“Love Me with the Lights On” by Carmine Gothard
[vc_row][vc_column width=”1/1″][vc_column_text]I am holding hands with a girl who feels like the first ounce of morning peeking through after the dark. Coffee shops have always been a safe sort of refuge, the smell of chai filters through the air as we talk about love and life and everything in between. Hazy sunlight pours in through the windows, and I am falling in love with the warmth of it all. My fingertips trace over the inside of her wrist. This is the summer of soft lightning and gentle rain, love poems whispered behind the safety of locked bedroom doors, and stolen cigarette butts flicked across the sky like shooting stars. She starts to talk science, and I am suddenly learning about human anatomy in an entirely new way.
Love, teach me about the way two people can breathe into one another, how that will be enough for them to live forever. I want to know where the best place is for me to plant flowers inside of your bones, so you will always have a garden. Show me how it was possible for you to fit the entire ocean in your eyes-
Tell me what it is that makes your heart beat.
I could have listened for hours.
But a man walks in and stops in front of us. His gaze is stuck on our hands, and I grip her tighter.
We leave half-finished coffee and a little bit of ourselves on the table.
I hold her close as we walk past. I am caught breathless between him and the door, and just loud enough for the shop to hear,
“Fucking dykes.”
But then we’re out in the sun and I can breathe again, and we’re safe and I reach for her hand-
and she lets go.
I am dating a girl whose eyes hold the seven seas behind them. She parks the car and I am wishing for more of her. Half an hour between work and staff meetings was enough time to drive to start falling, but I am still stuck wading in the shallows.
Darling, I want to dive in deep. I have seen you look up every so often, and I know that those eyes are capable of sinking ships far greater than those I could possibly imagine. I’m not just here for an afternoon swim, give me a flashlight and I will find my way through your darkest parts.
The alarm on my phone goes off before I can say anything. We kiss goodbye in the shelter of the car, again, something so fast.
A quick peck on the lips and half a smoothie is all I could give to the girl who breathes life into life itself.
I am sprinting through the school to get to the staff meeting, and once I find a seat among my colleagues, time slows to a stop. We need to teach our kids to be kinder and work on making our school a more joyful experience, we’re told. We need to encourage them to play nicely with their friends. And also, “Someone broke the clock in the gym.” Meeting adjourned.
Except, “Carmine, can you stay a minute?”
Mr. Thomston: “We do not tolerate any form of PDA at this school.”
Ms. Wayne: “This is a professional environment.”
Mrs. Haux: “This is a warning, the next time we are going to have to let you go.”
A chorus of ignorance rises, and with it, a sharpened reminder that my body is taking up far too much innocent space: “There are children here.”
But we were also children. Two girls, falling into the oceans of one another, two girls, dancing to fluttering heartbeats in summer storms, two girls and first kisses and new love.
But I am professional. This hasn’t made me any less of a good teacher. My kids are so wonderful, and so kind. And I’m the one who broke the clock in the gym, but my kids and I had a hell of a great time with it, learning that not everyone is perfect.
I thought it was safe to give her a quick kiss goodbye in the shelter of our own car.
I am so sorry for loving wrong.
And my god… do I wish my words would have worked.
When I told the girl with oceans for eyes, she secretly sunk every ship on the horizon. A storm built up inside of her, and though the thunder crashed so violently behind closed doors, she never picked me up from work again.
I am kissing a girl who tastes like stardust. I didn’t know the stars had a flavor until she brought me in close, and they tasted like ambition and fire with a lingering hope tangled up in the mess. I am holding the other part of me, the essence of why I am who I am. And, for the moment, I am safe.
Let me create new constellations across your collarbones. I want to trace the universe of your spine and breathe in the galaxies you breathe out. Let me climb into your skies, you, my love, are made entirely of star stuff.
She walks me out to my car late at night and leans in through the window. And she wants to kiss me and I want to kiss her, but a woman walks by with her dog, so we give each other a gentle squeeze and leave it at that.
I am running through a field of flowers with her and everything is in full bloom, but it is also broad daylight and I cannot risk it. There are children here. Someone might see, and that might just be the end of it all.
We are entwined on the couch in her basement, the door locked behind us. The girl who tastes like starstuff is running her fingertips up and down the inside of my forearm, and I am counting her ribs like rosary beads.
Forgive me Father for I have sinned, but give me the chance, and I would do it all again.
She gets up and turns off the light before coming back. And we both breathe a little easier.
Some darkness is just safer than others.
I am in love with a girl who feels like home. She is snowflakes caught on my tongue under streetlamps, smeared lipstick and expensive whiskey, messy hair that smells like vanilla and running and running and running. I am constantly finding her in champagne kisses and dandelion wishes, rose petals on top of satin and lavender buds on white linen, nightlights, and summer storms – she is in every way, every bit of light in this life. I fall asleep to our matching heartbeats, and wake with my ear pressed against her chest, every thump, every drum, every inhale, every beat of her heart, echoes of home, and she is all I have ever wanted love to be.
We are making our way across campus, and her arm wraps itself around my waist. A group of boys walk across the street, eyes fixed on us, and I shrink away.
Darling, love me still, but love me softly.
The boys are next to us and I can’t breathe. I am falling to the sidewalk in the chalk outline of a body. Yellow tape wraps itself around my heart and my hands and
Caution: Please step back
Caution: I can only love you in the dark
Caution: Please turn off the lights because that is the only place I feel safe enough to be with you.
Her hand finds a place in mine and she holds me close. “I dare you to take this away from me,” she whispers to the wind.
And for the first time, I kiss her, with all of the lights on.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/1″][vc_column_text]
Carmine is 20 years old and lives in Northern Virginia. She is currently teaching preschool and getting a degree in criminal psychology in hopes of working one day for the FBI. Carmine loves animal puns and dinosaurs and has a German Shepherd named Coco.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]
