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A warm, golden glow settles heavily on my closed eyelids, tugging me gently into wakefullness. The sounds of the morning, still muffled from sleep, are a melody of chirping birds, the whirring of the refridgerator, and the soothing rhythem of Ellas breathing. I shift slightly, pressing my body against Ellas' smaller one, spooning her, and feeling her subconsiously melt into the touch, letting out a little sigh of content.
Her drowsy emotions wash over me, wrapping me in a tender blanket of affection and bliss. Im convinced the softest blanket in all the world. Our combined rhapsody weaves together inside if me, crocheting this blanket of peacefulness, so intertwined that I cannot tell which threads are mine and which are hers. I dont think it matters. Perfect. She is perfect.
Then, all to soon, our peaceful blanket of warm, half asleep paradise is disturbed as Ella stirrs, stretching out her arms and rolling over to face me. Her diamond eyes meet mine and when she smiles at me, the rush of emotion from both of us is so powerful, so intimate, I momentarily visit the stars she advertises in her eyes. When I return to my body, her delicate hand is resting on my cheek, thumb stroking slowly back and forth. Im not sure if she's quite aware of the effect this small action is having on me.
"Hi", she whispers. God, her eyes are gorgeus.
"Good morning, love."
"Happy birthday." Her smile brightens even more.
"Oh. Is that today? Thank you love. That's very thoughtful."
She wrinkles her nose. "All I did was say happy birthday."
"Yes. You did not need to."
She raises her eyebrows. Im having trouble concentrating on what she's saying when she keeps moving her face minutely into new, infinately beautiful patterns.
"Im your wife, Aaron!"
I smile, "I am well aware, love. You are the most important person in the world."
She gives out a slightly suprised giggle, "I dont think i've ever heard you be sarcastic before. Well, except to scold Kenji."
I frown, "What? I was not being sarcastic. You are the most important person in the world."
She stares at me for a second, then falls into another chorus of poorly suppressed giggles.
"Oh, im sorry!", she laughs breathlessly, "Its just the way you say things sometimes. Kenji uses the same tone when he's joking. I think I spend to much time with him."
"Sorry love. Does it upset you? I did not mean to sound like im joking, especially when I say I love you."
"No! No, I dont mind at all! I love you Aaron. You know that right?"
"Of course love. I can feel it. Im glad you find it amusing."
"You did it again. That tone, thats how Kenji sounds when hes being sarcastic."
"Im going to choose not to be offended by the comparison with Kishimoto."
She shoves me playfully, rolling her eyes, "I wish you and him could get along. I do love both of you -not in the same way of course", she adds, probably catching my anxious expression, "but i love him all the same. And call him Kenji. Kishimoto sounds so formal. Especially if you're friends. Which you are." She pokes me sternly in the chest and I laugh.
"If you wish, love."
She huffs out a breath, ticking the skin of my face. "I love you Aaron"
"I love you too."
And shes leaning in, her soft lips brushing against mine tentatively, before gainging confidence and deepening the kiss. I melt into her, letting her smell, her touch, her taste fill me up. I groan into her mouth, hands coming up to tangle in her silky hair, pulling her closer. She responds with a satisfied hum, tilting her head back as I trail kisses down her jaw. Her skin is so soft, im almost scared to touch her. I want to treat her at though she is made of porceline. Of course, It is an obsurd thought. She is the strongest thing in this world. But moments like these, when she lets her guard down completely in the early hours of sunlight, fill me with such protectiveness of this beautiful, perfect thing that is my wife. This delicate flower, so pure in such a cruel world. My love.
Suddenly, she pulls her forehead from mine, and sits up on her knees, reaching into her bedside drawer.
"I have something to give you," she announces, rustling through the drawers contents. I sit up, leaning against the headboard, flushed.
"You dont have to give me anything, love."
"I know i don't have to, but i did because i love you." She turns back around to sit cross- legged facing me and tentatively hands me an envelope and a pink- wrapped gift box with a red ribbon.
