whether that’s big or just small.

My hands were cold, but now inside my pockets, they become warmer. Though my face is still numb. The late evening sky makes it easy to focus on the things I feel. Like the heavier colours, blue, green, and red, skirting around my feet. They jump up with my steps and weave between my legs. The lighter colours like yellow, and pink float off of me and my dog in mists that trail behind us. Air pulses to the beat of my music and I feel excited happiness alive in my chest. These are the colours of my emotions that accompany my music, and as my happiness swells so do the colours to wash my town and make it feel like home.

What I can remember most about that time was that everything seemed to be happening with the volume turned down just a little bit. Other than that, I remember feeling relief, excitement, and guilt that I hated.

Nobody made a big deal about telling us. He passed away on a cool, early summer night, but the news didn’t reach my family until halfway through the next day. I don’t know how my dad took it. It was his dad that died. He heard the news while he was at work, but he never left. He just stayed on-site and kept working.

I found out after school. I was in my second year of high school and I’d come home like usual and went up to my room. I was finishing watching a show before I started on my homework. I’m not sure when anymore, but at some point, my mom walked into my room and told me what had happened. He was a tough man who had been sick for a while and didn’t like needing help. They had only just managed to get him to go to a hospital the day before his passing.

I didn’t know how to react. I asked when the funeral would be and what I should wear. My mom told me about going to the viewing in two days and then the funeral the day after, and that we would go shopping tomorrow. When she left my room I sat there for a few minutes trying to imagine everything I knew about death. My grandpa had been a Christian man which meant he was up in heaven somewhere enjoying himself. And also meant there was no real reason to grieve for him. Except the problem was that I wasn’t grieving and that I didn’t have any particular feelings of loss that I could recognize.

Truthfully, I had never known the guy well. He could barely talk. You had to listen real close and sit right next to him to make out whatever he said. Whenever I went to his house my sister and I would always play at the park nearby or with his old toys. We never cared. We didn’t get to know him.

The funeral was that Thursday. Three days away. On the first day, I went to school and spoke to all my teachers to sort out the school work I would be missing. I sat in my classes and tried to sort everything out in my mind. I wanted to be completely surrounded by people. The issue with that though was that I knew it was wrong. I thought that I was supposed to want to be alone and mourn and cry for my loss. Everybody else was sorry for my loss. Why wasn’t I?

Eventually, the day of the funeral came. The sun was shining and everything was hot. I was pulled out of school early with my sisters and brother and sent to get ready in my long black skirt and black t-shirt that made me look lumpy in all the wrong places. I did up my hair, put on some makeup and waited, ready, to head off. The funeral itself was boring, which I expected, but it was afterward that I didn’t anticipate. Everybody seemed happy. Family caught up on missed events with other family. People met and talked and smiled. At first, I was angry. I wondered if any of these people even cared about the man lying dead in his grave. I was aware of the irony. I hadn’t been able to feel anything for the death either. It was at that point that I felt a little bad for my grandpa. But those brief, pure moments of unselfish pity were interrupted by another feeling that squashed all the air out of my lungs. What if this were all that happened at my own funeral when I die?

The thought subsided soon and everyone moved on with the agenda. I molded with the crowd. I smiled politely and held a conversation with distant relatives. At dinner, I ate my food without looking around the table at anybody. And then I went home feeling even odder than before.

It wasn’t until that night that things changed. I couldn’t sleep, so I sat myself up to watch a movie. The same movie that would quickly become one of my favourites. There was a young woman who fell in love with a man, they have a child together, and then they have another. All of this happening in their small apartment home. However, on the day of their second child’s birth, the father dies. The mother moves out to the country with her kids and does everything in her power to give them the best lives they possibly can have. And they do. They each chose their own paths to follow. But, this leads the son to leave home. The mother begs him not to because he’s young and she can still help him. But the son knows what he wants. In the end, he leaves and the mother is left crying for her boy, but smiling too because she is proud of him.

It was at that point that I started crying. Silent tears slid down my cheeks and I felt a great sadness in my chest that was directed at nothing. It carried no guilt or shame. It was just a heavy feeling that rolled out of me. And then, after the crying stopped and the movie ended, I felt as if everything had passed. The great sadness came and I went, washing everything clean as it did. I was left feeling empty, but weightless. And I knew that everything was alright, as cheesy as that sounds.

#shortstory #death #memoir

Step down to that rock bellow. It's flat, it will hold you. Step down onto the other. The ledge is smaller, but that's alright. You won't be on it long before you

jump

As high and as far as you can. Those people bellow will look up and wonder what you're doing. They won't know. They won't understand the thrill you will get from jumping. Some of them will be afraid. Others will maybe be jealous they aren't jumping too. Maybe some of them will even try jumping as you will, but none of that will matter when you jump.

You might be able to feel them looking at you, but don't be afraid. You'll soon forget about them. They are not important. All that is important is what you will feel. Freedom.

The freedom that you will feel is something that you will feel only once. It is freedom unlike anything else. It is weightlessness. In the air above everything, nothing will be able to get to you anymore. There will be no fear. No sadness. No shame or happiness. Nothing will hold you back and you will be blissfully in the sky for what will feel like eternal heaven.

Then, when you know that it is time, look down. It's time for the next part of your jump. The fall.

The fall is the reason why most people don't jump. They are afraid of pain and they are afraid of being afraid. But I assure you that you will feel no pain. Do not fear the fall. Do not close your eyes. Let the fall consume you and just feel the rush of it coursing through your veins.

Most people fear the fall, but it's the best part of the jump. The fall will strip your body of every needless thought in your mind. Let yourself do whatever you want to when you fall. Smile. Laugh. Scream. Hold perfectly still or swing your arms round and round. Do whatever you want so long as you never, not even for a moment, close your eyes. Not even to blink. Because then, suddenly, you'll have missed all the fun in falling down,

down,

down to where the ground waits with open arms. To where the earth welcomes you. To the sweet serenity of absolute nothingness.

Now, it's time to jump. Leave all your fears behind and give it a try. I can promise you that it won't hurt one bit.

Sitting beneath a starlit sky atop a grassy hill with the world stretching forever in all directions. Entirely at their mercy and ready for his life, the great beast looked out across the lush valley in front of him and let out a sigh into the quiet night. The world does not yet know him, and he has liked it that way. There is more freedom in being unknown than there is in being known. Even if those who know you fear you or even worship you. Because if people ever were given one gift it was their ability to influence the thoughts of others. However, one cannot be influenced if those who would impart their judgment do not know one exists. For one’s simple existence has never even crossed their own mind.

“Does it seem unnatural to you for an immortal creature to fear for their future?”

“No. Sometimes a human’s greatest peace is knowing that they won’t exist in this world forever,” The woman said as she looked to her father who surveyed the land ahead of him. “Humans are like gods. They know good and evil, and they have created laws to prevent the masses from choosing wrong over right. They are unlike anything ever created. They-” She paused to search her mind for the correct phrase, “were destined for chaos the moment they realized what nakedness is.”

The beast nodded slowly, “It will take them a long time to forget me.”

Or worse, they will corrupt his legacy and never let his soul have the peace it had known before.

The woman looked up at the beast, who stood several feet taller, than her and said, “Peace be with you. You will never again know me as you do now, but I will be with you always. There is no act of man that can take me away from you.”

The beast took comfort in his daughter’s words and closed his eyes to the world for one last night before the sun would rise. And with its light, humans would see him for the very first time.