Carol E. Anderson

Over the Edge

And when I looked up, I saw her face, and her piercing brown eyes, tender and wild, and we strolled up the hill to dinner and her fingertips brushed against mine, and we sat on a bench outside and her hand rested on my thigh and I felt the warmth of her leg next to me and the wind crackled through the trees and the sun burned into me and we walked back in the dark and gazed at glistening stars, and she stood behind me, and pointed to Cassiopeia, where the queen shone her light upon us and I felt her breath on my neck, and her words rippled through me, and she said, “Why do I feel like I have to be right up next to you?” and I said, “I was hoping you’d tell me,” and the last night we walked up the hill in darkness and she told me she had a partner and I told her I did too and we promised to be friends, and to ignore the hunger and to untether ourselves and to claw our way back home; and we saw two deer, their eyes piercing through the darkness meeting ours. And we watched them stumble toward the ragged cliff over the bay—their hoofs unsteady on the gravel; and they were way too close to the edge, and we wanted to save them—but it was too late.

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Carol E. Anderson is a life coach whose passions are travel and photography. She holds a doctorate in spiritual studies and an MFA in creative nonfiction. She is the author of You Can’t Buy Love Like That: Growing Up Gay in the Sixties. Carol lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan.