Page 139 of Lovebug
Then he says, “Best. Birthday. Ever,” and my stomach immediately bottoms out.
“Birthday? IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY?!” I prop myself up and practically squeal. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought I did,” he says gently. I can tell he’s trying not to make me feel bad. But it’s too late for that.
A foggy remembrance of him saying he had a birthday “next Saturday” comes to my mind, and I feel… terrible.
“I’m so sorry!” I wince. “Ohmygod, youdidmention it. I just—It’s been such a crazy time and—oh man, I have no excuse, I’m just plain sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he soothes. “I was serious. Best. Birthday. Ever. I’m here with my girl, out in nature, waiting for fireworks. What could be better?”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” He gives my hip a squeeze, a gentle request for me to drop it.
So I do.
We lie there in comfortable silence.
Until I whisper, “Can I tell you one more thing about the dung ball?”
“About how many times do you anticipate saying dung ball tonight? You know, just out of curiosity.”
“As many times as it takes,” I say seriously.
“Atta girl.” He smiles. “Go on. Tell me.”
“ThefemaleScarab beetle—get ready to have your mind blown—she lays a single egg inside a specially sculpted dung ball, then hides it in an underground chamber until her larvae are ready to hatch, at which point they will immediately feed off the dung surrounding them so they can grow.”
“Wow,” he says, completely serious.
“Amazing, Right?”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “You know, in that regard, we humans aren’t all that different from larvae then. Oftentimes, it’s the dung surrounding us that makes us grow.”
I squeeze him tighter. “You, sir, are a miracle.”
“A miracle, huh?” He caresses my cheek with his thumb.
“Yes.” I laugh. “Any man who can deliver life advice wrapped in bug metaphors with full sincerity and no trace of sarcasmis a miracle. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The sound of fireworks overhead has us both looking up.
“Finally,” I breathe and snuggle closer to him.
“And will you look at that.” His voice sounds so light and carefree when he says it. “Fireflies.”
“There they are,” I say, awe lacing my words. It’s never gone away, the wonder and joy that washes over me the first time the fireflies come out. I hope it never does.
“Sometimes, we have to wait a bit till the good stuff shows up in life, yeah?” He gives me a little wink. “Maybe the fireflies were waiting to accompany the fireworks so they could really put on a show for us tonight.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“So I guess, youcouldsay the fireflies are right on time this year,” he whispers in my ear.
“Yeah, you could,” I whisper back, then turn my head toward him and smile. “Right on time.”
