The peach juice dripped slowly down my chin and I felt the wind get knocked out of me by something invisible.   “Why don’t you like peaches?” I asked, taking another bite. David shrugged. “I used to,” he replied mysteriously. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for an explanation, but none came. He caught my questioning look. “You do not need to worry about it.” He stood up from the stool and tucked my wild hair back behind my ear. Absentmindedly I wondered why he smelled like them, but decided not to bother. There were many things I didn’t understand about David, but when I looked right at him I could tell he loved me.   I caught my breath and sank farther down against the tree. David, his eyes wide, ran over to me and reached out as if he intended to grasp my shoulders, but stopped himself before he did. His arms fell awkwardly to his sides. “Are you all right, Marie?” he asked. I nodded, avoiding his eyes because now, every time I looked at him, my face turned to the color of a tomato. Instead I became very interested in the half-eaten peach that had fallen out of my hand. I felt David’s eyes follow my gaze. “Do you want me to get you another one,” he asked/stated. “Yes, please,” I muttered, and when he turned around I watched his back go to the other tree. He was a lot taller than I thought he was. He was able to reach the best peach, towards the very top. When he turned around and walked briskly back to me, I accidentally caught his eye. Right away I saw the question there, and I knew I would have to tell him what I remembered. He handed me the peach. His finger touched mine for the briefest of seconds and it was warm where it had been. I flushed again and saw that he was too and I quietly bit into the peach. “Thanks.” “You are welcome.” “…..” “……” This seemed to always make up the majority of our conversations—awkward silence. “David, did I talk to you when we were….you know, together?” I asked. From the way he raised his eyebrows I could see that he was surprised by the question. I still avoided looking directly at him. “Yes, I suppose,” he replied slowly. “……” “…..” “David, I remembered something,” I said. His eyes glinted with hopefulness. I took a deep breath. “Why don’t you like peaches?” his brow furrowed momentarily, then relaxed a little. “That is what you remembered,” he asked/stated. “Yes,” I replied. He sighed through his nose. “That is something I never told you,” he said. “Can you tell me now?” I asked. He shook his head, his black eyes full of pain. “No, I can’t,” he said. I nodded. “I know. It’s all right.” There were many things I didn’t understand about David, but when I looked right at him I could tell he loved me.  I looked straight into his eyes, to see if I still saw it, still recognized the love I had seen before. I think I did.