Sometimes, it feels like anything is possible…
By Joanna Li
“I like the summer rain, I like the sounds you make.”
Somewhere between half melted ice creams and stifled giggles in the art gallery, blistering day had turned to night. It rained, then it stopped, the sidewalks slippery and the air warm and heavy. Both of you were soaked, and you wordlessly pass her your jumper as the night sets in. Even with the hood pulled up over limp hair, she’s the most extraordinary thing you’ve ever seen.
Looking at her, sometimes it’s possible to believe she thinks the same about you. She looks at you the same way she looks when she plays the saxophone, focused and proud and startling. It’s the very thing that first caught your eye. Ironic, the way her smooth gait and posture matches the careful polish of brass, while on the other hand, you’re as clumsy and loud as the drums you bang at the back. That’s how you met, after all. That’s how you’re here now, with her.
Sometimes, it feels like anything is possible.
There’s a low hum on the pier, the soft lapping of waves on the hull of a moored boat, the murmured laughter from the cafes behind you, and it feels like the shuffling of the cinema audience, with muted phones and dropped popcorn. You’re on wide screen, big and awkward, and she’s the dazzling star, all soft smiles and curves. The two of you sitting on the docks, feet dangling over a dark water you can’t see. The moon and streetlights bleaching everything colourless. It’s a damn film noir, and you both know it.
You never said you weren’t cheesy saps.
She stands up, holding out her hand to you. “Dance with me.” A request, not a question, and you comply with a smirk. You’re an awful dancer, and she knows it.
You dance anyway, tripping and laughing and clutching each other. She hums out a waltz, high and wobbling, lacing her hands behind your neck. You are untouchable, you are invincible. You are together.
Somewhere on the wharf, the jazz band plays on.