Fireflies in Fairfax County
written by: Ellie Ness
@EleanorNess
With lamentable timing, I met Joe just before he completed his studies at Edinburgh and moved back to the D.C. area. It was lust at first sight. He was captivating and charm personified and it was harder to say goodbye than expected at the end of that first summer – a coup de foudre.
Phone calls and letters kept things going for a while as, this was the eighties and an analogue long-distance romance was the only option. After a few short holidays to visit him in his apartment in Arlington we both agreed it would be a good idea for me to spend the summer with him just after he relocated to a fixer-upper in Fairfax County which had a huge dilapidated backyard.
We segued into the easy domesticity of chores, painting over drywall and canvases and it started to feel a bit like home. It wasn’t quite the picket-fenced American dream but it had, as the realtor had said, unrealised opportunity.
Joe accepted that I didn’t see myself moving to America long term as it seemed preposterous to imagine leaving everyone else I knew for just one person, no matter how dazzlingly brilliant.
The golden hour in that part of America was very different to Scotland. There was a humid sultriness late into the evening and, lulled by the crickets we often sat on a blanket in the too-long grass nursing a cool drink as the sky darkened revealing constellations above or seas of city light gridlock undulating in waves of red and white in the distance.
Fireflies were an unknown quantity to me so they seemed wondrously magical the first time I saw them en masse. “Look Julie. That firefly is making J shapes for you.” Spellbound by the flashing swoosh upwards in an unmistakable J pattern in unremitting repetition I was momentarily mesmerised. “J for Jules,” he murmured into my all too eager ear.
“And Joe,” I answered as we leaned into each other kissing long and slow, suddenly oblivious to firefly incandescence and the cricket orchestra manoeuvring around us in the dark. His scent overrode all other senses, and sense. He leaned in towards me nibbling my mouth, my neck and I flushed. Tumescent in response, open mouthed…liquid…molten.
When we came up for air I saw a firefly lantern turned towards us, heart-shaped. I was enthralled, what could be more of a sign and portent than red J calls in the air and heart-shaped Big Dipper firefly beacons beckoning the come-hither in response.
He had primed and picked his moment well. “Marry me Jules.” And, by the fizzy feeling of fireflies looping Js in my stomach, I knew my answer was going to be yes, all caution obliterated.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Ellie Ness lived, at one point, in Fairfax County. She found fireflies fascinating.
- Fear of the Known - November 22, 2024
- Yarns - August 12, 2024
- Death - June 6, 2024
