Fear of Falling

lightning bugs down in ATL.”
    “I didn’t grow up there,” I replied, shaking my head. Without even thinking, I was telling him the truth. I was letting him in. “I’m from California, where they’re called fireflies .”
    “Ah, makes sense. Ok, city mouse, time to show you how it’s done.”
    He slid out of the truck and came over to my side to help me out. Then he took my hand and led me out into the field. “Look,” he instructed, pointing out into the darkness. Dozens of tiny glowing insects swirled around us, creating a field of twinkle lights. I could hear the buzz from their wings, harmonizing with the sounds of crickets and distant night critters. The combination was oddly peaceful, and I let myself soak it all in.
    “When I was a boy, my mother used to bring me out here at night so we could catch lightning bugs. We’d place bets to see who could catch the most. I think she always let me win.”
    I could almost hear the smile in his voice, and his accent suddenly sounded thicker. Rich with emotion. He was that little boy again, catching fireflies with his mom.
    “She told me that you would always find the most lightning bugs when a summer storm was approaching. They were like a warning, illuminating the sky before the real lightning struck. They were nature’s omen. The change in the atmosphere, the moisture in the air, some unseen current…they knew something big was coming. She swore she could predict the weather just by watching the lightning bugs. The more there were, the worse the storm.”
    “Sounds like a pretty resourceful woman,” I remarked.
    “She was. She knew a bit about everything. I never knew my dad, so she was all I had. And I believed every word she said.”
    His use of past tense did not go unnoticed by me. I squeezed his hand a little tighter and stepped into his side. “I’m sorry.”
    I could see Blaine shaking his head in the darkness. “Don’t be. She died a long time ago. I believe I got her best years. Any more than that would have been selfish of me.”
    Strangled, silent moments passed between us as I digested Blaine’s words. I imagined a little boy with expressive brown eyes and messy russet hair, crying for his mommy. Reaching out for the one person who he loved more than anything in the world. His lifeline. Alone, frightened and utterly helpless. He had lost his everything.
    I didn’t even realize how deeply his words had touched me until I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek. I don’t know why Blaine shared that with me, but I was thankful. It reminded me that pain was necessary. Pain was life’s curveball. Without it, we would never appreciate what it felt like to be loved.
    “Come on, we’ve got some lightning bugs to catch,” he said, looking down at me with a mournful smile. I never wanted to kiss him more than in that moment.
    After Blaine taught me how to capture the bugs in the Mason jar, we spent the better part of an hour running through the field to see who could catch the most with only the truck’s headlights to brighten our efforts. Despite jumping at every creak or rustle of the trees, I did pretty well for a first-timer. Blaine was a madman. I spent several minutes just watching him go crazy, nabbing the mystical little pests with a childlike fervor.
    When we were both exhausted and sticky from the humidity, Blaine spread a quilt in the bed of his truck where we lay on our backs side by side. He turned on the truck’s radio to a popular station, the sounds of OneRepublic, and our laughter the only noise to be heard for miles.
    “Ok, before we tally up the results, would you like to make a little wager?” he asked holding up his jar of flickering insects.
    “Oh please! You know you won. Betting against you would be stupid!”
    I felt him shrug beside me. “You never know. Come on; humor me.”
    I sighed. “Fine. If I win…” I scrunched my forehead in concentration until a stroke of genius sent me into hysterics. “You have to perform at the next Open Mic Night!” Blaine’s horrified expression only fueled my laughter, causing tears to roll down the sides of my face.
    “Ok, ok, so you want to play it like that, huh?” he said loudly, trying to drown out my giggles. “If I win, you have to spend the night with me again.”
    His words quickly quieted my guffaws, and I rolled over onto my side to assess his expression. “You’re serious.”
    “Absolutely. For some strange reason, I have a sudden appreciation for