"I hope you like it. ", she says, "I wasent really sure what to get you. "
"I trust your judgement, love. " I say, the corners of my mouth twitching up at her flustered state. I carefully peel open the letter to find a small card with the words 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' on the front in gold, glittery letters, decorated with flowers and vines of a shiny gold material. I open it, and read the message inside. Its a lovely message. So lovely in fact, that by the end if it, I am suprised to find my eyes to be damp. I wipe them quickly.
"Thank you love. ", I say quietly, "It's beautiful. "
She laughs then, and it's the most glorious sound in the world. " "You're beautiful Aaron. I meant all of it."
"Thank you " I say again. She plants a kiss on my cheek and i can feel myself blushing.
"Aaron?"
"Yes, love?
"Open your present." Her cheeks are pink as the gift box as I delicately untie the ribbon.
As I am about to take off the lid, I am rudely interrupted by a big wet nose shoving itself into my neck. I turn around and address the Dog sternly.
"I have told you many times, one of the many conditions of sleeping in the bedroom was that you don't come on our bed." I tell him, "and if you wish to continue sleeping here, I suggest you listen. "
He stares at me, seeming to think very hard about what I have said.
"Aww, he just wants to say happy birthday. Come on, over here Snoopy." Ella coos.
Snoopy is the third name this poor dog has been stuck with, although he doesn't seem to care. First, he was Dog, because I didn't see sense in naming an animal I had recently found, literally roaming the streets. Then Kishimoto took to calling him Snoop Dogg, after a musical artist his father enjoyed. This eventually morphed into Snoopy, and after nearly a year, it had stuck. I will never understand Ellas' attraction to the dirty mutt, but if it makes her happy, that's all that matters. And even I have to admit, it has a very persuasive face.
The dog has a very smug look on his face as he curls up on my wife's lap. I don't appreciate it.
I remove the lid of the gift box, and peer inside. It is lines with what i recognise to be cassette tapes. Little music playing devices used in the 1980s. A considerable amount of them. Curious, I pull the first one out and read the label.
'Highway 61 Revisited' by Bob Dylan. The first song is 'Like A Rolling Stone', the one I played for Ella when she was staying at Sector 45. Another tape reads 'Go Farther in Lightness' by Gang if Youths, and another is a mix of artists, including 'Call Me Maybe' by Carly Rae Jepsen.
"That one was Kenjis'idea," Ella says, catching what I'm looking at, "the rest I picked out for you. I think you'll like them."
The box also contains a box of TimTam biscuits, and a walkman. I smile to myself.
My love has taken the time to pick out a playlist for me. That I can listen to, and think of her. I can feel anxiety bubbling out of her, so I lean over and press my lips into hers.
"Thank you, Ella," I whisper when we break apart, "I love it. Truly. "
She smiles.
"I thought it would be relaxing," She says, "Something you can listen to to unwind. You always talked about music like you were a textbook. I think if you found some you actually enjoyed, it could be, like, therapeutic. "
I smile again, and she presses kissed to my dimples. I laugh, and she laughs. She is happy, and therefore so am I.
~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~
Later that day, when the sun had long since sunk below the horizon, giving way to the serene, full moon, I sit on our red sofa with Ella curled up, leaning against my side. Kishimoto sits, sprawled out, on the other side of the couch, the space between him and Ella littered with junk food. Winston lounges on the other couch, with Brendan, his boyfriend, asleep in his lap. Nazeera sits cross-legged on the floor, braiding James' recently grown out hair, Lily is perched on the arm of the sofa above her, leaning her elbows on Nazeeras shoulders, and Adam, Alia, and Snoopy are all lying on the pile of pillows and blankets next to my feet. The telivision is playing the DVD of 'Tangled' that Kishimoto gifted me, along with 'Men in Black', and 'Rush Hour', both one and two. I run my fingers through Ellas hair, feeling tiny flecks of sand leftover from a day at the beach. I sigh in content, resting my cheek on top of her head, trying not to fall asleep as the princess sings some love song about floating lanterns.