constellation. In Chicago, all that’s visible is a neon glow. Light pollution, they call it.”
Gabe stopped walking, withdrawing his hand from Carrie’s light grasp. “I wasn’t talking about the night, although it is rather nice. I was talking about you, Carrie.”
Carrie felt uncomfortable. Half laughing a little, she shook her head. “No,” she said almost sadly, “I’m not beautiful. Maybe someday, when I’m older and more mature, more serene inside myself, maybe then I’ll be beautiful, for all my wrinkles and grey hair.”
“You’re wrong, Carrie. Just because you aren’t as you would wish to be, it doesn’t mean you’re less beautiful. Consider the beauty of a rosebud, with the great promise of a full-blooming beauty to come. As long as you’re unsatisfied, and you keep striving for something better, in some way trying to fulfill that promise of beauty, you will always remain beautiful.”
Gabe stepped back a pace, turned around, and looked about him, studying the night sky and the dark purple shadows that surrounded both Carrie and him. He almost seemed to melt into the purple shadows himself, all at once appearing very far away to her.
She felt again the depression that she had felt when Gabe had so lightly mentioned leaving the valley.
Suddenly, in her mind’s eye she could picture a thousand barriers between herself and Gabe. It was a strange and lonely feeling, and she turned away too, with a curious sense of defeat. Why she felt the way she did, Carrie couldn’t explain, nor did she stop to analyze the different emotions flitting by so quickly like a winged night creature, giving her no chance to examine their purple depths. All she knew consciously was that she was alone.
Carrie turned back in the direction of the house and prepared to walk back, expecting Gabe to follow her automatically since he had seemed to look about him with an air of finality. She had naturally assumed that this was the course the evening was to take.
He said quickly, sounding startled, “Do you have to go? It’s so early.”
Carrie replied as quickly, “Oh, no. I just thought you were ready to go back now.” She couldn’t see his face as she peered up. He was a being made of moonlight and darkness, a pillar of fantasy, ethereal illusion.
Slowly Gabe approached. He said, softly deep, his head cocked to one side, “You look so fragile and unreal. You look as though you’re going to melt away forever and just disappear from sight.” He reached out with one hand, touching her cheek carefully. “You feel real enough. Warm.”
Carrie stopped breathing and held herself very still. She searched the blue of Gabe’s face, seeing only the dark glitter of his eyes and the impression of hair falling on his brow.
He lowered his head, almost as if he were hesitant to approach her. She stayed exactly where she was, with her face upturned and her heart starting a slow, hard pounding, the heavy slug of her blood’s flow feeling pronounced at her wrists and throat.
The touch of his mouth was cool, the feel of his lips firm. He held quite still for a moment, motionless against the pressure of her lips. Then he moved, sliding his two hands around her waist and pulling her to him as he parted his lips and deepened the kiss. It was a gentle and easy movement, unhurried and calm, and yet the nearness of his body and the feeling of heat that emanated from his chest was enough to make her tremble. Gabe felt it, their embrace being so intimate, and his hands tightened convulsively on her small waist, almost hurting her with his strength. His lips became harder, the kiss more demanding, and she found herself giving back as intensely, responding wholeheartedly. It lasted forever, of that she was sure. Nothing else existed outside, this, their own little world. Nothing else mattered. And then, at the same time, it was somehow ending much too soon. He was pulling back his head and stepping back, his hands falling—she
Gabe stopped walking, withdrawing his hand from Carrie’s light grasp. “I wasn’t talking about the night, although it is rather nice. I was talking about you, Carrie.”
Carrie felt uncomfortable. Half laughing a little, she shook her head. “No,” she said almost sadly, “I’m not beautiful. Maybe someday, when I’m older and more mature, more serene inside myself, maybe then I’ll be beautiful, for all my wrinkles and grey hair.”
“You’re wrong, Carrie. Just because you aren’t as you would wish to be, it doesn’t mean you’re less beautiful. Consider the beauty of a rosebud, with the great promise of a full-blooming beauty to come. As long as you’re unsatisfied, and you keep striving for something better, in some way trying to fulfill that promise of beauty, you will always remain beautiful.”
Gabe stepped back a pace, turned around, and looked about him, studying the night sky and the dark purple shadows that surrounded both Carrie and him. He almost seemed to melt into the purple shadows himself, all at once appearing very far away to her.
She felt again the depression that she had felt when Gabe had so lightly mentioned leaving the valley.
Suddenly, in her mind’s eye she could picture a thousand barriers between herself and Gabe. It was a strange and lonely feeling, and she turned away too, with a curious sense of defeat. Why she felt the way she did, Carrie couldn’t explain, nor did she stop to analyze the different emotions flitting by so quickly like a winged night creature, giving her no chance to examine their purple depths. All she knew consciously was that she was alone.
Carrie turned back in the direction of the house and prepared to walk back, expecting Gabe to follow her automatically since he had seemed to look about him with an air of finality. She had naturally assumed that this was the course the evening was to take.
He said quickly, sounding startled, “Do you have to go? It’s so early.”
Carrie replied as quickly, “Oh, no. I just thought you were ready to go back now.” She couldn’t see his face as she peered up. He was a being made of moonlight and darkness, a pillar of fantasy, ethereal illusion.
Slowly Gabe approached. He said, softly deep, his head cocked to one side, “You look so fragile and unreal. You look as though you’re going to melt away forever and just disappear from sight.” He reached out with one hand, touching her cheek carefully. “You feel real enough. Warm.”
Carrie stopped breathing and held herself very still. She searched the blue of Gabe’s face, seeing only the dark glitter of his eyes and the impression of hair falling on his brow.
He lowered his head, almost as if he were hesitant to approach her. She stayed exactly where she was, with her face upturned and her heart starting a slow, hard pounding, the heavy slug of her blood’s flow feeling pronounced at her wrists and throat.
The touch of his mouth was cool, the feel of his lips firm. He held quite still for a moment, motionless against the pressure of her lips. Then he moved, sliding his two hands around her waist and pulling her to him as he parted his lips and deepened the kiss. It was a gentle and easy movement, unhurried and calm, and yet the nearness of his body and the feeling of heat that emanated from his chest was enough to make her tremble. Gabe felt it, their embrace being so intimate, and his hands tightened convulsively on her small waist, almost hurting her with his strength. His lips became harder, the kiss more demanding, and she found herself giving back as intensely, responding wholeheartedly. It lasted forever, of that she was sure. Nothing else existed outside, this, their own little world. Nothing else mattered. And then, at the same time, it was somehow ending much too soon. He was pulling back his head and stepping back, his hands falling—she
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