You, me, and the Moon

There were two boys who fell in love with the Moon.

It began with star gazing, when they were young and couldn’t really think of much else to do. They each had duties in the day, but found time to go together at night and watch the sky. After making several half-hearted attempts at learning the constellations, they seemingly simultaneously decided that since the Moon was much prettier, and far more consistent, they would just focus all their attention on her.

She didn't have to be a "her" but the boys had picked up the habit of calling all objects "her" from their fathers, who worked with boats.

Most nights as they talked under the Moon, they would throw the odd compliment her way.

"You're as bright as ever!" one would call.

"You're more beautiful than anyone!" the other would add.

As the days and months and eventually years grew on, this habit of complimenting the Moon grew, and was almost competitive. They each confessed their undying love for her daily, and they would say that they only had eyes for her.

Two friends falling for the same person is often a cause for fights, but as neither of them really believed they had a shot, they didn't bicker about it much.

When the boys had become men, one of them had to move away. And so they no longer sat together under the Moon.

I thought that was the last time I would ever see my friend, but I tried not to be disheartened since I could still see the Moon.

I knew that wherever he went, he would also look at her each night, and we would share in that delight even a hundred miles apart.

It was the first night I looked at her alone that she spoke to me.

Her voice was clear and regal, but also kind. For one that had never talked before, she was well spoken.

"Peter says I am as beautiful as the petal of a daisy, floating alone atop a pond. What say you?" She asked me. After a moment of panic - because, really, the Moon was talking to me, for Christ's sake! - I stammered out my response.

"I- I say that you are as beautiful as the first sip of water after a day toiling under the sun!"

"Shall I tell him you say so?" she asked softly. "Or is it enough that I know?" she added, and my heart skipped a beat.

"I... I am glad that you know, but please tell him I say so!" I clearly deliberated over that response. Would she feel slighted that I needed him to know my feelings? Did she wish for it to be our secret? But if she told me what Peter said, he must have asked her to tell me.

She fell silent after that until it was nearly time for the day to break her hold of the sky.

"Peter says that I am more beautiful than any painting of my visage, and that my glow guides him when he fears he has lost his way. What say you?"

"I say that your existence gives me a feeling of home! When my eyes fall on you it takes away all hardships of the day, and I feel a warm calmness that I can't find elsewhere!"

She hummed pleasantly. I couldn't tell if she enjoyed the compliments, or if she felt their sincerity at all, but I would like to believe she enjoyed the talking.

And so a new routine formed between the three of us.

Wherever it was that Peter had gone, we would still gaze at the Moon each night, and compliment her. Now that she could speak, she made it possible for Peter and I to talk again, though not directly, but that was enough.

After a few weeks of this I asked her "how is he?" and I was ready for the usual long wait as she asked him, but this time she answered right away.

"He is well, but there is a coldness," she said. This was the first time she hadn't relayed a direct quote from him. Perhaps this just was her opinion.

"A coldness?" I queried. "Is he not warmed purely by your sight?"

"He enjoys my sight, and is delighted by it, but he must wish to see something more." She didn't sound sad, but I felt the need to console her.

"I certainly do not wish to see anything more!" I assured her. "Your sight gives me the gift of not only seeing you, but seeing each memory I have with you, and each memory with Peter, and each memory of my love for you!"

A long silence fell, which meant she was talking to him now. While I waited, I plucked grass and fed it to a wandering colt, then chewed on a loaf of bread and took wine.

I often would set up a picnic in a field two miles from my estate for these nights, so I could sup with my beloved.

I wondered if Peter was eating enough.

"He says that he is grateful for the memories that my presence gives him, but that memories alone are not always enough in this world."

"And what did you tell him?" I asked, something I had never thought to ask before. I wanted to know if she only quoted my words, or if she shared her views with him as well.

"That is a secret," she said playfully. I laughed.

"Then I shall have to find a secret for you to keep only with me! I will surely find one, and then you must promise not to tell Peter."

"Must I? Very well."

I never could find a secret, though. At least, not for three more years.

Over time, certain obligations would often get in the way of our nights together. Of course, I made time when I could, but it seemed the difficulty was not only on my end. Peter also grew busier. Now, when the Moon relayed our words, it wasn't simply words of praise but also full accounts of how our previous weeks had gone. The shift was gradual enough that I didn't notice at first, but the Moon had become much more of a messenger than a simple object of affection.

I wondered if she was upset by this, or perhaps felt like the third wheel, but I didn’t know how to ask, and what I said instead may have made her feel worse.

