Journal Series: 240629

Their first “I love you” was exchanged in the shower one afternoon in February. They only had time together during free periods in school. This meant ripping away the first layer of mystery that keeps the early days of dating fresh. It happened out of nowhere – the first shower, that is – anyway. The ... Journal Series: 240629

Their first “I love you” was exchanged in the shower one afternoon in February. They only had time together during free periods in school. This meant ripping away the first layer of mystery that keeps the early days of dating fresh.

It happened out of nowhere – the first shower, that is – anyway. The “I love you” would come several weeks later after mounting tension dissolved eighteen hours later.

But the first shower was easy. They fell into step with each other during a conversation in the converted bathroom on the second story of the old house. The water turned on; shirts off first, then pants.

The pause.

She usually paused in these moments. As an obligatory point of self-reflection.

Standing in her underwear talking to him about something so ordinary, never mind what it actually was. Her grandmother’s coconut cake, her favorite episode of Friends, and the Trinity Test are all possibilities in retrospect.

It was like breathing; talking to him.

And so, under-things were tossed into the corner, along with inhibitions.

That’s what made the “I love you” easy. He technically said it first. In front of his building as he hugged her goodbye. He said it lightly. As if to test the waters. If he’d guessed wrong, maybe she wouldn’t take him seriously and wave it away, covering the awkwardness and giving him an out.

She let it linger and kissed his nose. It wasn’t a question, but a hope. She answered with a “You, too!” which bordered on falsely bright, before ducking into her car and speeding home.

The following afternoon, they danced around it. Until finally, under the spray of the ancient shower head, he leaned in close to her ear and said it with the gravity of conviction he’d been carrying around for days. The concrete certainty that it had to come out.

The words floated between them in the microcosm of the shower niche. There was nobody around to hear; the only risk was a soft echo that would be carried on the steam to evaporate into the ceiling.

So, she said it back.