Start Small: A Small Collection Read online

Start Small: A Small Collection

  By

  Tony DiGerolamo

  *****

  *****

  Copyright © Tony DiGerolamo 2012

  Before you begin, I would just like to take a moment and thank you for taking the time to read this debut collection. If you enjoy the works, or even just one of them, please take a moment to leave a review. Again, thank you, and, please, enjoy!

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  “Will It Ever Be As Perfect As This?”

  An endless supply of beer and liquor made their temporary escape much easier than they anticipated. Each of them had spent the previous thirty minutes mingling with guests, waiting for the moment when they could be alone for the first time on this hectic day. They had agreed to rendezvous on the beach adjacent to the elegant hotel that was hosting the reception. She watched him as he easily snuck away, his outfit allowing him to blend in with the sharply dressed guests. Her get away should have been much more noticeable but, surprisingly, she managed to, without incident, make her way out of the building and onto the large wooden deck overlooking the beach. No one seemed to notice.

  She finds the mid-summer sun ducking behind the endless expanse of ocean water, transforming the sky from clear, blue and bland into a menagerie of stretched and squeezed purples, oranges, pinks and reds. She closes her eyes as the light breeze sweeping across the deck causes her hair to gently sway. She takes in a deep breath of the fresh, salty air before removing the sleek, sexy shoes from her freshly pedicured feet. As daintily as possible, she grabs handfuls of the embroidered white satin and lifts the dress up to her thighs. She excitedly walks off the deck and on to the beach; the sand cool after hours of shade has drained the heat from it.

  He has been waiting for a few minutes, standing behind a large deposit of beach grass, just staring out across the ocean. His mind seems to be wrestling with heavy thoughts, his motions stiff and his face stern. Just as he was beginning to abandon hope that he would be able to share a few moments alone with her, he sees the bride out of the corner of his eye. The way she holds her dress and to tip-toes along the sand is an awkwardly elegant sight. With his hands in his pockets he turns to face her.

  “Hey stranger,” she playfully greets him.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m waiting for somebody.” He returns her playfulness.

  “Must be somebody pretty special if you’re all dressed up for her.”

  “Who said it was a ‘her’?” Unable to maintain a straight face, his expression morphs to an ear to ear smile.

  She moves right next to him, the uneven sand shifting their natural heights. While he rests in a depression in the ground, she stands taller than usual. Their eyes are nearly level. While simply gazing at each other, both individuals twist their feet into the sand, almost nervous to make a move. The sunset casts a warm glow over the couple and their secret spot. Waves gently crash into the beach and the wind causes the tall grass to lightly rustle. In the distance, music from the reception subtly leaks into the natural scene, every few seconds voices yelling “SHOUT!” echo out along the beach.

  “You know, this is one of my favorite songs,” his voice is soft and sensual, “I’d hate to miss it for no good reason.”

  Her small, delicate lips form a smirk as she releases her grip of the gown. With her hands now free, she extends them forward, tightly gripping the back of his neck. His hands move with purpose, gently grabbing her chin. They both lean in, eyes tightly shut. Their lips collide. Forceful and sweet, passionate and lustful. They pull away from each other, both slowly exhale and smile. The duo stands there, stuck in the moment until a large wave slams into the thick, wet sand and disrupts their connection.

  “We should probably get back. I imagine people are going to notice.” The bride seems disappointed to say the words.

  “You’re probably right. I bet no one would notice if you didn’t decide to wear a big, white dress.” His joke is met with a light giggle.

  “You wouldn’t want to carry me back up to the deck, would you?”

  He laughs as he shakes his head at her. She grabs his hand and begins to walk away only to be stopped after a single step, “Wait.” He stoically stands his ground as he gently tugs on her arm.

  She gently glides her feet along the sand and moves in close to him, resting her head on his chest, “What?”

  “Do you think that-” He pauses his question as a new song begins to intrude into the small world the two now reside in, its tempo slow and thoughtful. He rests his hands on her back and begins to sway in rhythm.

  “What were you going to say?” She wraps her arms around him, squeezing tightly, shutting her eyes, taking a deep breath and following his lead.

  He holds her in his arms and looks out at the sun. The beautiful colors have begun to fade; a blanket of darkness tucking them away for the night. He shuts his eyes and continues to sway in rhythm, “Nothing.”

  Big Spoon

  Old springs press against me

  as I lay on my side,

  awkwardly balanced on my hip.

  My arm twists uncomfortably

  under her neck.

  She touches my hand

  with tips and nails.

  Soft and gentle.

  My chest and stomach

  are pressed against her back;

  the curves of our bodies

  fit together

  like puzzle pieces.

  Skin touching skin.

  A strange trade happens.

  Warmth for warmth.

  She gets the better deal.

  My feet alternate position,

  searching for comfort.

  She tells me to stop fidgeting.

  I never listen.

  My toes brush against

  the bottoms of her feet.

  They find comfort,

  but it only lasts a moment

  She doesn’t like the feeling.

  She doesn’t like my feet.

  I’ll never understand why.

  The search must continue.

  My other arm is draped

  across her body.

  She holds my hand

  firmly against her chest

  The slow, steady beat of her heart

  stubbornly attempts

  to push my hand away.

  I can feel her breath

  brush past the tips of my fingers.

  It’s an odd feeling,

  but for some reason

  it makes me feel loved.

  My lips are lined up with her shoulder,

  at the perfect range

  for a kiss.

  A few soft pecks.

  She takes the cue

  and slightly twists toward me,

  not fully committing.

  Forcing me to compensate.

  She does it on purpose.

  Her neck rests at an uncomfortable angle,

  as she returns my kiss

  playfully

  on the tip of my nose.

  She rolls back into position,

  putting the puzzle

  together again.

  We trade good nights

  and confessions of love.

  I struggle to remove my arm from under her head.

  Ruining the moment,

  but only for a moment.

  Finally,

  our puzzle is broken down

  and put away.

  Saved for another night.

  Our positions change,

  and I can’t quite seem

  to get comfortable any more.