It was the first day of that year that Cloud felt summer in the air. One of those days that make you feel like something in the atmosphere has shifted, without much commotion, to declare that it has now moved to a new season. The skies were blue and cloudless and the sun was shining relentlessly bright wherever he rode. The kids rejoiced at the arrival of summer, but by the end of daylight the heat and sunshine seemed to wear them out, making them succumb to the lull of sleepiness earlier than their usual bed time.
The heat from the day lingered into the night, so much so that they needed to turn the air conditioning on for the first time this season. The cooling effect of the low temperature shower had long lost its power. Knowing it wasn't helping much, Cloud was pinching the neckline of his shirt with his fingers and waving it lightly to send some air when Tifa came into the bedroom.

"Want some?" she said, signaling two beer bottles in her hand, caps removed, and closed the door behind her with the other hand.
Cloud received one from her and thanked her, while she seated herself next to him on the bed. And as if on cue, the two of them took a sip from the bottles.
"Tastes even better when it's hot like this, doesn't it?" she said.
"True," he replied.
When he was finishing up his second sip, rather unexpectedly, the feel of the glass bottle on his lips reminded him of something.
"When we were kids," he said and paused. She titled her head, waiting for him to continue.
"You used to use a straw when you drank out of a bottle like this, didn't you?"
Tifa paused, her eyes looking up at the ceiling, trying to fish out an image out of her memory.
"Right. My dad would tell me to use a straw and be 'ladylike,'" she said and air-quoted the last word.
Usually when they drink together, typically at night winding down after a day of work, it is in the bar downstairs and depending on what they drink they use glasses, but even so when they have beer they drink straight out of bottles.
"Back in those day, whatever I did, the first thing that would come out of his mouth was 'come on Tif, act like a lady,'" she rolled her eyes and chuckled, and added "you know, parents."
As far as he was concerned, he rather found those gestures of hers unassuming and welcome, even.
"And then one time I told him I didn't ask to be born a girl, and he shut up, which made me feel a bit sorry for him."
She smiled, which made him smile too.
"You know, when I told him that I was gonna take up martial arts, he didn't like the idea. But I persevered saying having a means to defend myself would come in handy one of these days. Then he caved, begrudgingly that is."
Toward the tail end of the sentence the tone of her voice as well as the expression on her profile cast a hint of nostalgia and sorrow. He didn't need to ask her why. Then she moved on and smiled a little, had another sip of beer, so he decided to mirror her gesture.
Perhaps against her father's intentions, Cloud thought, the elegance and poise Tifa carries in her demeanor, which could be found in even the smallest and the most mundane actions in every day life, he is sure that they could trace their roots back to her expertise in martial arts.
"I'm surprised that you remember such a small thing though, me drinking with a straw," she said as she removed her lips from the bottle after another sip.
"Yeah," he managed to say, caught a little off guard.
When was that, Cloud wondered. Then a fragment of memory struck him. He was sixteen. It was a summer morning as hot as this evening. The day after he arrived in the village for the first time after he had left it two years ago.

＊

He woke up cursing at the heat. He frowned at the rays of light shining through the curtains as he cast his arm to shield his eyes. He sensed beads of sweat running down his neck, which did't make him feel any better, if not worse. He kicked the sheets away to the foot of the bed, knowing it wouldn't help make the situation any better either. He sighed.
He got out of bed thinking as a last resort opening the window would make things a little better. He walked up to the window and drew the curtains halfway and paused.
The window was facing the side of Tifa's house next door, which had a door leading to their kitchen, with a few steps connecting the door to the yard. The sprinklers in the Lockharts' front and back yards were set to run at six thirty every morning. He had known it from when he used to live in the village, and he estimated what time it was from that knowledge. He assumed that the lawn had just freshly been mowed, from the poignant, almost annoyingly fresh green smell.

