It was late and I was bleary-eyed from trying to lip-read Brent for hours. I finally acknowledged my communication limits and called it a night. If my hearing were normal, I would have had us lie back on the floor next to each other, and talk into the wee hours into the morning with our eyes closed. I used to do this on occasion, on the phone with my teenage friends while my parents slept.

We reluctantly parted with a warm hug, though we both admitted later that we wished we had ended our first date with a long, tender kiss. However, being the courteous man Brent was, he didn’t want to assume that a kiss was expected. He was truly a gentleman.

Through a crack in the curtains, I watched Brent drive away. Even though I was exhausted from all the lip-reading, the emotion, the energy we had shared, I could not go to sleep. Instead, I returned to my aunt’s sofa where we had been sitting for hours. I turned off the lights and lay down. Pulling a small blanket over my shoulders, I held myself as I stared into the darkness, replaying the entire evening in my head and vowing to remember every detail.

Photo by: “Toos&TheSea”

As I lay there in the stillness, I suddenly remembered the second verse in the Song of St. Barbara.

In my head, I heard an entire orchestra in accompaniment to this song! I heard flutes, strings, horns, drums and crashing cymbals! I felt so alive! I felt hope! I felt gratitude! I felt overwhelmed with love! I let this inner-music carry me off into the land of dreams.

Brent came to see me again that next night, as he had promised, and every evening thereafter that week. With each visit, he stayed into the wee hours of the morning. I was still committed to my baby-sitting job and was essentially a live-in nanny and housekeeper during the weekdays. I couldn’t leave my aunt’s house until the weekend, but we made plans to go out as soon as I was free. We both counted the hours in anticipation when we could finally be alone.

The first night we had alone together, we decided to take a sunset walk to a park near Brent’s home. I drove to his house, parked my car, and we walked from there. Even though we had seen each other several nights in a row at my aunt’s house, this evening brought us the freedom to express our growing love in a more physical way.

Photo by: Mike Davis

We walked a few blocks before Brent finally got up the courage to hold my hand. I was surprised to feel myself blush, but I welcomed his warm, gentle touch. It also helped tether me and keep me from bumping into things while I turned my head to read his lips. Our hands swung lightly to and fro as we talked about the colors of the sunset and the coming dusk.

A short way along one of the park’s paths, Brent stopped me, and sort of leaped in front of me like a happy puppy. He put his hands gently on my arms and said, “YOU ARE GORGIOUS!” Again, I smiled and blushed.

I may have been pretty good at reading his lips, but at that moment, I wasn’t very good at reading his mind. I started to walk on, but it was Brent’s intention to give me his first kiss at that very moment. I wasn’t quite expecting him to come toward me as I stepped forward, so our faces sort of bumped into one another as Brent made a move to kiss me. Realizing what was happening, I quickly apologized and to help save face, I asked Brent, “Can we do that again?”

Brent smiled gingerly and nodded. Slowly and tenderly, our moistened lips met and we kissed deeply as we held each other in a yearning twilight embrace. The arousal that had been building for over a week was finally released. The park at dusk was so romantic and the perfect memorable setting for our first kiss and the several more that followed. It was also the place where we first verbally declared our love for one another.

We took our time as we walked back to Brent’s house, hand in hand. We walked in silence, for it was too dark by then for me to lip-read. Yet, the silence was golden. There could be no words grand enough to say. Words would pale to the glow of our two hearts.

Photo by: “Grufnik”

We continued to spend most of our evenings together that summer, sharing deep conversations and timeless moments. We had dinners out, took more walks in the park, went to indoor cinemas, and necked at the drive-in movies. We drove around town looking for isolated places to do things that young lovers do. We parked on dirt roads in foggy orchards or lamp-less streets on hidden country roads. We threw old blankets down and lay kissing in the moonlight in overgrown fields. We were young lovers caught up in the mystery of one another.

Photo by: Stefano Corso

One day, we took a car trip to Morro Bay just to watch the sun set. We drove back late that night bathing in the light of a full harvest moon. I remember Brent singing to some Cat Stevens songs on the radio. Because I wished so badly that I could hear his voice, I asked him if he would let me touch his throat as he sang. He was self-conscious at first, but agreed to let me try. As my fingers gently slid across his Adam’s Apple, I could feel his baritone voice glide smoothly across the notes. Though I could not hear him, I could tell he was a good singer. Later, other people who had heard Brent singing confirmed that he did have a great voice.

For a moment, I grieved that I could not hear the voice of the one I love. I could only imagine what it would have been like to sing a song together. But with Brent, life was full of the music of love, and once again, my heart could sing.

Posted by LaRonda on Sunday, February 4th, 2007 at 1:55 pm.