Nature Lover

Light wiggled its way onto the trunks of trees. Reflected from the water, it does its strip tease on grass or granite boulders, on anything really. Coyly, to celebrate the end of another day. The air settled, foamy and warm, around my feet. September on the Consumnes River. My bathing suit pressed cool to my body, still damp from my last swim.

Dragonflies frothed around the rapids to my left. A few bats, early to the night, were skipping stones above my head. I'd made my way up to our family cabin in August in search of some time alone and had spent every dusk at the water's edge.

I sat on the shore and hung my legs into the river. It was getting lower, warmer as fall ripened. I watched as a brave, pickle-sized fish swam toward my toes. It hovered closer and closer without ever making contact. A crackle of snapping twigs from the bank opposite interrupted. I jumped. My fish disappeared, becoming indistinguishable from the rocks that lined the riverbed.

I wasn't expecting him. He looked sun-messy and like he smelled how a cat does when it finally comes back from the garden. He was bulky and filled out a t-shirt that was worn so thin that my mother would have decided it was no longer wearable and cut it up to polish silver. It clung to him, but he took it off. He kicked off his shoes too, and jumped into the water.

A clean dive. I could see him through the skin of the water. Both of his arms outstretched and pointed in front of him. I took in his back, shoulders. Under water, they dissolved and twisted. He popped up not too far from me. I ached for him to come hover by me like a fish, getting closer and closer. Only thick, magnetic space left in between.

"Evening," he said as he dipped his head behind him, allowing the river to pull the hair from his eyes. His neck displayed like a gift.

"Evening," I said back, staying as still as I could as not to upset the balance of anything.

He turned and found his shore after two long strokes. I watched him walk out, water dancing down him. He picked up his shirt, slid on his shoes, and turned back to me, raising whatever fingers had the energy in a wave goodbye.

The water felt even lower without his presence to displace it. I felt the ripples he left make their way up and down my calf.

I thought about him the next morning. In the cabin, I made coffee. I lowered two scoops of the Maxwell House into the coffee pot. It gurgled, gave off steam. I wondered and re-lived. All day, I felt a string pulling me down to the river by my belly button.

I let myself go down to the water around five o'clock, sticking to my sunset schedule. The sand burned my bare feet as I made my way to my usual spot. I picked up my pace and dipped my feet into the water as soon as I reached the edge. My soles went icy from the quick temperature change. I took off my denim shorts and waded into the water. It was harder this way, a slower and colder-feeling entrance. My breath caught as the water reached my stomach. Unable to stand the slow entry any longer, I dove under.

I wound my way through the river for a while. Leaving my own breadcrumb trails and picking them up. I finally rested on my back feeling the current carry me toward the small set of rapids where the dragonflies liked to hunt and mate.

I felt him before I saw him. Picked up by the swell of a wave, I was brought closer to the rapids. I could feel their current pulling harder on my skin. I stood up in the water and looked behind me. His head was just breaking the surface.

"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to disturb you."

"That's alright," I said, wringing out my hair.

He submerged himself and popped up again, making his way over to my shore. He pushed himself onto it with both arms. I took a few strokes away from the rapids as not to stare.

"Nice night," he said.

I looked up at the tops of the trees, which were dipped in gold sun.

"It is," I said. "This place is something isn't it?" I added to keep things going.

"Yeah," he said. "As soon as I saw the river, I knew I needed to move. See it everyday. I'd been up in around Napa, you know, not city, but more city than this. But, in comparison."

"Can't be beat," I added. "What do you do up here, work wise, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Wineries," he said. "That's what I did over in Napa, but there are plenty out here too."

I nodded. Moved my fingers across the top of the water. A swarm of mosquitoes peppered the air to my right.

"What about you?" he asked. "What do you do?"

"I write," I said.

He nodded his head as he took this in. I took him in. The ends of his hair, which I remembered as messy, brown, and long-ish when dry, released droplets onto his shoulder and down to his forearm to his hand. I looked up. He was looking at me. His eyes moved up to my face.

