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Fiction » Romance » Desert Storm font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: xKaelynx
Fiction Rated: K - English - Romance - Reviews: 1 - Published: 01-01-05 - Updated: 01-01-05 - id:1796761

Desert Storm

The first storm I ever saw came and went in a flurry of distracted passion and activity. His name was Gary – that was all; he would give me no other. If I were still naïve enough to believe in such things, I would say that Fate had dipped her hand in my life. But back then, in those days of dry intensity, I didn’t know the things that I know now. But then again – I hadn’t met Gary yet either. Gary changed everything.

That day; I can still remember so clearly. The sun was blazing with its usual glorified wrath and a hot wind swept through my little town, carrying sand and the unmistakable scent of the desert. I sat on the steps of my old, creaking porch whose paint had long been stripped away by the years and I waited. To this day, I’m still not quite sure what I remained there for – certainly, at that moment, I had nothing that was worth staying. But that day, as I sat still and waited for something that wouldn’t come, I slowly came to notice a peculiar boy that was making his way down the street, looking intently in the doorways and windows of the houses and shops that lined our Main St. As he came closer and closer I could not help but feel a bit curious. After all, in a tiny place like Cyderville, everyone knew everyone and I had never seen this boy before.

Inevitably, he reached my house and saw me perched on the steps, chin propped in my hands and staring at him with a defiantly curious look. He brightened immediately and approached me boldly. To my utter surprise, he grabbed my hand and urgently started tugging me down the steps.

“What the devil are you doing?! Let go of me, you have no right to do this!” I cried.

He turned halfway, his profile sharp against the evening light, a toothy grin appearing. “Hullo. My name is Gary. I need you for something so please hurry.”

Speechless, I followed him to the end of Main St. There an old boulder loomed – the playground of many Cyderville children. It was to the great rock that Gary took me. Later that night I would wonder why I had allowed myself to be led by this eccentric stranger. It would be much later when I would finally realize that it was because of his eyes. Even in that brief moment when we locked gazes, they radiated love and a passion that bewildered me. There was no way I could not trust that love. But, that was all to come later. At that moment, we had both scrambled up the rough surface of the boulder and had settled ourselves on the worn top.

“What did you need me for?” I demanded. Turning away from me, he pointed to the horizon.

“Look,” he said simply.

“There’s nothing there,” I started to say.

“No,” he cut in. “Really look.”

Sighing, but unable to deny his request, I obliged. At first all I could see was the same scenery I had seen for the past 17 years. But all at once, it was like the world came into clear focus. I could see each grain of sand and how it sparkled with the dying rays of the goldenrod sun. I could feel the heat striking my face and for the first time I was unable to tear my eyes away from my surroundings. Everything seemed bathed in orange and red and it was like the colors become brighter and deeper at the same time. Oh, I can never forget the brilliance of that sunset! I gazed rapturously until the final ray disappeared and all was dark. The spell broken, I blinked dazedly and looked beside me. Gary was there, his head bent laboriously over a plain black sketchbook. For a minute or two we stayed like that; me studying the top of his golden-wheat head and listening to the soft scratching of his pencil. At length, he looked up and into my eyes. Even in the dark, they shone with mischief and passion. Gary was always passionate.

“I still don’t understand…” I broke the silence and trailed off, unable to find the correct words.

Gary remained silent for a bit. “What’s your name?” he finally said.

I was a little taken back. “Anna. My name is Anna,”

“Anna,” he tested out my name. And then, tilting his head back toward the faint stars, “I’m glad you came.”

“Can I ask you something?” I said tentatively.

He laughed a deep, free and purely joyous sound. “You already have. But yes, go ahead.”

“Oh… well. How did you know that I was the person you were looking for? To help you with… whatever it was?”

He steady gaze bore into mine and I shivered at the unfamiliar intensity within them. “I guess it was because of your eyes – and what lay behind them.”

“Like how they say eyes are the window to the soul?” I ventured.

He thought about for a while before replying, “No, not exactly. It’s more like… eyes are a mirror of the spirit. Because I believe that your soul is who you are, but your spirit is what you’re made of.”

I think it was then - out there in the vast desert, with the night chill setting in and the quiet of the sands surrounding us - that I first came to love the storm they called Gary.


When I ask people what they remember of the time of their first love, I tend to get answers of anything from whispered conversations with best friends, to innocent kisses and hugs. How different was the time my memories showed me! Of that summer, I remember the hot sand beneath my bare feet, the smell of paint oils, the feel of charcoal under my fingers, the brilliance of red and Gary’s scent of soap and mint. I close my eyes and I can almost feel the gentle pressure of his rough fingers on my cheek. I can almost see his warm smile and hear his carefree laughter. Of all the things I miss about Gary, I think I miss his eyes the most. Those eyes that revealed his great passion – in all things, Gary brought his passion. Gary taught me how to marvel at the small things and to be awed by the big things. Nothing was plain in Gary’s eyes. He flitted from here to there, always wanting to try new things, but never too busy to spend an afternoon sitting in the shadow of the great boulder where he could be seen with his canvas before him and a brush in his hand. He was all things – changing as soon as I thought I had finally grasped him. Chasing him so, it exhausted me but thrilled me at the same time. He became the badly needed rain in the desert of my life.


It was a hot August day. That day, no wind was available and the heat settled like sand to the bottom of a river. I stayed in my house, doing nothing and wishing with varying levels of sincerity that I could get out of this desert. But as soon as darkness began to fall, Gary was there, rapping at the front door, hollering for me to come out.

“Anna! Aaaaanna! Hurry up!” Excited and wondering what Gary had in store for me this time, I tumbled down the stairs in a most un-ladylike manner. The front door thrown open revealed Gary, a wide grin contrasting with unusually solemn eyes.