“I have found a secret,” I announced, half drunk on the melancholy I got earlier that day after finding a collection of old sketches Peter and I had drawn of the Moon. “You must promise not to tell him,” I cautioned.

“Indeed.”

“I wish that I could see him,” I confessed. “While seeing you is more than anyone could ask, I can’t shake the feeling that I would prefer to look at you with him by my side.” She was silent after that. “Please don’t misunderstand! Your beauty and kindness are more than I can ever hope to express the way I want, even after all these years of telling you. And even now, as you keep me connected to Peter, for which I am infinitely grateful, I feel greedy for wanting more. So, please don’t tell him about this greed of mine. And, though it is too much to ask, please do not think less of me for this, either.”

“I see,” was all she said. Once again, she was silent.

I worried she was telling him what I said, so I began pleading for her not to. I rambled long into the night and slightly into the day, but she didn’t speak again. I was repetitive and probably pathetic at points, failing to justify my own greed while chastising it in equal measure.

The next night there was no Moon in the sky.

The night after, she was still gone. Thick clouds obscured the heavens as they had never done before, and wouldn’t budge. Even if she was there, I couldn’t see her, and she didn’t speak no matter what pretty or pitiful words I threw into the air.

The guilt I felt was crushing, but nowhere near as much as the loneliness. For the first time, I was left without Peter or the Moon.

It had been nearly two months since she left when I had something of an epiphany.

I’d continued to walk into the fields each night, though now only to sit alone in dark silence. I was always wishing to reunite with the two of them, but then, as though bargaining with some unidentified other force, I would ask for just one.

If both was impossible, maybe at least I could see Peter again? Though that was less likely than seeing the Moon, it was undeniably my preference. It dawned on me that I didn’t miss seeing and speaking with the Moon so much as I missed how she allowed me to talk to him, and kept embers of hope for a reunion stoked in the furnace of my heart.

Once I realised this, I had to wonder if it had always been that way. It’s true that as children, the Moon was simply an excuse to spend time with him, but I did gain genuine appreciation for her. Still, though, even when professing my feelings for her, some parts of me simply wanted Peter to be impressed with my word use, or try to one-up me.

It all made sense, but in the emptiest and most useless way. I had no idea where he was, and I couldn’t talk to him without the Moon, who seemed to be done with me.

I clenched my fists and stared purposefully upward into the night. She likely wouldn’t respond, but she could surely hear me, so I called to her for what I decided would be the last time, and gave her a final message to relay.

“Even if I cannot see you, please hear this!” I began. “Tell Peter that it was him all along, not you, that I loved!” I stated as clearly as I could, but my voice trembled over the word in a way it never did when I used it for her.

Just as I unclenched my hands and decided to walk home, a sliver of light illuminated the field. I looked up as the previously steadfast clouds finally rolled away, revealing the Moon in all her luminous glory.

“So he says,” the Moon sighed. “What say you?” I couldn’t shake the confusion until my eyes fell on a figure standing several feet away.

“I say that those words alone made the entire journey worth it,” Peter announced, his eyes firmly on me. I almost collapsed from shock. His face was older, his body broader, but his voice was the same as the last time I heard it. There was no mistake.

“How…?” was all I managed to ask as he walked closer to me. He simply pointed upwards, and once my eyes followed his finger to the Moon he embraced me.

“You must have been lonely. Try not to be too jealous, but I needed her to light my way here, so she had no time to shine for another, not even you,” he explained, his nose rubbing along my neck and his hot breath tickling my skin. “But now things are as they should be. All of us here together: you, me and the Moon.” His hands rubbed up and down my back soothingly before he pulled back. “Really, I didn’t plan to do this, but after you said all of that, you didn’t leave me much choice.” Our eyes met, but I could hardly see him through the fountain of tears cascading over my face.

“Is this… a dream?”

“Not a dream, but a wish” the Moon answered me. “Forgive me for telling your secret, but I have been taking great pains to make this moment happen for years.”

I realised then that she must have always known what I’d only just discovered. And how much did Peter know?

“Peter,” I began, encasing one of his hands with mine.

“John,” he replied.

“How long?”

“Since the very first.”

Well, damn. If I’m the last to know then it seems I have a lot to catch up on to make up for. In the spirit of wasting no more time, I held his face, tilted it into the Moonlight, and kissed him for all I was worth.

At first, the Moon watched on proudly in the sky, but once things started getting more intimate she politely dipped away below the horizon to give us some privacy. Finally, it was just me and him.