"Is that what you're doing up here?" he asked.

"Trying to," I said. "Just for the rest of the month."

"Are you writing about this?" he gestured to our surroundings.

"No, but maybe I should be," I said. "It's a lot more interesting than what I actually am writing about."

"You know what you could write about?"

"Hm?"

"Today I was upstream, you know where there is that rope swing?"

I nodded.

"I saw something move by the trail. I heard whatever it was making all this noise. I got even closer and I saw all this fluff wiggling, like a bunch of dandelions wiggling. And, I got even closer and realized that they were a dozen quail. Young ones. They were so goddamn small."

He looked at me with fresh delight and disbelief. Stubbled covered his face and his smile flashed like a bulb in the midst of it.

"Did they have the curls, like their little 'q' on top?" I asked.

"Not yet," he said.

"That's cool," I said. "I'll keep that in mind. When I'm writing."

"I don't really know what it was about it," he said.

"Don't have to," I said. "It's a window into a part of a life you never knew existed."

"Exactly," he said, nodding earnestly.

Quiet settled between us. River flowed between us. His feet hanging in it this time.

He cleared his throat and picked his feet out of the water.

"I should probably get going," he said.

He moved from my river bank, across the concrete of the dam that led to the rapids, and over to his bank where his shirt and shoes once again lay.

"Nice talking to you," he said. "Good luck writing."

"You too," I shot back his way. "Thank you."

He turned and gave me the same relaxed wave as yesterday.

Of course, I went to the water the next day at sunset. I sat on the bank, reading this time. My eyes worked their way across the same five sentences, retaining nothing, and moved back to the start again.

Every so often I would shift my gaze to his bank, hoping to see him cut through the drooping tree branches. The bats dipped, the mosquitos swarmed, the crawdads crawled along the riverbed, and the sun set. Without seeing him and without reading anything at all, I made my way back up to the cabin.

For the next two weeks, he didn't come down to the river. I went every evening as my routine dictated. The first few days I felt heartheavy. I figured that to him our conversation had just been a pleasant one between strangers. I'd been reading into the look he gave me, into that magnetic feeling. The next few days felt more detached from the whole thing. What was it really? Just two meetings? By the end of the first week, it was just me and the river again. I scrambled on the rocks around it and felt strong. I watched a hummingbird vibrate past me. Sometimes deer clomped the underbrush as they searched for dinner and I looked up to see what it was. By the end of the second week, I never expected him to show up, but hoped he would.

The evening before I was meant to leave, I got down to the river late. Packing kept me until the sunset was already in full swing. The trees were smeared with a tangerine glow. The fool's gold in the sand caught the light. Pine needle air made a clean exit through my body. Fat, brown birds that could fit in my palm ruffled their feathers in the powdery dirt of the trail. Other birds, jays, woodpeckers, had their social hour up above. Moving and shaking before bedtime.

When I reached the water, he was already there. Sitting on the dam, feet buoyed in the rush of the rapids. He didn't hear me as I got closer. As his back was to me, he didn't see me either. His hair was drying, like he'd jumped in a while ago. I took a look at his broad shoulders and let myself linger for a moment. I pulled off the t-shirt I was wearing and jumped in. The water felt smooth. It was warm now, the last runoff of the snow. No longer freshly melted. I had to watch where I was to dive so as to not hit bottom. I reached the top and took a long breath. When I opened my eyes, he was facing me.

"Hi," I said.

"Hello," he said back.

He flipped himself around and waded into the water. He dipped himself under and took a few strokes towards me.

"I'm glad I caught you before you left," he said. "I was stuck in the Bay for work and I wasn't sure if I'd miss you."

"Perfect timing," I said, feeling a charge run through my body. He'd been thinking of me too. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

"Writing time's up?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"I was thinking about you writing," he said. "About the quail."

"I haven't yet," I said. "I'm saving that."

"I'll look for it," he said. "I'll look for your stuff."

"Yes," I said.

We both bobbed in the water. The current was coming from behind me. I felt it rushing, slowly and nearly imperceptibly along my back, around my sides, and towards him.

