Where Is The Edge

Chapter 13

Marcia refused to give me even a hint of the kind of place we would be going, so I was left to choose an outfit that was somewhere in the middle; neither too dressy nor too casual, and I had to hope that it was appropriate.

Punctually, she arrived for me at the time she promised. And dear heavens, I was mesmerized by the beauty that abounded in every inch of her being. And I did my best to capture every detail so that I could remember it no matter how much time passed, I knew it might be strange for me to look at her too much, I mean, of course she was going to get a reaction from me, but still.

"Oh, but aren't I the luckiest one?" I stated, and she let go of her lip that was slightly between her teeth to smile fully.

"No, I'm the luckiest, look at you," she countered, "when the boys are serious adults in suits, I'll tell them how we were dressed on our first date. In fact, I'd like to take a picture, come here."

Her words left me wondering.

She really believed it was just the beginning of something lasting between us, not just a few months' affair, and best of all, that meant there was commitment to make it work, for we were talking many years ahead. I wanted it too, I longed for as long a relationship as we could possibly have.

"You've become a Polaroid addict, honey," I teased her.

She raised her arm, turned the camera around and pointed it at us. The flash came on, annoyingly, but it was worth the outcome. After shaking as required for the image to develop, that feeling of infinite adoration came over me once again.

My beloved Marcia Clark, I could seriously imagine this photograph in some album, already somewhat tarnished but still intact enough to appreciate it with nostalgia and be able to step back to this moment.

"I love you, I love us," she kissed my cheek and took the cartridge in her hands. "Time to go."

On the way to the mysterious place, I was extremely nervous. Honestly, I didn't understand why. It was just a date but nothing different from what we did every day; sit and talk, and from one topic came another topic, and from that topic came another topic, until those little routine questions about our days turned into sleepless nights with our throats slightly dry from talking so much.

That nervousness disappeared easily, and was replaced with enormous excitement once we arrived.

It was a cottage-like restaurant, tucked away down a path that led into a small patch of forest. There were lights hanging from the ceiling, quiet music could be heard faintly from the entrance, and upon entering it felt cozy, not only because of the fire and the dim lighting that gave it that much appreciated homely atmosphere, but because we were treated with exceptional kindness. Perhaps restaurant workers are supposed to treat customers this way, but you learn to tell the difference between when it's genuine and when they do it just because it's part of protocol.

Every aspect of that evening was magical, even the air felt lighter to breathe, because everywhere I looked, nothing was out of place and there wasn't a single thing that didn't look like something out of a dreamy romance novel.

Much of it was due to my wonderful company, who had her hair in little curls this time, not straight as she normally wore it, her make-up was natural as always, and her outfit consisted of a white dress that reached her knees, a light brown belt and heels of the same color, her jewellery was never missing, nor was her exquisite perfume.