He was wearing a thin blue-grey plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves and dark jeans, brown boots. When he showed up, he wasn't wearing his work clothes. He apologized for not being able to make it sooner, but he was traveling, working. A year, maybe.Ībe Forrest came to my house at dusk, two weeks later. I pictured him gently lifting me from my bed, tagging my ear, tracking me all month. I heard his voice in my head saying it, and this too: Look at how small and beautiful she is. Well you certainly are easy on the eyes, he said. It wasn't as quick as the others, but it came.
Crepuscular life tv#
It was time for bed so I turned the TV off and waited for his reply. Halcyons were a kind of bird, and his new bird episode was coming on the next week. He lived on a street called Halcyon and it felt like a sign. I kissed it and left a sticky-cherry lipstick mark. I drew a little heart next to Abraham and a little tree next to Forrest. I’d even written down his address on a torn piece of paper and slipped it into my wallet where I kept the cash. Maybe it would remind him of a fun summer he’d had on a boat once or a happy, sexy beer commercial or something.Īnd I had. I wanted him to think I was pretty, but, even if he didn't, he'd still probably like the picture. It was taken last summer and I wanted Abe to know what I looked like, that I wasn't a dude or a kid. I was on my brother's boat, drinking a Corona with lime because that's all he had. I attached my favorite picture of me to the email, the picture where I'm wearing a white triangle bikini and sunglasses and my hair all wild and wavy with weather. And I wished his voice and those words were crackers so I could eat them. He bent down and said hey there girl, in his scratchy, sleepy morning voice. Once he was tagging a tiny fawn and he said look at how small and beautiful she is. How wide-eyed he got when he stumbled upon something unexpected. His brown cargo pants, how careful he was around the sleeping baby animals. I loved his compass, his Leatherman, his Swiss Army Knife, his headlamp and folding saw.
He was on one knee saying the word hybrid when my phone buzzed with his email reply.Ībe was talking and talking, his voice coming from my television as I typed out: We should be crepuscular together sometime. This way we'll be able to track its growth, he said-quietly, as if he didn't want to wake a sleeping baby. I watched his arms, his hands as he lifted the tranquilized coywolf pup, as he gently tagged its ear and placed it back into the little dirt hole he'd pulled it out of. I loved his short fingernails, each with their own little pale crescent moon. He was wearing the army green pocket T-shirt he always wore, the same chunky black watch. I sat there on my bed in my long sleeve Forrest Ranger shirt and flowery underwear, watching him. He was discussing coywolves and he used words like coyote and bones and feast and young. Made it holy.Īnd two more words in the follow-up email: I am. Thanks so much for your question and for watching. I talked about it in more detail in another episode, but simply put, crepuscular refers to an animal that is active primarily at dusk/twilight and dawn/early morning–an animal that is most active on the edges, when the day pages are just turning. I got the email when I was at work so I left my desk and went to the bathroom to read it on my phone. Frisson sparked my shoulders and warmed my cheeks, the top of my head.
I don't know what crepuscular means and I don't want to look it up. I got his email address from the website and sent him a something and practically nothing email.Ībe. He looked at me through my television and said words like crepuscular and wilderness and predator. He tagged and tracked animals like deer and coywolves. I dreamt of morning mimosas with Abe Forrest, lunch with Abe Forrest, dinner with Abe Forrest, bed and life with Abe Forrest. I was enraptured by everything he did-how he moved, his white work truck, his hands touching things. I watched it every night before bed and I loved him. My daydream life revolved around Abe Forrest, wildlife biologist and host of my favorite nature documentary show, Forrest Ranger. My real life was coffee, traffic, work, dinner, drinks, TV, sleep. The curtain separating my real life from my daydream life was as thin as Bible paper, almost like I could hear the shh-crinkle when I pulled it back.
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