Midnight Cove

I drifted in and out of consciousness plagued by the same nightmare, over and over. The image of a woman I once knew came back to me. She was a friend, Anna was her name. But how I knew her I could not recall. She once told me that 'love only needs love to survive.'

She was a beautiful dark woman with soft glistening skin and big brown eyes, the size of them like small saucers, evenly set between her broad nose. She was a warm woman that had a brightness about her person making her all the more alluring in her appearance. I often found solace in her wisdom. Now, these simple words from a friend haunted every crevice of my mind. Love only needs love to survive.

I woke up in sweat, tears streamed down my cheeks and stained my pillow. I allowed the tears to seep out from the corners of my eyes, tickling the bridge of my nose as they slowly crawled across my swollen face. It is usually infuriating enough to cry, but with the inevitable swelling that appears, it only doubles the self-loathing. Still, it wasn't so bad, at least there was no one there to watch me pity myself.

I needed to feel loved. Only I didn't know how that was possible. I didn't have any hopes of falling in love. I knew I was optimistic, happy, and of course, to many people I was pretty. I knew I could find someone and get married; settle down eventually, but that isn't what I wanted. I have always been a hopeless romantic. I believe that there is one person for every soul born on this planet. I completely believe in soul mates, but I also believed that deep down I was already too jaded to find that kind of happiness, that kind of love.

I swallowed down my fears and sighed. Irritated with myself for both my dreams and my crying fit, I wanted to get up and escape the bedroom entirely. I didn't even bother to fix the bed, which was way outside of my normal routine. I threw on some knee length denim shorts and a baseball tee shirt and headed round the partition to my "living room".

Having a studio apartment meant that everything, besides the bathroom, was crammed all together in one room, including the kitchen sink. My place spanned the entire area of the three car garage lying just beneath my floorboards. On the weekends, I used to frequent the seaside bazaars and farmer's markets. On one of my rummaging trips I got lucky; two hand-painted folding screens within budget became my prized room accents. Using these beautiful partitions I separated my bedroom area on one side from the eat-in kitchen on the other; freeing up my couch, coffee table, and t.v. stand in the center of the room.

I walked into the living room and was completely shocked. The huge double paned windows stood on either side of my front entry and ran almost the entire length of my apartment on both sides. I had only white gossamer drapes hung to better let in the sunlight. Up here, above the garage, I was away from prying eyes. I felt safe enough with Terry to know he would never invade my space.

In fact, in the past year that I had rented from him, he hadn't once come over, even for the rent check. I just left it in his mailbox, as always. So, having sheer curtains only seemed natural to me, and was never a concern. It was another attribute as to why I loved my place so much. Standing in my living room then, looking out over the backyard, I was dumbfounded at the sight of a black starry night. I let out a small gasp. I had slept through the entire day.

It was such a wasteful way to spend a summer day, I thought. It didn't matter now. The day had passed, just like my disturbing dream, and I was left with a sky as black as paint and splattered with stars. I decided to take a late stroll through the gardens. I donned my flip-flop sandals and headed out. The warmth of the night air hit me the moment I stepped onto the deck. I left the doors open and the table lamp on, so I wouldn't stumble down the stairs while on my way to the garden.

It was hot and sticky that night. The air had a damp, heavy feel to it that I could never forget. Encinitas has a microclimate, the temperature there stays cooler during summers and warmer in the winters. It had a way of making me feel glamorous just by living there.

I was a dreamer at heart and never had much money. I loved to travel and saved every extra penny I made. I promised myself I would take a vacation somewhere exotic someday. My sister never married and she never had much of a nest egg, so we were far from being the glamorous stars of Hollywood. In fact, I never once spotted a famous person. I had heard stories and met people that boasted about having rubbed elbows with some celebrities, but never myself. The closest thing to being famous was walking in Terry's garden.

One afternoon, we spent watching some of his home movies together; old films, filled with youth, and friends, and their unending love for the summer. It was wonderful to see their silly antics and old Woody cars. I really loved it. I think Terry could sense it too because we really got along after that day. I was just Bonnie, like some friend that hung out in his backyard and never wanted to go home.

He was once a famous longboard surfer who traveled the world. Of course, because he was big on the surfboarding circuit he had earned a small fortune during his adventures. I didn't know quite how much; I don't think I even wanted to know, but I knew a lot of it was invested into his home. The house was quite an asset, and the garden was the crown jewel.

I stepped off the last stair and onto the first large flagstone placed purposefully throughout the massive yard. The darkness covered me; the night as black as pitch. I was overrun by the sweet smell of the night blooming jasmine mixed with the delicate scent of evening primroses. I took an extra deep breath of their intoxicating aroma.

I meandered along taking great pleasure in the garden's night blossoms. The creeping white moonflowers covered the back walls, and splashes of pink, red, and purple nicotiana bushed out randomly, breaking the onslaught of white flowers. The tinkling sound of a small waterfall alerted me; I was nearing the coy ponds. I sought the handrail and ascended the three small steps under the tree canopy on the north corner of the property.

I didn't pause by the waterfall; afraid with the dark night a shade deeper here I would somehow fall into those deep pools. Instead, I turned left following the path and the quiet chirp of crickets. I found myself secluded in a small recess of the garden. A stone bench set beneath a white trellis overgrown with moonflowers. Angel's trumpets, with their droopy, yellow blossoms were hanging from branches as high as ten feet above me. Their long colorful blossoms must have reached a foot in length.

I sat down on the bench and looked up to the stars. I tried to find the constellations but was never good with heavenly bodies. Not sure of even which one was the north star, I gave up and tried to just enjoy their shimmering beauty. Sitting there, beneath the vastness of the cosmos, loneliness crept back into my chest. I heaved a sigh and arched my back; straining my neck to take in a greater view of the sky above. A light flashed across the sky, a shooting star, and in my own impetus over such a trivial occurrence I let go of the stone bench and fell backwards onto the ground.

"Oh!" I said. My breath came out in a huff.

"Are you alright?" A voice came from the darkness, as smooth as velvet.