Frogs and Watermelon

Ardoise had always been adverse to the nuisances that came in the summers, more often finding himself becoming nocturnal or otherwise staying underground in the mountains to avoid the heat and bugs.

The summer heat was oppressive and the bugs were constantly buzzing in his ear and biting any available inch of skin not covered by clothing. No amount of bug spray or magic could ever seem to keep them away.

He’d decided that he could never love the summer. He could never love the heat, or the bright sun, or the bugs or the loud calls of birds that shrilled loudly in his ear. There was always something that made him uncomfortable.

But that all changed years later.

With a woman he loved seated in front of him. She gazed at him with a playful curiosity, a bright smile on her face as she swirled a wine glass full of juice. “Ardoise, mon amour… Remind me, which season is your favourite?”

The unicorn went still for a while in thought, his eyes fixed on the pitcher of watermelon juice between them. Watching as the ice and whole melon cubes reflected the shining sun and made the colour pop in the most refreshing way.

It reminded him of lips stained with pink juice from a watermelon they had shared years past. The Lilac scent that would surround her when they picked flowers to freshen their home.

His silence was broken as more memories flooded back to him, a soft hum escaped as a smile bloomed.

It reminded him of the tender caresses of her hands and the soothing sensation of her breathing. How her body felt warm and comfortable against his as they lay on a blanket in the evening grass. Watching the sun dip below the horizon and the stars appear from the once bright sky. As the flickering lights of fireflies danced around them.

“Summer.” He responded, taking a sip of his own glass. “I think I could live my whole life in the summer.”

Interrupting his moment of reflection, his ears and eyes flickered to the side as he heard a child’s excited shriek, a huge splash, and the pitter patter of tiny hooves trampling dirt and grass racing closer. Watching as a little girl ran with excitement to the two, holding an unseen trophy close to her chest.

The girl was a spitting image of her parents. Arouse’s grey skin and hair. Her mother’s bright golden eyes shone like amber in the sun. She also shared her mother’s warm smile that was nothing but infectious. The girl sported a nubby baby horn in the center of her forehead, a bittersweet reminder that she took after him in more than just appearance.

She had been off playing in the nearby creek. Her sundress soaked in water, not that she ever seemed to mind getting dirty, wet or hurt.

Ardoise turned in his seat to catch her as she came running. Pulling her up onto his knee as she looked up at him excitedly, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his pant leg soaking with water.

“I caught one!” she cried, legs kicking excitedly. “I had to chase it a little but I caught one!”

“And what exactly did you catch?” He questioned with a smile, bouncing his knee a little as he did. His daughter was always drawn to the creek creatures. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d have to come to the rescue when she’d get her fingers too close to a crawfish. Or tell her that she couldn’t bring a duck home on the occasion she had managed to pluck it from the water.

She wiggled a little on his knee in excitement before carefully opening up her hand to show him her prize.

It was a frog.

It was always a frog.

He let out a chuckle and his hand came down to ruffle her hair, “Well would you look at that. That is one big frog you caught Bug.”

His wife chuckled as she stood and walked around the table to see. Getting down on her knees so she could better see the amphibian in her daughter's hands. Her hand settled on Ardoise’s knee as she made herself comfortable on the ground. “It is a very big frog! What a wonderful frog to catch.”

“And a fast one! I had to jump into the water to catch it!”

“Is that what that splash was?” Ardoise questioned as he wrapped an arm around her and wiggled her around playfully. “You’ve gotta be more careful, what would happen if you scraped your knee or bumped your head?"

The girl giggled and wiggled free from Ardoise’s grasp and returned to the ground as she jumped a little in excitement. “You would've kissed it all better papa! But I'll be carefuller next time!"

His wife hummed as she leaned up against his leg. “Why don’t you make sure Mrs. Frog makes it home to her family safely? I’m sure they’re just worried sick about her.” She suggested, her other hand coming up to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind their daughter’s ear.

'Bug' looked sad for a moment at the thought of returning her new friend to the creek, but it was short lived as she nodded oncel and began her walk back to the creek with an empowered gusto.

Ardoise looked down to his wife as she leaned against him. It filled him with warmth to see his family enjoying everything the world had to offer.

He loved the summer.

Loved. That was the key word.

Now it was only a painful reminder as the light and heat shone down onto the layers of black clothing he guarded himself with.

Instead of standing at the stones of his garden wall, he now stood at stones that once held names.

What had his wife thought when he didn’t return that night, or the night after. When weeks and months turning into years. Did she hold onto the hope that he’d return? Did she find someone else? And what of their daughter? Did they ever return to that meadow creek without him?

His fists balled as he looked down at where they found rest. Tears welling in his eyes as he kneeled. The names had long since worn off the stones, but he knew who was there better than anyone else ever could.

Setting a bundle of freshly picked lilacs down on one grave, he waited a moment as he stared into the colours before the weight in his pocket began to burn.

He wanted to do anything except put his hand in that pocket. It weighed like a stone in his heart. But he reached in anyway. Watching as the rich amber he niw held shone in the sun. Just like her eyes had.

The amber frog stared back at him. He had spent months carefully carving and polishing it meticulously by hand.

He went from kneeling to sitting as he held and turned the carving in his hand, staring down at it as memories of the creek and her laughter filled his ears. It burned just sitting in his hands.

After what felt like an eternity, he let out a broken sigh. Hesitantly, but gently setting the amber frog among the rest that covered her grave. It was hard to find space among the stone amphibians as the years passed.

It had become a tradition of sorts for him to carve frogs for her every year. Out of new and fun stones he came across. He wished desperately that she could see them. Knowing she’d be overjoyed at the little army of frogs he was slowly building for her year after year.

He hated the summer.

The summer heat was oppressive and the bugs were constantly buzzing in his ear and biting any available inch of skin not covered by clothing. No amount of bug spray or magic could ever keep them away.

He’d decided that he could never love the summer. He could never love the heat, or the bright sun, or the bugs or the loud calls of birds that shrilled loudly in his ear.

He'd stay deep inside the mountains. Stay away from the running water of creeks. Away from the flowers. And away from the world that had taken everything from him.