The Nethertime

Nocturnal wanderings on the beach lead to a transcendent experience neither Starsky nor Hutch will ever forget.

“Come here,” the voice whispered, as the speaker extended a hand.

The blond hadn’t been asleep anyway. Alert at the slightest move his partner made, a solitary sojourn from bed to beach at 2:00 in the morning had certainly not escaped notice. Understanding the need for time alone, he hadn’t wished to intrude then; likewise, he would never be inclined to refuse the offer now being made and accepted the hand readily enough.

“What are we doing?”

“Shh. Just come.”

Urged out of bed and purposefully led out onto the sand, Hutch didn’t bother to grab even a robe: late August in California required no attire other than the canvas shorts both had fallen asleep in. Taller settled directly behind shorter as they sat in the place the latter had chosen, their bodies fitting easily against each other as though intended to join — an apt metaphor for what existed between them on a level so much deeper than the merely physical.

“What made –”

“Shh.” Starsky turned to face him, a strange look — anticipation? — brightening his eyes in the near-darkness. “Don’t say anything. Just be here.”

Whatever his partner was feeling now completely eluded Hutch, but it didn’t really matter. He was content to just sit and absorb all of the surrounding sights and smells as they revealed themselves in succession: the throbbing pulse of surf against shore as the tide ebbed; sandalwood and musk mingling with the natural essence of the man so near — an achingly familiar scent more precious than breath itself; sand bathed in a silver shimmer under the light of a waxing crescent moon; an impossibly clear sky illuminated by a galaxy of flickering lights; the bitter salt-tinge to the air as the breeze blew in off the water. He frowned. If Starsky became chilled– the thought of returning to the cottage to fetch a shirt was briefly considered, but quickly dismissed. This moment seemed somehow important to his partner and he certainly didn’t want to be the one to spoil the mood. Wrapping his arms more tightly around the man in front of him, Hutch decided that body warmth alone would suffice.

What had beckoned in the night surrounded the two, but only the darker one was aware of its presence. The encounter with death had made him easier to reach, he was a much better listener now. The blond, however, was too preoccupied to notice. Even in sleep, his mind was fully engaged on important matters, worries that drowned out a voice audible only in the quiet. So, the gift came to him in another way. It whispered in the breeze he had played with as a child, approaching almost shyly and ruffling his hair as it blew past one ear, down his neck and up again on the other side. Urging him to remember in the silence — to be still — it waited patiently to be invited in. It was not in its nature ever to force.

The light wind unaccountably sent chills up and down Hutch’s spine, the sensation tugging at him as if it wanted something in return. A vague memory from very, very long ago danced just out of reach on the edges of his mind and he paused trying to pull it up. Unwilling to come on demand, Hutch closed his eyes to see if it would present itself more willingly if left alone. Leaves. Autumn in Duluth, brightly colored foliage drifting down nearly within reach, then abruptly rushing away from the small fingers trying to catch them. A chase begun on tiny feet, a joy that had needed no analysis or understanding then, had been accepted fully just because it was. Where had that come from? He had been all of what? Three or four? So long past now, it belonged to another life.

Welcome now and unable to wait any longer, it came. Hutch opened his eyes and gasped at the unexpected rush of what followed. The stars, beach, waves — everything he had been logging so carefully moments ago ceased to be merely seen, became heightened and transformed before him in a startling clarity of vision. It was almost as if all that surrounded them was making its true nature visible and actually longed to be experienced, to be known. In this place, time did not exist, there was nothing but beauty and grace and a complete absence of conscious thought. Nothing was required of him now but to be; to accept the gift as it was being given. His ears registered the corresponding shuddering breath of the one he held so close, the fingers entwining tightly with his own telling him that this was not for one alone, but a gift given equally to both. The presence danced with delight between, around, and through the pair; the giver exulting as much in the giving as the two did in receiving.

The moment’s intensity waned, as it must, and the scene returned slowly back to what it had been before. Neither man moved immediately, their hearts pounding and breathing labored as if they had just run a marathon.

“How did you know?” Hutch whispered, his lips brushing the ear as he spoke.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

No answer was needed. They remained in the tight embrace, for the moment wanting nothing more.

Neither felt the presence as keenly now, but it was there. At home in each unless asked specifically to go, lover joined beloved in the stillness.

finis.

Chapter End Notes:

I received a letter from a reader asking me what precisely was in my mind when I wrote this piece, as it seems open to several equally reasonable interpretations. My response to her (as follows) elicited another note suggesting that I add my explanation to the story itself as a sort of “author’s point of view.” It is offered here in that spirit, with many thanks to Michelle for the suggestion.

When asked if this story was meant to convey a shift in their relationship with each other or, rather, a shared spiritual awakening, I would have to say that I envisioned more the latter than the former — though I like to think that the two could connect. I strongly believe that actual love and spirituality are indivisible; that love is the very essence of God and that He delights both in its expression and in surprising us with it every now and then. “The Nethertime” was a very personal attempt (met with only limited success, I’m afraid) to capture one of those rare transcendent moments that leave you with the unshakable knowledge you’ve encountered something beyond yourself. I think in the aftermath of that kind of experience — before your mind returns to the various distractions and necessities of daily life — there exists a sort of fundamental clarity of vision and a profound sense of serenity. If there were unspoken or unresolved feelings between two people, I expect that this would be a time when both would feel very much at ease to explore them.