After Dusk

“This beach really is something, huh?”

Martin sighs behind his sunglasses, locs strewn any kind of way over the towel. The sound of waves crashing against the shore nearly drags him away before he can form a response.

“Yeah,” he exhales into the warm, salty air. “Sure is.”

“You think you might wanna come inside soon?”

He crosses his arms behind his head. “It’s still nice out.”

“Well… it’s just…” Andy paces behind him. “Em already said she might not make it tonight, and the rest of the group is already inside playing games.”

“Go on inside. I’ll be there soon enough.”

“Are you sure you can... y'know... get back alright?”

“I’ve been here long enough. I think I know the way back to the house.”

He recalls the path in his head. There are fragrant flowers along it that he’s sure are always covered in bees. He’s heard their buzzing, though he’s been lucky enough not to find out.

“I’ll be back out here in an hour. Alright?”

“Take your time, Andy.”

“Shout if you need help getting back.”

“Got it.”

He waits for her to head up the creaky steps before he breathes with the sea.

Everyone’s been a lot nicer to him since his vision finally gave. They all acted like it wouldn’t ever happen, like if he just tried he’d overcome it. But it’s hard to ignore what’s in front of you. Or taken.

Martin got to enjoy the best of it, at least. For what good it did him.

He got to enjoy the sky and nature and the birds and the city. Got to meet his friends and learn their faces, learn their mannerisms and the way they’d make faces at him when he’d make jokes about his sight.

At least he won’t have to see them holding back their tears every time he bumps into something.

He got to fall in love with a woman so beautiful it almost made him believe he could cure his problem.

Martin tried everything for Emily, everything to save his vision. He spent years committing her face to memory in every way he could.

The first time he realized that she was the one, they had decided to go on a picnic. His vision was much worse by then, but good enough up close. Everything was more fuzzy shapes than anything solid, but the colors were bright as ever in the sun.

She was wearing something purple-ish blue with white pants, maybe. He can’t remember what he was wearing, but neutrals had been his thing for a while. There was their white and yellow blanket, a blue basket, and the green of the park around them and families laughing off in the distance.

Emily worked hard swatting away bugs for them and keeping their blanket clean. “I can’t stand those little things,” she huffed with that cute little southern twang. She never said where she was raised, but she couldn’t hide that part

“They’re just bugs.”

“They’re bees. You’re allergic.”

He chuckled. “I only swell up a little, it’s not that serious.”

“Any swellin’ you aren’t doin’ means I’m doin' my job.”

“Whatever you say, darlin.”

Emily hit his shoulder. “I’m gonna get you about making fun of me.”

“And I’m really scared for the day you do, because you’re gonna have a lot to get me for.”

She huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder and her braids knocked the fork right out of Martin’s hand.

He felt around the blanket for it, and she paused.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She picked it up.

Martin smiled. “I know you’re upset, but that’s a little rude, Em.”

“I’mma have to feed you myself soon enough, aren’t I?” She joked.

“Why stop there? Chew it for me too.”

She lifted the white plastic fork up to his mouth.

“Open,” she said.

He did exactly as she asked.

“It’s not gonna be cute when I have to do it for real.”

“I’m losing my sight, not my ability to move.”

“How do I know that?”

“Give me my fork.”

He went to take it from her, but Emily moved it out of the way and behind her back.

“Nope. I gotta get my practice in.”

“Em, come on.”

“I’ll quit messing with you, how about that?”

Martin wanted to act like he didn’t like it, but there was no hiding anything from her, even then. He’d never been able to say no to her.

“Fine, go ahead.”

What started it, he can’t remember, but in no time they were throwing food back and forth. Her laughter kept him from complaining about the mess.

Then he reached into the basket and felt a flimsy plastic case and flipped it open thinking it was a container of grapes he could use as ammo, and he stuck his finger right into a cupcake.

Emily lunged at him, so he smeared it right on her face.

She gasped.

“Martin!”

While he was laughing, she pinned him down.

Her hair fell down nearly to his chest, thick and dark and smokey like wood. She’d been to a bonfire with some of their friends the night before and the smell lingered.

He pulled her closer too late to notice that she’d stuck her fingers into the cupcake too.

Cake and frosting were spread right across his own cheek and mouth, much more than the dab he’d left on her.

But there wasn’t much for a man to do with a beautiful woman on his stomach.

“I only brought one cupcake, so you’d better savor it,” she warned as she leaned down close.

The frosting on her cheek was white like marshmallow fluff, and it tasted like it too.

She giggled and licked the frosting off his cheek.

Apologetically, she adds, “I didn’t bring any wet wipes. Let me clean you off before the bees come back.”

Martin sat up smiling as stupid as he had probably looked with frosting on his face.

“That’s alright.”

She tore a couple paper towels off the roll she had tucked away in the basket and cleaned off her fingers and the rest of his face. If he could’ve made that moment last forever, he would. Emily got right up close, firewood and ash filled his nose, and wiped so carefully with a hand on his other cheek. Her fingers held him like glass and wiped him off like he could break.

“God, Martin, your smile it beautiful,” she muttered from her beautiful red lips. Her thumb rubbed his cheek, and he smiled even harder. “How?”

“Not as beautiful as yours.”

“As if you’d know.” She poked him. “You’re gettin’ ready to get a cane.”

He chuckled. “Isn’t that mean?”

“Nope.” She pulled back and went digging in the basket again.

When she turned, there was something stuck in her hair.

Yellow and buzzing loud.

“Em, freeze.”

“What?”

He was certain it was a bee that had gotten tangled in her braids. It only took a bit of shaking before it was stinging him and off somewhere out of his sight.

“You’re good to move again.” He put his finger up close to his face to check it out.

Emily grabbed his hand softly. “Baby, what happened?”

Then she saw the stinger and pulled it out.

“There was a bee trying to get you before I could.”

She scoffed. “Don’t go gettin’ yourself hurt anymore, mister.”

“I can’t help it. I live on the edge.”

Emily kissed his finger and curled his hand up in both of hers. “I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I don’t need anything happenin’ to you.”

“It was just a bee.”

“I know.”

Martin sighs.

Waves crash against the shore.

The air is salty and cooling down.

Footsteps come right down the middle of the old, creaky steps down to the water.

“It hasn’t been an hour,” he calls.

“But that tide’s gettin’ mighty high.”

Martin sits up and turns his head.

“I could barely find you in the dark.”

Sand crunches under her shoes.

“Honey, why aren’t you inside with everyone else?”

He can’t help but grin as Emily cups his cheeks and the scent of her citrus perfume gets stronger. Her breath fans over his face and her forehead touches his.

“I was waitin’ for you,” he whispers.

“I’m here.” Her hands clasp around his. “No need to go gettin’ yourself washed away.”

“Random question.”

“Hm?” She helps him stand up off the towel.

“Do you remember our first picnic?”

She sighs, but her smile must be bright.

Did she put on lipstick tonight?

He feels her hair, thick, long, and braided in his fingers.

“Were you reminiscing?”

“Always. I miss your face.”

His hand travels back up her hair to her cheek.

“You’ll always have it.” She nuzzles her face into his palm. “You can even feel the wrinkles as we start gettin’ old.”

He rubs her cheek with his thumb.

“I wish you could see your own face,” she mutters. “Martin, your smile is beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as yours.”

She kisses his palm. “I hope it always is.”

“It is.”