Page 60 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

He laughed. So, I gently lowered myself to Davud’s lap, making it easier for him to reach.

“How about now?” I asked.

Davud didn’t respond. Instead, he moved his mouth to mine and his hand found the back of my head. After several moments, our lips separated, and we were once again staring into each other’s eyes. I wasn’t done practicing, though. My lips found his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his forehead, then his lips again. Davud shut his eyes and sighed as I kissed him gently all over his face.

“You know,” I said, “you could’ve been a better animal.”

“What?” He chuckled as his eyes opened lazily and a contented sigh escaped his mouth.

“You could’ve given clearer signals. Written better letters, I guess?”

“It’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention,” he gave me another quick kiss on the lips.

“I’m just saying,” I ran my fingers through his hair, “some animals aren’t that bright. Like, did you know that sometimes turkeys will drown because they like drinking dripping water, so in rainstorms they’ll stare up at the sky and just…drink until they die?”

“That’s not true.” He laughed.

“Pretty sure I read it somewhere.”

“Well, then you’re definitely a turkey,” he said, wrapping his arms around my middle.

“I’m okay with it,” I kissed him again. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“How the hell would I know?” He teased.

“Well, I know you can’t feel your legs, but I’m not crushing your nuts or anything am I?” I asked.

He laughed loudly, his cheeks turning bright red. “They’re fine. Jeesh. More than fine, if you must know.”

Again, we were kissing. Music from the auditorium drifted out to us. It was muffled, but I could make out that it was Rory singing Being Alive. I shifted in Davud’s lap, making sure my weight was distributed well. His arms latched onto me, as though afraid I was going to stand up. That made something in my gut flutter.

“So?” I asked, my arms wrapping around his neck. “Wanna take us back inside? We can watch the rest of the recital.”

Davud glanced at the doors, chewing at his lip.

“Oh,” I said, realizing what I’d suggested, “yeah. That’s a big step. I can just walk inside next to you. You don’t have to—”

I started to stand, but Davud’s grip on me tightened.

“Screw that,” he said. “I want everyone to see you on my lap. You’re my little skillet.”

I laughed.

“I just…I thought maybe it would be more fun to, I don’t know, go to your car. Practice some more?”

I grinned at him.

“I don’t even like musicals that much,” I said.

“Liar.”

“Well, I don’t like them as much as practicing with you,” I said. “So, I’m not lying.”

“You know, I’ve never been happier with semantics.”

“Then get your wheels moving,” I said. “We only have six more songs to practice.”

“Oh, crap!” Davud gasped comically as he reached for his wheels. “We have to hurry!”

I laughed loudly as Davud wheeled us across the parking lot to my car. Going out to my car to make out instead of sitting with our friends and watching the recital I helped organize might have been rude, but I simply couldn’t find it in me to care too much. Organizing the recital had taken weeks. Finding the right guy to practice with had taken my whole life. It was more important.

When we got to my car, we didn’t even fold up Davud’s wheelchair and put it in the trunk. We left it by the front bumper. We’d have to go inside when the recital was almost over anyway, so there was no point. The two of us sat in the backseat, our hands in each other’s hair as our lips explored each other’s. Though I only wanted to focus on Davud, my mind wandered a bit.

I’d known Davud since junior high, but we didn’t become that close until freshman year of high school. I tried thinking of the exact moment that he started to try and show me what I meant to him. I knew that I’d been doing the same to him, even if I hadn’t known it right away. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment either of us started, but it didn’t matter.

At least we had both started at some point. That was the important thing.

How long we’d been two animals sending letters to each other was beyond me, but at least we both finally opened our eyes and read them.

If that’s all we are—human beings—is animals sending love letters, hoping someone will read them, we’re all probably turkeys. None of us are all that bright. But a smart animal isn’t needed. Just the right one.

Davud had always felt right. Even if I took the long way around, at least I’d finally realized it.