nepenthe (n.) something that can make you forget grief or suffering
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THE FIRST DAYS OF WINTER BREAK are hectic. Between all the planning and packing, Jordan's been finalizing some stuff with the lawyers, who have to get financial information from him since his father is unavailable. But finally, we are all packed up and ready in the car, Jordan is in the driver's seat, I'm in the passenger, and the woman and her daughter, who's names I've learned to be Marion and Rosie respectively, are in the back.
The drive starts off silent until I see the girls in the back fast asleep about an hour in.
"Are you as excited as me?", I ask happily.
"Yes, it'll be really nice to get away from all that bullshit for a while," he says. The sun is still rising over the horizon, faint rays of amber, gold, and rust lighting up the car to match our moods. The drive from our city of Fresno to our chosen place, Manhattan Beach, is around 3 hours and 40 minutes, so we stop off at a diner to get some breakfast around halfway through.
It is a cute, sea-themed place, with various baubles such as surfboards and ocean paintings decorating the walls and shells dotting the tables. We take our seats, Jordan getting up to go the restroom after we order, leaving me with Marion and Rosie.
"So, are you and Jordan close?", Marion asks, her light brown eyes shining with curiosity. Her face is well sculpted, with high cheekbones and full lips, giving her the perception of beauty, ringlets of reddish blonde hair framing her face.
"Yeah, I'm his girlfriend actually," I say, nervous for some reason.
"Oh wow, he never said anything," she remarks, a slight edge to her voice as if she was trying to make me feel insignificant.
"Well, we like to keep things quiet and private, so I'm not surprised," I shrug, and her lips pucker in disproval. Before she can respond, Jordan is sliding back into the seat next to me, resting a large palm on my thigh.
"Jordan, you never told me this was your girlfriend!", she exclaims in a voice pitched too high, trying to act as though she meant a lot to him. He looks at me curiously, but I just shrug.
Our food finally comes, with Jordan and I sharing a stack of chocolate-chip pancakes drizzled in chocolate syrup and topped off with whipped cream and powdered sugar. He laughs when I immediately dig in, greedily shoving these pieces of heaven into my mouth. Marion looks at me distastefully when I get whipped cream on the side of my mouth, but Jordan just wipes it away with a chuckle.
When we are all finished, we pile back in the car, and we're quickly on the road again. I turn up the song on the radio and roll down my window slightly, leaning back and enjoying the ride. I quickly fall asleep to the music and the wind blowing through my hair.
Muffled voices wake me up, a slight breeze letting me know that we're outside. I find myself cradled into Jordan's strong chest as he carries me bridal style up the steps to the hotel before laying me down gently on a couch so he can go check us in. A smile spreads across my face as soon as he turns away. I sit up and stretch as we wait for him to come back.
Later, when we are all settled into our rooms, Jordan and I in one and Marion and Rosie in another, we go out for dinner, walking along a strip of walkway next to the beach called The Strand. Even though it is Christmas Eve, it still feels like springtime, with the warm winds gliding though the air, and the casual, summer dress that many people wear. We eat dinner at a cute pizza place before heading to a place called the Manhattan Beach Creamery, each of us grabbing an ice cream.
Jordan and I walk down the pier hand-in-hand licking our ice cream after leaving Rosie and Marion at some toy shop. The sun is disappearing, leaving faint streaks of gold and bronze in the pale lavender and navy blue skies. The faint chatter of people is drowned out by the continuous splashing of the ocean tides below us, a feeling of calm settling over us. Jordan's face is highlighted by the shadowed sky, his chartreuse eyes glinting in the dark.
We fall into a comfortable silence as we walk, footsteps echoing. He suddenly turns to me with a serious expression, seemingly wanting to say something. And he does.
"I think I love you, Andromeda," his words drip in meaning and consume the air around us, his deep voice magnified by the silence. Surprise manifests inside me, my pulse racing at the speed of light, but shockingly my next words free themselves easily.
"I think I love you too, Jordan," I say, my words sealing it as an inescapable truth. Jordan loves Andromeda and Andromeda loves Jordan. The creation of another law of nature, binding our souls together.
His eyes flame as he takes in my words, dropping his empty cup into a trash can and pulling my face toward his. He brings his lips to mine, impossibly soft, and crushes my body against him, backing me into a lamp pole. We are barely illuminated by the dim circle of light the lamp gives us, yet it feels as though I'm filled with the light of a thousand suns as his lips ravage my own. He tastes of ice cream and licorice and the sweetness of childhood dreams. It's genuine and meaningful, a million words passing between us as our bodies tangle on the pier, the ocean crashing below us as though it can sense our passion.
As we kiss, I can't help but thank the gods that I got to meet this boy. That I get to experience love and passion. That that I get to give my heart to someone worthy.
That I get him.
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