"Um, I was also just thinking about you," he said.

"What about me?" I asked. I let the current carry me closer to him.

"You in the sun down here, I guess," he answered. A sheepish tone replacing the relaxed one I was used to.

"I was looking for you," I said. "Or, I guess waiting to see if you would come down here."

"I'm here," he said.

I felt a thick electricity. I could almost hear it buzzing like a telephone wire. My heart beat in my ears.

I reached my hand behind my head and grabbed one of the strings of my bikini top. I pulled the tie until it unfastened. I let the strings lie loose on my neck as I untied the strings at my back. I let the current take my top to him. He caught it. His eyes on me, taking me in. I reached down and slipped off my bottoms. They rose to the surface and made their way towards him. He caught them too. He covered the ground between us. We were closer than we ever had been. I took in his eyes, they were a light brown. He had faint freckles on his nose. Hair curled on his wide chest.

The water lapped just below my collarbone. Our breath humid between us. He reached out his arm and set my suit on the bank. This close, I smelled him. He smelled just like I expected, sun and dirt settled into him like smoke in fabric curtains.

His shoulders his neck his face. I was taking him in when I felt him touch me for the first time.

His fingers, weightless underwater, grazed the small of my back. They disappeared and one hand reappeared between my legs. Lightly, he felt me. I could feel my heartbeat meeting his fingers and the river water seemed cooler suddenly, compared to my own heat. He slipped his fingers inside of me. I moaned.

He reached his hand behind my head, it was firm, warm. Urgently, kissed me. He pulled me close to him, our hip bones pressing into each other. I reached my hand behind his head and knotted my fingers in his hair. He responded, pulled me even tighter. I kissed him harder, biting his bottom lip. He let his hands run along my hips, my ass. He rested his hands under my thighs. Holding tight. I wrapped my legs around him. I could feel him through his shorts, he was so stiff and I ached for him to be inside me.

He carried us through the water toward his shore, his lips moving down my neck.

He let my legs go and I laid down on the wet sand. He moved his kisses from my neck, down my chest, and down further. I moaned. He made circles, he sucked, he kissed. He put his fingers back inside me, curling them inward. I forgot where we were. Blood rushing through my body like river water.

"Come here," I said.

He stopped and looked up at me from between my legs. He came back up to me, his body covering mine, and kissed me.

I reached my hand down to his swim trunks and felt for him. I found him. He rubbed against my palm and groaned. I motioned for him to take his trunks off. He did. I pulled him back to me and he kissed me again. He pulled my head back with my hair and kissed my neck. His kiss traveled down to my nipple and then on his way back up to my neck, he entered me.

He was inside of me. We made indents of ourselves on the sand. Sticks scratched my arms. We went faster, moving together. I reached down and touched myself. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm creeping toward me.

"Fuck," I said as I felt the sensation building. "Fuck me harder."

He flipped me over and I got on my hands and knees. He entered me from behind and pulled my body to his.

"I need to make you cum," he said.

He held me close, thrusting into me harder and faster. He took one hand and started touching me as I had been. I put my hand over his and showed him where and how. I closed my eyes. I felt the feeling again, the warm, cold gathering of an orgasm. I felt his hot breath against my face. He grunted into my ear. I tilted my head back. My breath grew heavier.

"Are you going to cum for me?" he said.

His dick in me. His fingers on me. His breath and body moved toward me and away.

Heat colliding and leaving in intervals.

"Yes," I answered.

The sensation widened and widened, ballooning.

"Oh, god," I breathed.

"Yeah," he said. "Like that."

He thrusted into me even harder, faster. I arched my back and let it run over me. Rapids. Whitewater.

He followed, letting out a groan and leaning some of the weight of his body onto mine. I opened my eyes to a set sun. To fresh night. The light in the sky was electric blue. Mars sat above, smack in the middle of the sky, a pink seashell ball on the smoothness of space. I felt his breath warm at my neck. He smelled like grass and oak leaves.

"Will you write about this?" he asked me softly in my ear.