Pastoral Scene
By: Jason Christopherson
Jason Christopherson is a sophomore English Major at NMSU with a minor in Music. He wrote "Pastoral Scene" whilst listening to a mix of "Venus" by Gustav Holst, "Meanwhile" by Caroline Polachek and "Is it Really You?" by Loathe.
The moon peered, full and high, over a night sky that glimmers and shines with stars, their constellations broken by a slight cloud. While the tops of the pine trees gaze upon the night sky, adoration in their needles, the saturated earth bears host to a small campfire. It had rained an hour before, but now, surrounded by small stones, a modest fire smelling faintly of burning sap and pine needles stood confidently, burning a hole of light into the otherwise oceanic void that surrounded it.
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The wind blows lazily from the cove on the southern side of the forest, washing up like waves on the mountains to the north and east. To Eddie, it was perfect, and Simon was coming home soon, which made the night all the more perfect. He doused the fire with the loam-soaked earth and made his way back to the home he built with Simon.
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The two met about four years ago, when Eddie was a Junior in college and Simon had started his masters, and it was truly love at first sight. The two became inseparable, with a whirlwind romance that was ripped from movies and bled the color of every perfect novel. Every bit of hurt had comfort, and Eddie finally proposed when he graduated from his masters.
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The rest was history. Eddie and Simon moved out to Montana, bought this little slice of land, and worked in peaceful bucolic wonder as they watched the sunset, toasting marshmallows on a fire, or reading in the kitchen with a huddled mass of candles serving as an audience.
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Eddie sighed, relaxation flowing through his body like wind through a field of reeds, as he got home and washed himself up. As he exited his bedroom, he heard a door shut from downstairs. With a smile on his face, Eddie went downstairs and there was Simon, his broad shoulders shrugging off his pea coat, revealing the flannel he bought, at first ironically, when they moved out to Montana. “You’re home!” Eddie beamed, radiant like the moon, as he embraced Simon. Simon returned the embrace with his deep golden arms, his body weight sighing onto Eddie like water upon stone. “How was work?” Eddie asked, muffled from the embrace. Simon ran a hand through Eddie’s hazel toned hair, taking off his shoes and putting them by the door.
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“It was ok…stressful, but that’s just a part of the job. How about yourself?” He asked. Simon worked with a major pharmaceutical company and was overseeing the construction of a new research center in the town of Tomorrow, which is mostly why they moved.
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“Boring. If we didn’t have all of this to ourselves, I’d probably go stir crazy.” he said with a chuckle as he pulled away from Simon. Eddie worked as a freelance architect and designer, and was the mastermind of the cozy, yet luxurious, cabin that they lived in. “What were you thinking for dinner?” He walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and looking inside.
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“You know me, I’m not picky, as long as I don’t have to cook it.” He said with a tired smile. Eddie sighed as he pulled some produce out of a drawer and began to prepare dinner, something simple, with a salad and some wine from last week.
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Dinner was idyllic, candlelit with only the walls to eavesdrop and the furniture to judge. All the while, Eddie felt the same warm buzz in his chest as when he first met Simon; a bounty of love that coursed through his body like ichor. Simon kissed Eddie, Eddie kissed back, and after a while the two fell asleep in each other’s arms, their heartbeats synchronizing, and their breaths bringing solace to one another.
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…
Spires of concrete and glass gaze endlessly into an abyssal night sky. Cold and unforgiving, the brutal mass of skyscrapers extended their antennae skyward, mimicking the cries of the people that live within their cells. How desperately they cry out into the night, for communication. To be held, to be warm, to find solace in anything that doesn’t kill them.
Oh, to exist within the skyscrapers, where only dreams bring warmth, against a sky shattered by concrete.
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The sun rose, and Eddie woke up in Simon’s arms wrapped around him. He smiled to himself, content with being Simon’s captive for a while longer, until a sliver of sunlight dripped into the bedroom through a crack between the curtains. Simon stirred with a slight moan as he woke up, Eddie turning in his arms to see how Simon’s dark hair fell across his face like the bars to some avant-garde work of music. “Morning,” he said sleepily, pulling Eddie just a touch closer.
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“Good morning. You sleep ok?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Simon’s waist. He felt so right under Eddie’s arms, firm and present.
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“Like a stone. I have today off of work today…” He trailed off, his own hands journeying across Eddie’s back. “Would you want to do anything?”
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“Sure, were you thinking more indoors or outdoors?”
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“Maybe…breakfast inside? Board games on the patio, and then we move from there?” With a kiss, Simon rises and stretches, before hopping out of bed and walking into the bathroom to shower. Eddie followed a few minutes after, the day quickly melting into the afternoon which poured over into the evening which fell headfirst into nightfall. Showering turned to breakfast turned to boardgames turned into a hike which wound up back inside, watching the sunset from the sunroom, a bottle of wine split between the two of them. As Eddie fully grounded himself in the moment, he looked into Simon’s kind and endlessly beautiful eyes, the color of jade and springtime. “I don’t think I could have ever imagined a life as perfect as this one. Or someone as perfect as you.”
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“Aww, that’s sweet.” Simon said, a rare blush creeping to his cheeks like the growth of crimson ivy. “And I don’t think I could either. Everything about today was just…perfect.”
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“It was, wasn’t it…and there’s still the night and every other day.” Eddie said with an optimistic smile. Simon chuckled and lifted his wine glass to commend the sentiment. “Though, you probably wanna turn in early, huh?” Simon nodded, opening his phone.
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“I really should. Corporate wants me at the sight overseeing everything at seven, so…pizza?”
“I thought they didn’t deliver out here.”
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“I think I could persuade them.” Simon said with a wink, walking inside. One very polite phone call, and later one obscenely good tip, proved how accurate that statement could be. The two fell asleep, the moon soaring above the sky like a silent observer of bliss.
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…
Rivers of asphalt lacerate the cold earth as the greenery that once thrived on its soil ekes out a living in hushed alleyways and on rooftops. It’s all so cold here, it’s felt in the heart and in the soul. A crushing, heavy mass that weighs and stings and screams with agony on the people of the great metropolises. Every connection feels flimsy, yet thousands of them feel suffocated at the exact same time. The people ache so desperately for the old aphorism of something ‘to have and to hold.’
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So, Eddie and Simon lived this pastoral bliss for a year and traveled the world hand in hand. Each new locale, each new destination, was a new dream and fantasy that they fell for almost as hard as they fell for each other. Again, Eddie felt that warm buzz deep within his heart as he sat next to Simon on a balcony somewhere in Switzerland. He wanted to say that he loved him, cry it from every rooftop, send it to every person that he’s ever spoken to, but knew that the silence was an infinitely deeper expression of love.
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He fell asleep that night holding Simon’s hand, where Eddie suddenly opened his eyes.
He was in his small apartment in the city, the smell of pollution creeping through his windows like frost. He didn’t scream for there was no fear. He didn’t weep because it was expected. It always was. The worst part was turning around, flinching at how cold his bed was.
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He sighed, a weight latching itself back onto his chest. It was always dangerous, he thought, having that daydream, as each time he had it, it felt all the more real. It took Eddie a moment to realize that his hands were shaking, and that tears were springing to his eyes like the river he had dreamt about.
He stumbled out of bed, getting a glass of water from the tap. Drinking it he put the glass in the sink and slumped against the wall, holding his legs as the shaking failed to go away.
‘If only,’ he thought, ‘if only Simon was here. He’d make everything feel better. He’d make me feel warm again.’
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‘I just want to be warm again.’
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