THE PACT

The small logs were aflame for ambiance rather than heat as they flickered in the makeshift stone pit. Body heat blazed between us as we sat alone in the dark forest, listening to crickets chirp, the moaning sounds of cicadas quieting into silence. 

Sitting cross-legged on pine needles, I picked up a rogue twig and broke it in half between my fingers. Then again, and again, until I threw the miniature pieces into the fire and watched them flare and turn to ash. Dust to dust, or so they say. You hugged your legs and laid your face on your knees. Your hypnotic stare indicated that I had the answers. But I never learned the question—that is, until you spoke it.

“Why do you love me?” Your cheek caressed your jeans, as though nestling into them would make me understand.

“Because.” It was the only thought that I allowed past my lips. My thoughts were too scrambled to gather into a sentence.

“Because you have to? Or you want to?” Even in the dim fire light, I saw a small wet streak on your pant leg.

“I don’t remember.” I stretched my legs out of their crossed pose and grimaced as my hips opposed the movement. “It’s like I made a pact long before I met you. Remember that movie when the woman’s memory flashed to when she created her soulmate that could ride horses backward and could flip pancakes upside down in a hurricane,” I chuckled at my usual exaggerations, “or something like that.” I fidgeted with the pine needles poking through my jeans.

“When I finally met you at that party, I fought the idea that it was you who I chose, so long ago in a cave with shadows dancing on the far, left wall. I made a pact. That’s all I know.  And now after all of this,” I pointed and looked to the stars then sighed, moving my chin back and parallel to your eyes. “Well, I’m not God, but I know it is written somewhere, maybe on that dank cave wall hidden under water and fire-burning bridges with hot coals lining the path so only those brave enough can cross the barrier and crack the tablet in two would venture.”

Your face never wavered. It never does when you listen to me ramble about nothing and everything, all at the same time. You know at some point, I’ll make that point, regardless if it makes sense to anyone but me. Your face was soft, content, as if your initial question never existed. As though, you just wanted to hear me talk.

“I’m supposed to love you until our death and maybe beyond. I’m telling you, I signed that deal with my own blood and I don’t regret it. Not once!”

You threw her head back and let out that deep, boisterous laugh. An unmistakable personal signature call. “You’re ridiculous. That’s why I love you.” You picked up a handful of pine needles and threw them at my shoulder.

“Then let me be ridiculous.” I used the tips of my fingers to squeeze the tension from my temples. I couldn’t tell you that it had felt as though you’ve been simply putting up with me and forgot to listen these past few months. I hurriedly wiped a tear close to falling, hoping you wouldn’t see.

But you did see, didn’t you? Because you inched closer, knowingly, loving. “Oh, honey.” You wrapped your arm around my shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”