“C’mon,” he gestured and I followed. Not surprisingly, he led me to the boulder. It had quickly become his favorite place in those first couple of days. Tonight, we both watched the stars come out and after a time he spoke.

“Anna,” he said. “Anna. Do you remember the first time we met?”

“Of course I do.”

“Do you remember what I told you about eyes being a mirror to the spirit?” Gazing at the sky, his voice was quiet and gentle.

“Yes.” With Gary, I found it unnecessary to say much more.

After a pause, he continued, almost dreamy in a curiously solemn kind of way. “You have a beautiful spirit. And that was what I needed.”

I looked at his darkened profile, surprised that he had caught me off guard once again. Not knowing what to say, I kept quiet and turned my gaze back to the desert. Many minutes passed in comfortable silence before I too spoke.

“Sometimes, when I look out at the desert and I can’t see where it ends, I get scared. I’m afraid that one day, I won’t be able to see the horizon and I’ll get lost. I won’t know how to find the road again and I’ll live my life being lost and die a lost person. And that’s what scares me the most.” The velvet of night blanketed each word with a sense of open dreaminess.

Gary took my hand and gently pulled me into his embrace. Being shorter, my head rested on his broad chest and I could hear the even beats of his kind heart. I was pleasantly shocked by this action – it was a first for us but somehow, I still felt so right in his arms. It felt like home.

“I promise you, Anna. If you ever get lost, I will find you. It might take weeks, months or even years, but I swear, Anna, I will find you. So please, just wait for me – I will come.”

The deep rumblings I heard from his chest brought tears to my eyes. “I will wait for however long it takes. I love you Gary,” I whispered.

He said nothing but his arms tightened around me and I understood.

“It’s ok,” I told him softly. “I can wait.”

Another pause, this time long and peaceful, before a quiet, “Thank you…”

I wish I could say that that was the happy ending and that we spent all eternity together. I wish I could say even that it was only because of a tragic history making event that tore us apart. But no. In the end, all it took was a simple job loss and a not so simple move. And it was just as tragic to us as any other history making event. Perhaps more.

He took me aside one evening, face stiff and eyes hard. I felt fear the minute I saw him and I could not shake off my sense of foreboding. I dreaded what was to come.

“Anna, I have to leave.”

I knew immediately what he meant and I could feel a panicked wail rising inside me. Gary was my compass and if he left then where would I be? How could this happen?

“Anna, look at me.” I obeyed and his eyes softened at the pain that shone in mine. “I’m so sorry Anna.” We both knew what he was apologizing for but I still burned inside. “I’m so sorry. I really am. Oh… Anna…” his voice broke. We cried together that night, our tears mingling as we held each other. No words were spoken.

Bittersweet weeks ensued, the days slipping by too fast until it was time for him to go. I dragged myself to his house and we went for a final walk. We stayed silent almost the whole time. We were nearing his home when he stopped and pulled me into the shade of a tree. I forced myself to look at him and I could see the redness in his eyes.

“Anna, do you still remember what I told you that night? About what to do if you get lost?” he said in a low urgent voice.

“You said to wait for you to come. “ My own voice was shaky and hoarse from countless tears.

“Yes,” Gary’s pleading gaze searched my face. “I will find you.” Slowly I nodded and relief showed on his features.

“Anna, I… I…” he struggled but looked up, surprised, when I placed a finger on his lips.

“I will wait. You can tell me when you find me,” I said in a sad wistful tone. He held me then and we clung to each other in a desperate kind of way. We could hear his parents calling in the near distance and so slowly we returned to his former home and the old pickup that stood waiting. Goodbyes were exchanged and all too soon the truck was backing out of the driveway and rumbling off into the distance. I stood there, in the middle of Main St. until I could no longer see the cloud of dust, no matter how hard I squinted.

That was where my mom found me when she came out of the nearby store. She took me home and handed me a box. Inside, there lay Gary’s art – canvases and his precious black sketchbook. There was a note on top and as I read it my hands started to shake. I took the painting that rested on top and my vision blurred. It was from that first night, when I was enthralled with the sunset – I had forgotten that he had been busy sketching. I took the box filled with desert landscapes and sketches of me to my room where I closed the door and sat down on my bed. Eternity seemed to pass as the immensity of my loss washed over me. I could taste the salt dripping down.


They say that time heals all wounds. And so I wait.


When I was 23 I moved to the city of New York. I had a small condo rented to me by a distant family member. It had a balcony and on still nights, I would lean on the railing and search the darkened sky for faint stars. I think back to the desert nights and a certain mint and soap smell and I wonder if the stars will ever be as clear as they were back then. Scattered around my humble home are the paintings and framed sketches that have remained with me since that day. I remember a while ago, when I had my palm read for fun with some friends and she had told me that I was only able to love one person for my lifetime. My friends nodded sagely in agreement. That year, I saw a storm. I stood on the little balcony of mine and when it had passed, it left me drenched and disappointed. Gary had been much more. It’s funny, those three words hadn’t managed to pass his lips and yet, that doesn’t bother me – the proof of his overwhelming love is in each piece of art that he left me and words pale in comparison. Perhaps that is what helps me to hold on, when doubt and ache start to infringe my mind. But it is more in the fact that in my heart, I can still hear Gary calling to me. I can hear his faint voice, full of love and passion, telling me to wait. In a way, I am still the girl of 17 that sits on her porch steps not knowing why she lingers, only aware that nothing draws closer. But I know now what I wait for. And I know that he will come.



© Copyright 2005 xKaelynx (FictionPress ID:417307).


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