Will the Real Jeff Creek

One evening, just before sunset, a beautiful, tall, young girl walked past my fortress. She walked slowly, without purpose, and looked at me curiously. She walked by again the next evening and for several evenings thereafter. Each evening she walked closer and closer to my fortress. I wanted to call out to her to join me for a cup of coffee, but I didn’t. My impulse was held in check by the ring on my left finger. Is that why rings are exchanged, to keep men in check?

The girl introduced something new to my life on the beach. Up until the night she appeared, I hadn’t even thought about women, except for Angie. When I thought of Angie, though, I just wondered how she was getting along at home. I talked to some waitresses in restaurants, but it was just idle chatter. With the girl on the beach, it was different. I could feel her spirit, even from a distance. I wanted to look into her eyes. I wanted to sit beside her, talk to her, even hold her. I sensed her need to pass closer to my fort each night. All this, and I knew absolutely nothing about her. My heart pounded as I watched her. My breath came in gasps. Sometimes I held my breath, silently begging her to walk up to me.

Seeing the girl walk by became the most important part of my day. I began to sit in the front of my fortress, next to the fire. I wanted the girl to know I was there. I wanted her to see in my eyes how much I wanted to be with her. I wanted our meeting to be her choice. I guess I felt it would relieve me of the responsibility that might come with our meeting. We looked directly at each other as she walked slowly past the logs. I didn’t see how she could possibly miss the messages in my eyes, the overpowering need I had for her to just walk up to my fire, pull me to my feet, and step quietly into my arms.

Finally, one evening, the girl stopped about twenty-five yards from my fire. We stood there, she out on the firm sand, me beside the logs in deep sand, just looking at each other. I think we were both hoping the other would say something. I didn’t say anything, fearing I would frighten her away. I suppose she didn’t say anything for fear of appearing too bold.

After a couple of minutes, the girl began walking slowly toward my fire. My heart pounded, my eyes glued to every step she took. I wasn’t sure of her age. You can’t tell these days. I guessed her age at early twenties. She stopped about five feet from the fire and looked at me through large, blue eyes that reflected the fire’s dancing flames. She had chestnut-colored hair that hung down past her shoulders. She was about five-feet ten inches tall in her bare feet. She wore a sheer, mid-thigh-length cover-up over her yellow, bikini-clad body. The glow from the fire gave her an angelic appearance, the ocean breeze swirling her long dark hair across her beautifully tanned face.

Neither of us said a word. I didn’t even ask her to sit down by my fire. The whole incident was like a dream. After a long moment I sat down and stirred the fire. She sat quietly down beside me, pulled her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. She tilted her head and looked into my face for a long time and then at the jumping flames and finally out at the tumbling surf. By this time the surf shimmered in the light of the rising moon, casting occasional glances through the gliding clouds that drifted overhead.

I don’t know if I will ever be able to explain why things happened the way they did that night. Somehow, the girl and I seemed to be following a silent movie script. It didn’t take me long to realize that I shouldn’t, couldn’t, say a word. I finally handed the girl a cup of coffee in the extra cup I had started bringing to the fort after that first evening I saw her. Somehow, I knew she would come to my fire, that we would be together in the fort.

She took the coffee without saying a word. There was nothing uncomfortable about what was happening. I was happy and totally relaxed. The girl seemed content, but a little cold. Her long, tan legs were covered with goose bumps. I placed a blanket over her legs. She looked at me and smiled the purest smile I had ever seen. I don’t know if that was because she was pure or because I wanted her to be. She wrapped herself in the blanket. The girl and I were both captivated by the mystery of what was happening between us. I poured us a second cup of coffee. We were content to let the night wrap tightly around us as all traces of daylight disappeared, leaving only the flickering flames of our low fire. Suddenly, I realized that it really was our fire, not mine. Our silence was necessary to allow the breath-taking experience anoint us. I hadn’t felt this since Angie and I first discovered each other. I didn’t think of it as love, but it made me feel warm, peaceful, and happy inside. I wanted to say something to her, but I couldn’t.