nyla's notes: while I was writing this I was listening to Fastball's "You're An Ocean" imagining that's how Dean was feeling about Colette. Just complete wonderment in a person and the way that person makes you feel. Here are a few lines that I found particularly relevant. Listen to the song if you have a few minutes and see if you agree.
"Can you make it easier for me to understand,
How you're holding my heart, in your trembling hands...
Make the warm winds circle round my head just like you do,
If I could do it, I'd be doing it to you,
I believe I'd buy whatever you would sell to me,
Nothing in my life ever came with a guarantee."
DAY 3
They were walking through Central Park. She was curious about something he'd said the other day and it was getting the better of her.
"What do I need to understand about your parents?" she asked finally.
He gave her a startled look, caught off-guard by the question but not overly surprised she'd asked.
"I don't talk to them much," he admitted after a long pause. "Though I'm sure you figured that out already. I would, but…" He shrugged.
"The life you want is not the one your dad wanted for you?" she offered.
"Yeah," he said. Then he stopped and looked at her. "How do you do that?" he asked, searching her face intently, like he was trying to see into her. "You know things without anyone saying a word. I don't need to tell you anything."
They'd stopped under a tree, and as the wind blew a few autumn leaves fell down around them. The way her hair was blowing reminded him of her on the runway in Haiti, her hair whipping around in the wind, and how one conversation with her could change everything. He'd seen it happen countless time, and not just with him.
"You can tell me anything," she said sincerely.
Looking at her Dean knew she meant it. And he wanted to tell her everything, especially when she looked at him with those eyes. He was caught up in her spell and he knew it. But considering his recent relationship disasters, he didn't dare tell her that, or that somehow over the past few months she'd gotten into his head and tied herself up in his heart in a way that he couldn't accurately verbalize. All he knew is that he couldn't imagine his life without her, and he was just waiting for her to let him know she felt the same way.
"I don't know everything," she said, because he was staring at her and not saying anything in response to her invitation and it was starting to make her a little uncomfortable. "You're not exactly as open as a book."
His face broke into a grin then because he loved when her French showed. "It's 'an open book,'" he told her, gently brushing the side of her face. "And for the record, neither are you."
"I answer your questions," she said, mockingly defensive, relieved to be back to their easy banter. "And lucky for you I do it in English." Then she proposed a truce and offered her hand. "I guess we both have some reading ahead of us…"
"I guess we do," he said and he kissed her hand in agreement before they continued walking. "About my parents…"
And he found himself telling her about growing up on the farm. About how he knew from the first time his dad took him up in the crop duster that his life had changed forever; how from that moment on all he wanted to do was fly. He told her how he felt like he'd disappointed his parents by leaving the family farm, but that he couldn't imagine doing anything differently. And so he and his family were at a stalemate of sorts. He told her things that he'd never told anybody else, and it was okay. There was more to know, and more to say, but it would come.