Tifa walked in from the front of the house, then sat down on the steps in front of the door. She appeared in a loosely fit summer dress, its hem bouncing as she moved and hovering over her kneecaps, barely covering them when she stood, and revealing them when she sat. The dress was white with prints of large orange flowers whose name he didn't know, with bright green leaves attached to them. Her hair was smooth but probably uncombed, which he did't care, not even for a second.
She had what appeared to be newspaper in her right hand and a green soda bottle in the other. The bottle had a straw in it. He couldn't read the label but guessed it was one of those famous brands out there.
Few homes in Nibelheim had air conditioning as it did not get too hot in the summer in the mountain village. They were having an unprecedentedly hot summer that year, his mother told him the previous night. He thought Tifa might have woken up early from the heat and decided to come outside to get some fresh air.
Sitting on the steps she tossed away the sandals she was wearing with a casual move, which landed on the lawn. Then she took a sip of the soda, flipped the paper, and started reading the front page.
Her eyes moved like the sprinklers did, and her figure was blurry behind the sheen of mist, making him forget about his surroundings.
She placed the bottle next to her, then fanned out the newspaper before her face. The red and white straw twirled. Then she stretched her legs and crossed them at the ankles. She periodically tapped the foot that was over the other, as if she was drumming to some imaginary tune. And every time she did that gesture, dots of sunlight danced on her feet, shifting shades from light to dark grey.

The sun was bright as if the only reason it was shining so brightly was to shed those warm dazzling lights on her and on her only. He had long forgotten to look at the sky, but looking at her was enough to tell him that the sky above was cloudless and blue like heaven.
Then a breeze blew from out of nowhere, waving her hair like a banner high up in the sky.
Her eyes were moving up and down, as if trying to find an article that would spark her interest. He wondered when she developed the habit of reading newspapers. During the last two years they were apart, he could tell she had grown up so fast, in this small mountain village that had nothing to offer to the world. That made him feel a tinge of emptiness and embarrassment because he wondered, what had he expected to change once he left this boring place for Midgar? It stuck him hard that the time flew at the same speed for both of them.
Her limbs were long like stalks of flowers languorously absorbing all the nourishment the summer sun had to offer. She brushed off a strand of hair from her face with a slightly annoyed look on her face. Then she took another sip from the straw, and he couldn't take his eyes off as the bubbly drink run down her throat, shadows cast around her collar bones, and her skin beneath the dress.

She lowered the bottle and the paper, cast her hand over her eyes and squinted. A grey shadow was cast on her beautiful face, then she looked up.
He sprinted away from the window and went straight back to bed, feeling his heart beating and knowing they could ever fall back asleep. Even through the sheets the light from the sun coming in from the open curtains dazzled his eyes.

＊

"Cloud," Tifa called and snapped him out of his daydream.
"Sorry. I was remembering."
He wondered if he should tell her about what he had just been remembering, which made it feel a little funny so he gave the bottle another sip to busy himself. Then he thought how funny it was that they were sitting like this, having been through everything they have been through together and now living a life together.
"You're not gonna tell me, are you?"
Tifa furrowed her brows perhaps in protest, which reminded him of the face of the girl that he was watching that day from the bubble of his bedroom. She was defenseless, nonchalant, yet vibrant and full of life.
What happened in that beautiful summer after that morning, he decided he shouldn't dwell on that. Because even in the ominous shadows of those nightmares, whenever he thinks of the place they grew up in, what comes to mind first is the girl in that summer dress, who would grow up to be the woman next to him and his younger self who was watching her from afar. He has gained so many precious memories as he grew, but always at the center of his being resides the girl he knew from childhood.
"Maybe one day."
He put the half-empty beer bottle onto the floor. In the corner of his eye he saw her watching him, trying to press on, but before she could say anything else he kissed her to shut her up.
He has never told her how it makes him feel every time she becomes pliant in his arms. Maybe one day he may tell her that too, maybe not. Rather counterintuitively, this feeling is not far from how he used to feel way back when. As he pressed his lips against hers harder, they parted as if in surrender, then he felt her hand cling tightly on his shirt.
And in her embrace, he finds everything he's ever lost, and everything he has yet to find. That balmy summer morning, melancholy, longing, young lust. With their bodies intertwined, it creates a cocoon, encapsulating past, present, future, everything. She has lost the roundness of a teenage girl along her face line that she used to have. He wondered when that happened, maybe when they reunited in Midgar or later, but he decided it didn't matter.
"As far as I'm concerned, I'm glad you were born a girl."
Her cheeks blushed, and he knew it was not from the shower, or the drink, or the summer heat. He took from her hands the bottle that was covered with pearls of sweat and placed it on the floor next to his. He reached out his arm to turn out the lights and kissed her neck that exuded that lingering scent of that distant summer.