Oliver Benjamin
An hour later the rest of the universe would fall away as well to
reveal what I had known all along and had never forgotten: that I
loved Charly Witherspoon with all my Atman, and that at that
moment there was no other truth in the world as worth knowing as
that.
“How did you know I was going to be here?” I asked as we got
into her car.
She just smiled and said, “A little lama told me.”
As we lay in her bed that night, naked in every way, I touched my lips
to her breast and let her familiar scent penetrate my senses and cash
out my memory banks. Taking her hand, I slipped on her finger the
ring I had always intended to put there. It sparkled in the semi-
darkness.
“This is the ring I was supposed to give you six months ago.”
“You’re kidding. I don’t understand. How did you get it back?”
“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you everything soon enough.” I took her
hand. “It looks lovely on you.”
“There’s only one thing that looks more lovely on me,” she said
“What’s that?”
“You.”
She pulled me on top of her. I wrapped my arms under hers and
pressed her heart close to mine.
“Charly?”
“Mmm?”
“I was just thinking about something you once said to me that I
never figured out.”
“What was that?”
“Remember our first kiss? Well, right before it happened, you
said you wanted to thank me for something I had taught you, but you
never said what it was and I never thought to ask. What did I teach
you?”
She giggled. Then, in my ear she whispered softly:
“That rapture can be found in the most unlikely of places.”
Charly and I talked for hours that night about everything that had
happened and everything that might happen. We talked about living
together. We talked about living. There were also many long
stretches where we didn’t talk at all, riding waves of joy to private
islands of redemption.
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