Mary Jo Baetzold

Grade: 12

Mayfield High School

Instructor: Kari Beery

A Voiceless Conversation

Flash Fiction

A Voiceless Conversation

My mind raced but had never felt so calm, as if the speed of my thoughts soothed the normal emptiness of my brain. Something so new, so exciting felt like a nostalgic place — relaxing, peaceful, home.

"I can't believe you have never seen Grown Ups. What kind of uncultured life have you let yourself live for so long?" He questioned me as we finally decided on the movie an hour prior. He shook his head but a slight smile peaked from behind his disapproving mask.

"Hey, I'm giving it a try now. I'm sorry I offended your perfect taste."

Teasing, I gave him a light punch on the shoulder and turned back around, the opening sequence illuminating the dark room in which we remained.

As the title bolded itself across the screen, he pulled me closer, my legs between his, his arms wrapped tightly but gently around the front of me, my back resting against his chest. Flaming through my entire body, his warmth traveled across my skin, keeping me snug for days, weeks, even now.

As the movie progressed, I noticed his sweet tendencies when he found a quote amusing. His chuckle would tickle the back of my neck. Every time he admired a line, he would repeat it out loud to me, as if it somehow took an echo of the quote to truly resonate its humor. While I could find this habit most annoying with anyone else, I couldn't help but look back, sneak a smile across my lips, and roll my eyes playfully at his habit. But he just kept watching the screen, as if his little quirk didn't disrupt the movie every five minutes.

I had anticipated this night for days, weeks. Recalling the night we really hit it off, we hadn't met in person yet. Merely texting, unexposed to the beauty of speaking with eyes locked into each other's, smiles spreading at our jokes, compliments and countless conversations. Those endless discussions flew by, opening messages as soon as they were received, replying with the swift motion of fingers flying across a keyboard. To have someone attached to those wonderful words felt like finding the solution to a long, exhausting problem, a missing piece of a puzzle you knew existed but got lost among the others.

I could feel him fidgeting, and it made me question If I had done anything wrong. I knew from the days upon days of flirtatious texts that a kiss would be expected. But at that moment, I didn't expect it. I didn't even think he would want to. Isn't he too absorbed in the movie to possibly have a second to think about my lips? Subconsciously, I believed that there was no way his mind was thinking about anything other than Adam Sandler. I guess I was wrong. His hesitant fidgets turned into careful and intentional movements. Leaning his head around, his hands lightly grabbed the sides of my arms, twisting me toward him. He looked me in the eyes, a kind gaze into me: loving, tender, inviting. A smile sweetly spread across his face, small but mighty, enough to trust in him, in myself, in the moment. The wisps and straggling strands of hair covered my face but not for long. He pushed them aside as if they were curtains, opening to the bright sunshine of my gleaming and anticipating eyes. His hand cautiously found its way to my chin, pulling me to him. The closer I got, the more my breath wavered. My lips parted and as ours met, a calm rushed over me. His lips. So warm. So gentle. Drawing away from him, only inches, we locked eyes as they opened up from the moment we would forever hold in our hearts. That smile spread across both of our faces this time. He liked it, I thought. And I did too. I loved it. And before I had a second to recuperate my burning hot temperature, he pulled me in once more, this time with a little more force, a little more passion, a little more courage. My skin turned to flames, heart on fire, mind raced in a beautiful, hazy speed. I don't want to leave this moment. As I drew slowly back, his eyes met mine, a shine so bright, twinkling like the strands of a yellow golden glow hanging on a tree. How could something so bright fill such deep and dark brown eyes?

In that moment, I didn't need words, no verbal language could speak for the feelings that had formed. Our stares, our touches, our hidden language spoke what the most beautifully constructed sentence could not. And I wanted that voiceless conversation to continue forever.