“Babe, you ever noticed the grass round here?” I asked my date.
“The grass?” He said, tilting his head towards me.
"Yeah, by the river.” I nudged closer and pointed to the river bank, emboldened by the makeshift bellinis we’d had earlier.
“The grass. What... what about it?” He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t place, not quite confusion, something else.
"Yeah, the grass. It's almost tropical, or prehistoric." I said, stupid words tumbling out before I could stop them. He smiled, but didn’t laugh. I relaxed, letting go of my fear of mockery, or anger, and continued.
“It’s the same as the grass in the meadow, where we had our picnic earlier. But bigger. I want to know why.”
“I’d never thought about it before," he said. Not looking disinterested but also not as absorbed as I was. "If I'm honest, I've only been here a handful of times before. Thought it would be a cool place for our picnic but I don't know it super well."
I took his hand in mine and smiled. The picnic was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. He’d noticed how I always keep salt & pepper cashews and those really good organic blueberry oat bars at my desk and he’d bought a bunch of those as well all my favourite fruits, prosecco and a massive quinoa salad. He’d thought of everything, cutlery, napkins, nice glasses, the whole shebang. I wore a backless yellow shift dress and hiking boots. He wore a blue shirt and chinos with his beat up leather converse.
We hiked after our picnic then took in the views and kissed under the sunset. A perfect date. But my nerves stayed fraught. Bones mend faster than hearts, I’d learnt. They mended faster than nerves too, it seemed.
I gestured towards the huge plants by the edge of the water. “Look at the leaves, then the grass next to it. We could be in the Amazon rainforest, or somewhere prehistoric. But we're here, today, in London and those leaves are the exact same shape as the ones near our picnic and the grass is just, grass, but it’s massive.
“Mmm.” He said. He put his arm around me and I leaned into his body. I felt the rise and fall of his chest and let it calm me. His heart beat as constant and reassuring as the birdsong surrounding us. I allowed myself to breathe in the scent of his cologne mingling deliciously with the sweat from our hike to the river. He smelt like a dream.
”Am I being weird?” I asked, worried I’d ruined the perfect date.
“I’m enjoying your observations. I like that you think so much.” He continued to stroke my arm.
I let myself enjoy the tingles and pushed away the familiar bad feeling rising in my stomach.
"So, got any theories”
“Theories?”
"You said you wanted to know why this grass is taller? I’m no biologist, but it does look the same to me. So why’d you reckon it’s bigger?”
"Maybe…” I idly picked a scarlet berry from a shabby shrub by the bay beside us. I let it roll between my fingers then crushed it, watched the red spread as quickly as the blood did whenever the last guy I trusted grew bored of my stupid thoughts.
“Maybe?”
“I don’t know.” I stiffened.
“Do you think maybe it’s because the river brings it water?” He asked. “Maybe the taller grass can focus on growing because it never has to thirst, or chase what it needs?”
I nodded. Blinking back tears but not understanding why.
“Can I try that?”
"Sorry?” Now it was my turn to be confused.
“The berry,” he said, gently taking my hand in his.
I nodded. He guided the fruit towards his mouth and took a bite.
“Surprisingly good.” He said. Then picked another, rinsed it with his water bottle, the way I had with the strawberries earlier and fed it to me.
“That is good,” I said, noticing new birdsong nearby.
“I think we’ll be like that jurassic grass one day.” He said.
“You think so?”
“I know so.” He smiled. “Call me your river.” I sunk into his thudding chest, allowing myself to drink him in. Allowing myself to grow.
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