“Some people would just say last week, but that will do.” I’m doing my best not pulling him by the collar and kissing him. “Thank you for this,” I nudge his shoulder with mine.
“Of course,” he nudges back.
The train moves through fields of grass. Sharp mountains in the background fling past us. They stop fifteen minutes in, announcing something in Swiss German and French.
I can see water from my window. A couple of mountains.
People stand, going to the other side to see out.
I turn my head to see what they’re looking at.
It takes a second for my vision to focus.
“Oh my god,” I’m on my feet. It comes out from the pits of my stomach. I’d spent years looking at the plant through a screen. No amount of time can tell you how much I dreamt of seeing its perfoliate leaves. It blends in with the grass, but the subtle tinge of lilac flutters my way. “I can’t believe it,” I say.
I push past people to get a closer look. They’re looking at the goats up here. I’m looking at the endangered plant.
“What is it?” Dean cocoons me from behind.
“Thlaspi perfoliatum,” I whisper it. “Umbel pennycress. They’re rare plants, only found on this side of the world. Sometimes in the Mediterranean too, I think. People never glance once at this plant, but it survives in harsh climate and dry areas like the mountains and will take care of surrounding plants. A mother plant if you will. I never thought I’d see one in real life.”
Dean runs a hand down my hair and listens for the next couple of minutes about the plant. I tell him about its versatility in the ecosystem and how they’re cousins with the cabbage and mustardfamily. He listens with intense eyes, letting me fangirl over it. When the announcer asks everyone to be seated, he tells me to continue talking about it as we take our seats, and the train moves again.
Not once does he yawn or tell me to shut up.
He listens and that silences all disruptive thought.
“What’s going on?”
After our whiplash of a conversation, we stop at Rotenboden. It’s full of people and after ten minutes of Dean’s grumbling complaints and refusal to take pictures, we take one blurry selfie with half his face cut off. The Matterhorn is a suggestion at this point.
We sit and talk on the field.
I learn that his favourite colour is shockingly yellow. I tell him mine isnot-shockinglypink. When he mentions he didn’t get the chance to go to university, I tell him it doesn’t bother me.
He works with his hands and is emotionally intelligent.
Which is rare for men these days.
We had just finished eating dinner at a small restaurant.
A crowd of people were all walking in one direction, excitement, thrill, and contagious laughter funnelled around us.
Dean moves to ask a man with a shawl around his shoulders, smoking a cigar and smiling rather in awe of the movement.
“Herr, warum gehen alle in diese Richtung??”
My nerves whisper to each other in mesmerising shock.He knows Swiss German?
“Es ist das allererste Laternenfest der Stadt. Dort gehen alle hin, du solltest deine Frau auch mitnehmen. Ich habe gehört, es wird historisch.” The man is smiling at me and all I can do is lower my head in acknowledgement. With his cigar-occupied hand, he wiggles his fingers.
Dean’s chuckle is low and throaty. “Sie ist noch nicht meine Frau, aber ich hoffe, dass sie es eines Tages sein wird.”
“Sie schaut dich an, wie ich mir Liebe vorstelle, bevor sie erkennt, was sie wirklich ist. Die Chancen stehen zu deinen Gunsten, junger Mann.”
I’m gettingFOMOright now.
I act like I’m not paying attention to them, but I really am.
