This is the very ecstasy of love.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Hamlet (Act 2, Scene 1)
CALEB
It’s insane.
So this is love—the sweetest insanity, a blinding wonder, a fear-tinged joy.
It’s torment being apart from her, and when we’re together, I can hardly stand that there will be a parting.
Today was filled with pain, as I went to work and she went to church with her mom and brother. Her dad nearly gave me a heart attack with his phone call from New York, apologizing for being rude to me. The conversation was cut short before I could decide whether or not to mention my grandfather’s offer or to even consider telling him that I’m in love with his daughter. It’s ironic how much I love her. I love her more than my grandfather hates the Monrovi family. Perhaps that was part of God’s plan.
Now we’re sitting on the ledge that is my favorite view on the grounds of the Monrovi Inn. There is little space to sit, so we’re at a right angle from one another. We touch on one edge whenever one of us moves.
“So is the trust experiment over now?” she asks.
The weekend has worn through every muscle and my emotions don’t have their usual composure. I want to sleep now, and I want to sleep with her beside me, her head on my shoulder where I can smell her hair and feel her body curled to my side. I won’t let my mind go farther, though it constantly tries and sometimes I fail to keep it contained, for this image alone is painful enough.
My cynical nature thought she’d be too rich-girl-acting to even get in the jeep the first time. I expected her to give up at the cliff ’s edge, and yet, somehow I knew she wouldn’t. I’ve been deceiving myself to keep being close to her, to show her the sea cave, to drive with her, to be near her. I never actually wanted her to fail.
“Why did you trust me?” I ask.
She shrugs, starts to say something, then stops.
I’m in love with her. I’m in love with her crooked pinky finger and matching crooked pinky toe. I’m in love with her blonde wavy hair, and the freckles on her jaw near her ear. I’m in love with her small ears, with her perfect mouth, and that indention on her chin. This love for her consumes my brain like a fire and pounds through every cell in my being.
She speaks in a lighter tone, smiling a little, and I want to memorize every one of her smiles and every one of the sounds she makes.
“I’m a little disappointed, actually. I thought you were going to teach me how to surf.”
This makes me laugh—so I’m transparent to her sometimes too. “That was my first plan. But I didn’t think you could handle the cold, even with a wet suit. Someday I’ll teach you in Hawaii.”
The implication isn’t lost on her.
“I’m going to hold you to it. Hawaii. Surfing lessons.”
“That’s a deal.”
And even this simple agreement of a tomorrow is a first promise between us.