Balwin's house was always very quiet, but this evening it seemed more so. His father didn't make his usual appearance in the living room doorway either.
"My parents are having dinner at the home of one of my father's clients," Balwin explained. "My mother wanted me to go, too. but I told her I had already made plans. My father said it was fine." Balwin quickly added before I could complain that he shouldn't have turned her down. He smiled at me and shook his head. 'He is the one who always insists I go along to show my respect for his clients. I sure can't figure him out these days," he said and continued down the basement stairs.
A dark shadow moved over the hallway toward me, but it was only a cloud floating across the moon, shutting down the light that passed through the windows. I followed Balwin who was already at the piano.
"It's ready," he declared. "I've finally figured out the last verse." I knew he was speaking about the song he had written for me.
I stood at the side of the piano and he began, singing through the part I had heard before and then looking at me during the finished final verse, he sang:
.
Yes, there is music in the silence of her smile. There is a melody in her eyes.
Then she looks at me,
I feel my heart begin to sing.
I feel the glory that her lips can bring. I understand the true reason for the spring The burst of blossoms, the song of birds And I lift my own lips and eyes to be caressed
by her bejeweled voice.
So Play, play this song of you.
Play for the old and play it for the new. Play at the break of day and pay in the twilight
how... Play away the sadness and the sorrow. Walk before the saddest eyes you see. Walk and bring the music back to me. .
When he lifted his finders from the keys and sat
back. I just stared at him. The music was still riming in my ears. He formed a tentative, insecure smile. "Is it all right?" he finally asked.
I nodded and then he stood up quickly, his face twisted with confusion.
"Ice," he said. "Ice, there are tears streaking down your cheeks. What is it?" he asked stepping closer. He touched one of my tears as if he had to feel it to believe it. Then he brought his fingers to his lips.
"Beautiful," I whispered.
"Like you." he said.
His face moved toward mine in such small incremental movements, it was silly slow motion. but I didn't step back or turn away. We kissed, a soft, long kiss, neither of us lifting our hands from our sides. When he pulled away, his eyes were still closed as if he was trying to savor every lingering delicious moment.
"When I kiss you, it's like bringing the words to the music, making it complete," he said.
I smiled and he kissed me again. His left hand went to my waist and his right to my shoulder. I put my arms around him and we held each other, our lips holding us as though all the magnetic magic was there at our mouths.
"The song was the only way I could tell you how I felt about you," he said softly. "I feel it all here," he added, placing his hand over his heart.
I nodded and he took me by the hand and walked me to the settee. We sat beside each other just looking at each other. When someone has so much creativity and talent inside him as Balwin has. I thought, it becomes a more solid identity, far deeper than any mask of male good looks. His feelings for me weren't only in his eyes and on his lips; they were in his very being. I was overwhelmed by his sincerity and his hunger for my approval and love.
Yet. I couldn't help feeling a little afraid as well, but not afraid for myself as much as I was afraid for him. Such total love as Balwin was expressing for me made someone, especially someone like him, as vulnerable as a turtle out of its shell. I did not know myself if I loved or cared for him half as much as he apparently cared for me. He longed to hear me say so. His eyes told me that.
But I did not know if what I felt for him at the moment was all or as much as any woman could feel for any man. Was this what love was? Instinctively, I felt that love meant caring for someone more than you cared for anyone else, even yourself, but I also understood that you needed him to feel the same way or you were incomplete, lost. Could I feel anywhere as intense about Balwin as he obviously could feel about me? Wouldn't he feel incomplete, lost, if I didn't? It took the greatest trust to utter the words, "I love you." to anyone because he might laugh or reject you and leave you as exposed as that turtle.
What would happen then?
Would you be afraid to ever utter those words again? Silence. I realized, was so safe.
As if he could hear the debate in my mind. Balwin leaned forward to end it with a long and far more passionate kiss. He moved his lips over my cheek and up to my eyes. He kissed my forehead, my hair and then my lips again. I did not stop him or pull back and his excitement built faster and faster. I thought I could hear his heart beating against mine, or was that only my own, pounding?