In the Light of Day

The woman woke in the pre-dawn haze, just as the sun was beginning to make its ascent over the mountain. She could see out to the east, the trees at the top of the ridge were beginning to glow softly, and she knew in a matter of minutes, this blue-gray world would be awash in gold at the dawning of a new day. A bird was already calling to its mate, singing, “Wake up, lovely. The sun waits for no one.”

She yawned and stretched, wiggling her toes to wake them from their half-sleep, and reached left to feel for her lover. Still asleep; the woman could hear her love’s slow, deep breathing, feel the ribs rise and fall beneath her outstretched hand. The hay they had slept on was damp from the morning air, but still managed to poke through the thick blanket and her night clothes as she rolled on her side to get a better look at the sleeping figure beside her. Wondering why she hadn’t felt the hay so much the night before, especially while they made love, she lifted herself and adjusted her weight, trying to flatten out the hay as much as she could.

The old barn that sheltered them was dim and, having been abandoned quite some time, smelled faintly of manure and strongly of mildew and rot; but the gaps in the boards and the opening from the missing door let enough light in to see and enough fresh air in to be unbothered. At least for the woman, whose only concern lay beside her.

Propping herself up on her arm, she took in the view: the silken hair, soft and dewy and unkempt; the rosy cheeks, smudged with dirt as evidence of the previous evening’s ride along the dusty trails in the cool night air; the long eyelashes; the delicate hands.

The woman took a deep, nourishing breath and, marveling at the sight of her lover, right beside her, the two of them alone and safe, exhaled all her worry out into the world. She leaned down and gingerly kissed a cheek. Her love inhaled sharply and stirred.

Opening one eye and then the other, she smiled and said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” the woman replied. “How’d you sleep?”

“I’ve slept better,” she replied, yawning, “but I slept. You been up long?”

“Not long,” said the woman. “The sun’s coming up though. Won’t be but 30 minutes til we have full light. We should be going.” She smiled wide. “Got a long ride.”

“Oh yeah?” her lover returned the smile. “Where we going?”

The woman drew back slightly, her brow furrowed, and her smile twisted in confusion with her reply. “I told you. Last night. I’m going west. Far west.” She hesitated. “And I thought you were coming with me.”

“West?” Her lover pushed herself up, propping herself on her elbows to get a proper look at the woman. “What you going west for?”

The woman’s stomach sank. She tried to steady her breathing and keep her voice low and calm. “I told you last night. I want to go west so I can make a life. With you. What you think I packed all my things for?”

“I thought you were just dreaming. Playing pretend, you know? You serious?”

The sun had just barely broken over the tops of the trees. A trickle of golden light streamed through the gaps in the boards and washed through the open door.

“Yes, I’m serious,” the woman’s heart pounded in her chest. “I’ve never been more serious. I want to go west - far west, where ain’t nobody around - and find a place we won’t be bothered. I want to be with you.”

The woman’s eyes brimmed with disbelief and fear.

“You are with me, silly,” her lover reached for her hand. “You’re with me all the time,” she said smiling.

The woman pulled her hand away and sat back on the old and rotting hay. “It ain’t the same!” Her face was getting hot, and she could feel her heart beat in her throat. “Sneaking around? Pretending you’re going to visit your mama? Sleeping in barns and nearly catching death o’ cold?”

Her lover sighed and shifted her weight. She looked around the barn - up at the rafters, down at the floor, over at the stalls - refusing to meet the woman’s gaze.

“I want to share a real bed with you. I want a home. I want a life. We can make a life. A real life. Together.”

The woman’s eyes had softened; she was pleading now. Her lover stared at the floor, shaking her head. Her left thumb instinctively reached for the space between her ring and middle fingers, seeking out the soft bridge connecting them and the hard metal that served as a cold reminder of her place in the world.

After a long moment, she half-whispered, “You know I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can.”

“You know I can’t leave him.”

“Yes! You can!”

The woman hit the hay with her fist as hard as she could, to punctuate the idea. Her lip quivered.

“We’ve talked about this.” Her lover turned to meet her eyes. “He’ll find me.”

“No, he won’t —”

“He’ll find me. And he’ll kill me.”

The woman took her lover’s hand, cradling the soft flesh, savoring its warmth. “I can protect you,” she promised.

A tear welled at the corner of her lover’s eye before climbing over the edge of the lid and sliding down, down, down, creating a track in the dust and the dirt for future tears to follow, much like children sledding in the wintertime.

Her lover shook her head - a barely perceptible motion.

“No. You can’t.”

The woman watched, dumbfounded, heart rent in two and tears hanging in her eyes, as the woman she loved with the entirety of her being gently released her hand from her grip, pushed the blanket off of herself, stood, dressed, and silently walked out the open barn door to seek her horse. Their two horses had been set to pasture after their ride the night before, and they were still there, contentedly chewing the grass and radiating the rising sun.

Once her love had mounted and ridden off toward the east, leaving the woman alone, she slumped down into her blankets, on top of her mildewed hay, inside of her run-down and abandoned barn, wishing she could rewind time and relive the previous night. Savor every second beneath the moon and the stars, when hope was strong and the future fertile. When tomorrow was so close and so far away.

The world outside the termite-eaten walls was alive now, chittering, tittering, humming, and buzzing, as it bathed in the golden hues of dawn. The blue-gray nostalgia of the night before was completely washed away. And the woman had to marvel at how differently the world looked in the light of day.